Unknown POV:
"Who the hell are you? And where the bloody hell am I?", he demanded.
How cute. He was trying to be brave.
I watched him stand up clumsily and grope around, my amusement growing by the second.
I flicked my finger. The next second, he was on the ground again. He yelped as two rusty chains wrapped themselves around his plump wrists and tightened.
He stared at me in terror as I bent to his level and ran a finger down the side of his face, "Do you know where you are?"
He fearfully shook his head. I smiled, "Greg, Greg, did you never listen to your darling mummy, when she warned you about the haunted house in the scary forest?"
I didn't give him time to answer as I flicked my finger again, making the chains tighten even more. He screamed in pain as my chains tried to tear his arms from their sockets.
"Did that hurt Greggykins? Quite a pity. You are a football captain, are you not? You're supposed to be strong." I could see the sleeves of his shirt start to tear, exposing the straining skin of his shoulder joint.
His screams reminded me of the monster I was, back in the good old days, when terrified screams of humans followed me like a shadow.
His face was starting to redden as the fabric of his shirt tore completely and the skin around his joints started to rupture.
Droplets of blood spattered the ground around him as he almost passed out from the pain.
Filled with immense pleasure, I whispered in his ear: "Do you who I am?"
He answered no with shaky whimper.
I chuckled and whispered my name in his ear. He looked even more frightened at the mention of my name.
Good, so apparently, little Greggykins had listened to his mummy's warnings...
The ruptures on his skin widened and blood gushed out in fountains.
Pearly white bone was visible through the tearing flesh of his arms.
He howled in agony as his skin tore apart. His arms were hanging onto his shoulders only by thin strips of skin.
Now, time for me to step in.
I flicked my fingers and the chains stopped pulling.
He stopped screaming and looked at me with several emotions in his face and eyes.
Fear, terror, pain, apprehension and...
Suspicion.
Just what I was looking for. He has no idea what I'm going to do to his already mutilated arms.
I took out a pair of sharp scissors out of my pocket and smiled at him.
"You see Greg.." I positioned my scissors around the thin strip of skin of his left arm, "...you are good for starters."
Snip!
He much too dead to even yell as I cut off his other arm as well.
Kiara's POV:
"Kiara! Dinner's ready honey!"
Ah, dinner! Just what I was waiting for.
I bounded into the kitchen,"What's for dinner? I'm starving!"
Mom smiled, "Pasta"
Pasta?! She'd actually made pasta?
I looked at her bewildered, "What's the occasion?"
She laughed, putting two large plates and a steaming, heavenly smelling pot on the dining table, "Oh, just to celebrate the fact that you made a decent, civilized friend."
I dug in, "So you approve of Curly, huh?"
She frowned, "Stop calling her that, Kiara. It must be hurtful to her."
Thats my mom to you. She can't help feeling for even the chicken she cooks.
I ignored her and turned on our dining room telly.
Immediately, the news channel came on and showed a reporter standing in front of the Oakwood Forest, speaking gravely into the microphone:
".... Today afternoon, at around 1 o'clock, a truly gruesome sight was discovered at the edge of the Oakwood Forest. 17 year old Gregory Sommers was found dead with his arms severed. His missing limbs were arranged in a cross over his chest and his face was contorted into an expression of utmost terror. Almost as though he had been scared to death. The police are currently with his grief stricken parents, interrogating them..."
My mom grabbed the telly remote control and switched it off looking horrified. I was speechless.
Damn, who would've thought that in a sleepy little town like Oakwood, a real murder could take place?
I knew Greg Sommers by sight. He was the school football captain.
Though how he acquired that position with all that flab, was beyond me.
He was quite a jerk, but he wasn't bad enough for anyone to want him dead.
It was a relief no shots of his body were shown, or both mom and I would've been puking into our plates by now.
I was dismayed to find tears in my mom's eyes. She half whispered, "What kind of demon would do something like that to a such a young boy?"
Demon indeed....
Sierra Carlyle (Kiara's mom), 44 years old
Author's note
How do you like the story so far? Do tell me if you have any suggestions for me. I know the chapters are a bit short, but that's how I write, and I hope you you don't get mad!😀