My hands trembled as I gazed across the dark alley at the woman coming out of the bar. Why did I have to do this? Why me? It was my father’s perverse fetish for violence and his sadistic demeanor that drove him to kill innocent women but I shouldn’t have to help him… Everytime he came to me asking for my help I could never say no… My fears of what he might do to me always seemed to rule over reason in my mind.
My dreams are haunted by the macabre from the deeds I’ve helped accomplish. I remember the face of every woman my father has killed, of every woman my father has made me lure, and trick into coming home with me, only to then meet their brutish demise. I remember them all because they all resemble my mother. The only woman I will ever have emotions for again.
As the blonde haired woman approached, my brain set off into auto pilot. I’ve done this countless other times, charm, flirt, seduce. If that doesn’t work, wait until she walks off and drug her. I’ve been forced to master the act and perfect the steps I need to take in order to bring him his next victim. This girl, she’s different, she’s polite, she’s inspiring, she has a future, she wants a life… It’s no matter, if I don’t bring her back, it’ll be me who pays the price. Oh god… I don’t want to die.
We climb into my vehicle, and I talk idly as we drive to my house. I feel awful, my stomach turns in knots everytime I have to do this, my body shakes and I sweat like a fountain, why do these girls even want to go back with me? Is life so meaningless that they don’t care?
As we pull into the drive way she comments how lovely my house is, I smile, tears welling in my eyes at the fate I know she’ll soon suffer. She touches my hand, asking if everything is okay, I’m too much of a coward to tell her ehat i know will happen, so I just smile and say I’m fine. As we step up onto the porch, she turns to me and says something …
Why couldn’t she have said this earlier… It’s too late, I’ve already opened the door, my father has already leapt out like a starving beast, knife in hand. He tackles her to the ground and off the steps, the gravel crunching beneath their weight. I stand, watching in horror as my deranged father plunges the knife into this poor woman’s stomach, and then her chest, again and again, the blade ripping and tearing at her flesh, my father wailing like an animal in heat. Her screams drowned out as the blood froths into her thoat. Gurgling cries and sobs leak from the woman’s bloody remains. My father stands, slick with gore, a pleasant look in his eyes greed my own terrified gaze, he smiles, the blood on his face making him look more feral than ever.
I fall to my knees as he walks past me into the house, the tears fall without sound, and I empty the contents of my stomach onto the wooden porch. This poor woman’s last words echoing throughout my head.
“Oh, and by the way… I’m pregnant.”