Chapter 5 The Blood Of His Victims
The blizzard scraped against his skin. It dug a scar so deep that could not be cured by a mere bandage.The Constant fear or paranoia followed behind him.
For this man was not kekkan nor the hero, the only identity that remained was that which they named him.
THE FALSE PROPHET
He advanced towards his destination, a palace of sorrow, the palace that weeped. Disregarding the bodies left in his wake, those who still begged for mercy, screamed for hope for their saviour to return, but all that was left was a False Prophet more focused on his own survival then leading others to salvation,
He did not want to think, He did not want to grieve, and he did not want to feel pity or guilt.
He needed to move forward.
The overwhelming cold began to take a toll, His entire body shivered, his pale skin became partially purple. The Never ending winter was cruel and punishing.
The weeping of an angel echoed through the land, the being who had slaughtered every living resident, the very sound made the hairs on his neck stand up. The path ahead was straight and safe, if he continued ahead he would reach his destination but was he ready. And most importantly, would his body last.
And something about it didn't sit right with him. He felt a sensation as if we were being watched, and most importantly studied. He then made the decision to cut to the side into the woods, A cabin resided there he could use it to rest until the blizzard cleared. He made his way down the path to shelter. There were signs pointing to it with the words "shelter ahead" written on it. He was too out of it to notice but the sign had been painted over.
Any longer in the weather and he would drop dead. He thrusted through the door. Falling heavily on the floor, and then he shut the door.
However a shadow in the shape of a rabbit's head peaked from behind the trees. He could not see a thing but it stalked over him. He was in its perimeter. He wasn't alone
The Cabin was eerie; it looked as if nobody had been here in years. This was good news for him, he could stay here without worry of the owners returning anytime soon. Icicles dropped from the ceiling even though the shelter had gotten a bit of a cold snap. A bloodstained baseball bat lay beside the fireplace. That was just what he needed a fire place,
He noticed a pack of matches on the mantel. With his cold ever growing he instantly jolted over, He desperately pulled out a match. Now he needed the fuel. Luckily he notices 3 wooden planks on the table, rusted and also covered in blood. How strange. He threw the planks onto the ground, Then he picked up the bat and began smashing the planks into pieces, He then threw the small planks into the fireplace before igniting the match.
He tosses the match into the fire and a brief flame starts to burn. He walks up close to the fire and drops the bat on top of the planks and they all begin to burn, a fire has been successfully started.
Before sitting down he decided to explore the cabin more. It had 3 floors, the first floor was your average cabin, it had a living room, a kitchen. One toilet, and a door out to the shed. He explored this floor further, The living room was pretty normal; it had a newly lit fire, a coach and a table. A video player was on the table, it looked like you could insert a tape in there.Pictures were on the wall so he got closer to inspect them. But there was only one. Of a happy family, their dad a short haired man with a fuzzy beard, the daughter a lively girl with violet hair, and their son whose face had been scratched out. Much like the bat and planks blood had been splatted across it.
What could have happened here. But that was a problem left in the past.
The kitchen had been closed off and tape covered the entire place. Staying consistent with the rest it was covered in blood. The images of the decaying body he left in his wake out of cowardice flashed through his head. The Guilt he carried was immense
Im gonna be sick
He didn't even want to venture upstairs, but after covering his mouth and gaining composure he walked up the stairs. Every room was barricaded apart from one. He entered the room only to find it completely normal unscathed by any blood or signs of harmful activity. There was a glistening guiding light that pointed to a wooden chair. On that chair lay a tape.
Is this out of some trashy game? It felt as if it was set up for him.
He snatched the tape off the chair, he remembered that the tape could be played on the player downstairs, he then made his way down. The tape had a sticker plastered on the top of it titled.
MURDER HOUSE
Grasping the tape firmly he inserted it into the player.
The screen flickered fuzzing up and blurring, it was real old school, until an image finally appeared. It was a girl old black and white vintage movie that looked like it was recorded on a crappy 90s camera, it gave it more of a found footage horror feel.
The words of a middle aged man could be heard. "Is this thing on?" He raised the camera high and his face could be seen for a brief second. It was the dad from the picture from earlier, he drew it away from his face to reveal the same family in the photo. But to his surprise the boy's face was blurred out.
The boy was resting on the couch and smoking a cigarette from a record player. The old song don't Fear the reaper was playing, an absolute classic. It was strange that the boy's face had been blurred out but the smoke from the cigarette could still be made out floating above him. His legs were up on the coach in a relaxed way carefree, not a bother on him. For a brief second the needle starts tearing and the record stops and then plays again, this only lasted a moment till the song continued playing.
Aside from the boy his sister had been sleeping next to the fire on the floor, a blanket had been placed over her.
The father spoke in a tone of authority.
The Father [Boy go wake your sister it's her birthday, did you forget you good for nothing scum. Il get the cake since you forgot]
The boy [yeah yeah]
The father vanished and faded out of the view of the camera, before suddenly appearing back with cake in hand almost like a jumpscare.
The boy tapped his sister on the shoulder and she opened her eyes slowly.
Simultaneously the boy and his father shouted.
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY"
The girl still sleepy rubbed her eyes, her father brought the cake over to her face.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU
HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR ????????????
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU
The video flickered for a minute and froze. The second it came back it showed the father standing over the corpse of the girl. Knife in hand shoulders slouched blood dripped on the floor like a flood of rain.
The video then returned back to how it was.
There were exactly 13 candles on the cake. The girl went to blow it out, when she did this the father shot his hand over her mouth in an aggressive way grasping her mouth with 2 hands.
The Father [now now, didn't we learn you need to say your wishes first]
The father takes his hand away from the girls face and lets out a gentle warm smile.
At first her expression was packed with terror but now joy was painted across her face.
She ponders for a moment before speaking.
The Girl [I wish for a pony. A real big cute one yah thats what i want. Oh and also a new rabbit doll. I love those. Oh I almost forgot. I wish for that pathetic wretch of a brother I have to have his eyes flowing out of his skull, as he suffocates on his own blood]
The father responds
The Father [im sure we can arrange those]
They then proceed like nothing happened, they all laugh about it.
The False Profit felt a disturbing throbbing in the back of his throat. As if mucus itself was breaking out for air. All of this was a lot.
But despite that he did not advert his eyes from the screen.
The video rewinded, forwarded paused and the tv shaked.
None of it could be made out clearly so The False Profit thumped on the side of the tv.
Damn it, I must know the story. Thump it, break it whatever it takes.
Not even The False Profit himself knew why he was so captivated by all of this. All of the events felt surreal but true.
A clear picture eventually painted itself on the TV but not a pleasant one.
There he stood the father towering over a mangalled corpse, one whose bones were twisted, cracked and out of place. Her face was barely recognisable but no mistake it was his daughter.
His smile was filled with malice and rage gripping an intestine covered axe. Guts dangalling from the side gouged eyes dripping from it. Yet in his expression also lay a deep sadness.
He dragged the axe across the wood floor scraping and leading the trail of guts in his wake. Gritting his teeth until they cracked,
All that could be heard was the whimpering of a boy on the other side of the door. Covering his mouth to avoid detection but his fear was louder than his silence.
The father slammed his hand on the door handle he tried to turn but it wouldn't budge. He turned again but it was no use. After repeated attempts he tore the knob off the door and shoved it down his throat.
The knob could be seen as a lump as it traveled down his throat.
Without speaking a single word his intentions were clear.
KILL THE BOY
Despite all that, the boy on the other side didn't make a single movement. His back was faced the door in a half ass attempt to block His vengeful father from entering.
An overwhelming gust of wind blew through the cabin leaving glass shattered and spread around the floor like a minefield.
The father turned towards the glass and his smile grew increasingly more vile,
He placed the axe down carefully next to the door, he raised both of his arms up in a surrendering pose. He walked backwards to the entrance of the cabin.
It was then when he heard the door fly open. The boy had made his move with his newfound weapon; he snatched it and held it firm with two hands. He held it quite close to his chest in a defensive position.
He surveyed the room from left to right looking for his father but nobody was there, only the cold wind that pressed against his cheek. He carefully stepped over to where the glass minefield was with the axe still in his hand.
There was a folding stairs attic above him in which the stairs came down and could be put back up.
He stood between the glass and then he heard a loud noise.
The attic door had opened and his rage filled father skydived down with his palm open and full of power.
He felt his entire palm engulf his face he grasped for breath but it was all extinguished. His face ran purple and he couldn't feel anything.
His face then smashed and collided with the shards of glass. They scraped off his face one by one as he was dragged through the entire minefield. It cut so deep it began to rust and turn green.
He placed the palm of his hands down through the glass he flinched and shook but powered through to turn himself over to his back.
As soon as he rolled over he could feel a painful throbbing in his back. All of the shards stuck out of his back like a hedgehog. He shot his leg up with great aggression and precision and hit his father in the nose.
His father went flying back and let out a roar. As he faced the same shattering his son before him felt.
The son's bones began to quiver so much that the pain had become numb to him.
He jolted himself up and looked around planning his next move.
Would he finish off his father and slice his head off with the axe. Or would he run,
His head kept telling him
SLICE THAT FUCKER DOWN
SLICE THAT CUNT
SLICE THAT PRICK
SLICE
SLICE
CHOP
CHOP
KILL
MURDER
AFTER ALL THIS IS THE MURDER HOUSE
His head began to throb he placed his hand on the side of his head to try and get rid of the thoughts. His head was a mixture of murderous intent and great sympathy.
I CANT
THAT SICK FUCK NEEDS TO DIE
NO BUT ITS MY FAULT
HE IS MY FATHER I CANT.
HE IS A MONSTER
But I love him.
He made his decision but we would not find out what it was.
The TV screen went black and The False Profit crashed his fist into the wall and the fire began to dim. He kept smashing against the tv attempting to make it work but nothing happened.
In the end he lost patience and threw the tv onto the floor. It fell sideways yet the screen sustained no damage.
I needed to know. I need to know what happened to him. I need to put together the jigsaw puzzle.
So many thoughts echoed through The False Profits head but one remained prevalent
Was that monster still here
This changed The False Profits' entire perspective of the place.
A cozy cabin to shelter him from his sins, no that wasn't what this place was. This place was retribution, this was his judgement. He let those people die as he cowered in fear while watching this place. It was all God's judgement. He was punishing him for the sins he committed for being weak slothfull pitiful causing the deaths of so many. The false profit, the fake hero. The king of deceit, he did not even know his name. Was he the Hero or a name like that didn't suit him or perhaps it was the false profit something fitting his sin. No he had no name he was nothing and a nobody.
??? [i dont know who I am, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry kekkan. I'm sorry those who believed in me, I let you down, I let you all down. Everyone died because of me because of my foolishness, and now judgement day has come i will pay for what i did . My sin is my weakness, your retribution will be attained]
He fell down on his knees and planted his face in the ground and prayed for mercy.
??? [I know god i know i am pitiful, disgusting and disgraceful, i know i deserve whatever smites me down any shackles that bind me fit right on. But i pray cause yes it is true that im weak im so weak that i cant even accept my fate. I know I deserve it but I don't want to be punished. I want to move forward, but how can I when I'm so disappointed? I am your greatest failure]
Tears began to overflow in his eyes so much that he couldn't even see through the fog.
??? [I deserve death yet i cant face it, i pray that you have mercy on me you forgive me, i may not be able to forgive myself but i ask for your grace]
Panting at an extreme rate he gathers himself together and cries out.
??? [ I DONT WANT TO DIE]
The tears soak up and become one with the wooden floor. He smashed his fist into the ground. He feels so much pain in the process but continues slamming.
He throws himself up in a fit of sorrow. He spins around disjointed, he can't control his own movements and slams his back into the wall.
THUMP
He lets out a scream of anguish and self loathing
??? [ ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH]
.
He screams so much that he begins to exhaust his vocal cords, he spins around and slams his face into the wall.
??? [IM SO DISGUSTING IM ROTTEN, IM NO GOOD}
He spins his head around and slams the very corner of his head into the wall which sends him flying back first onto the ground.
He gazes up into the sky glancing at the roof of the cabin. Blood sprays down on him bit by bit,
??? [ It's their blood every single one of them. Every single drop is them]
The memory of them keeps replaying his mind like a plague as each drop lands on his face he remembers one of them.
Ones who stood by his side, those who jumped in the way to save him, those who put utmost faith in him. They believed in him and yet he let them die,
??? [This is the blood of my victims]
He raised his palm up in the air as the last drop of blood covered his hand.
??? [ the blood of the one i killed with my own hands]
More tears streamed down his face and he attempted to wipe them only mixing tears with blood.
??? [I am so sorry kekkan, you were right, I'm nothing but a false profit. No im worse, im the man who killed you]
He places his head on the floor looking sidewards averting his eyes from the crimson ceiling.
An image was presented on the tv. It was the door of this very cabin, shackled in chains and blood.
Could this mean that the son is here forever sealed away. Or perhaps it is the father
Something shot into ??? head concealing his sorrow.
Does that mean he can be saved?
He jolts himself back to his knees.
??? [ I am going to save you, not for you but for myself]
He placed his fist on the floor pushing himself up. With a new sense of direction implanted in his head. He was going to save whoever resided in that room. But how would he face someone who has gone through so much pain?
In an instant the fire had faded. Now he resided in a pitch black room, the dark made ??? thoughts scream louder than any injury.
He heard slamming banging creaking and devilish laughter. Grabbing of wooden objects, the sound of wind covering the cabin. The grasping of something metal something dangerous
Before he could think much more excruciating pain shot through his chest,
??? [ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH]
He looked down at his chest the only thing he could see in the dark was his crimson coloured wound.
He had been shot
His vision began to blur but he knew what this was.
??? [its my hour of judgement]
It was so fast and sudden that made it unbelievably unfair, but the world wasn't fair. It was fitting for a man bearing such sin he practiced.
But he didn't want to die so he wouldn't let it end here or was it too late for that. He hoped that his prayers had reached god and mercy would be granted upon thee.
He turned around his entire body he followed with his eyes and ears, for any little movement he heard a footstep to the right so he swung his fist on a whim.
He couldn't see anything but he felt his fist colliding what seemed to be a human.
The bright blood illuminated a small area in which he could see but nothing to help him, he was still completely in the dark.
??? [ STAY BACK I WILL FIGHT TO LIVE ANOTHER DAY.]
Another voice responded
? [ Today is your judgement day, do not resist there is no changing the punishment that awaits you]
??? feels his consciousness slowly slipping away but he fights to stay awake.
The figure from the shadow speaks again
[I am The Rabbit, a soldier of divine justice and you have been judged]
These were the last words ??? heard before he faded from consciousness