The Morning After
The morning following those savage murders, a neighbor first notices the broken second-story window; then is shocked when viewing the ghastly sight of the torn up heart lying in the middle of the yard. The police are immediately called.
When they enter, passing through the foyer, and then entering the living room, their attention is first drawn to the headless corpse lying on the couch. Next; a large pool of a deeply-darkened, cherry-red colored, coagulated blood - now having an almost gel-like viscosity. Finally, having tumbled across the floor, ending up under a small table in the corner displaying an array of bric-a-brac; grandmother’s severed head – with a look of horrific-shock frozen on its now ghostly-pale face.
A quick – yet cautious – search of the remaining downstairs is conducted; then up to the second floor. Their attention drawn on the open door, they enter the mother’s bedroom.
Her mutilated body laid upon the bed just as it had been from the night before, after he finished reaching in and ripping out her heart. As shocking as this sight was, they were more appalled at their next discovery; which was lying in a bloody mess in the corner of the room.
After smashing her head in on the bureau corner, the boy proceeded to tear his infant sister apart; using nothing more than his bare hands. The limbs were viciously pulled from their sockets; sharp, jagged of brachial and femur bones from the breaks protruded out from the ends of arm and leg flesh, muscle, ligament and tendons. Her head, apparently twisted around until the neck tore apart, was brutally yanked out; with half her spine still connected, dangling from the back of the exposed skull. The torso was “scooped out like a pumpkin being prepped for a jack-o-lantern”; which during the process, squeezing her tiny organs tightly in his homicidal hands, until a blood-pulp oozed out from his fingers. After that, he had reached down into the emptied cavity with both arms, and extended them out in opposing directions; cracking the rib cage in half, and continuing tearing the torso in two. All this was then heaped into a mangled pile of “meat”, lying in a smaller pool of deeply-darkened, cherry-red colored, gel-like coagulated blood.
Crouching down beside it, the “boy” is gazing down upon his “creation” – he’s stark naked, with the exception of a latex, skull Halloween mask - which he had found a month ago down in the basement - adorned over his head. When he becomes aware of the police officers’ presence, he slowly stands and turns to them. And in a low, solemn voice he speaks for the first time in his life – slowly and with purpose...
“I am the Reaper. I am death. The children must die.”