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Authors: Sapphire Knight
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over his body, straddling him, swinging the hammer again and again. With each strike, his blood splatters all over my fingers, my hands and arms, my face. Each new blow brings a new spray of the thick crimson liquid, and I can’t seem to stop myself. Over and over, I slam the strong metal into his broken skull. I can feel the hate climbing down my arms, feeding into the frenzy of finishing him until he’s completely gone and can no longer touch me.
I finally stop, my arms feeling beyond heavy and I don’t think I could take another swing if I’d wanted to. Dropping the hammer to my side, I hear it make contact with the concrete floor. The air I’d been holding deep inside my lungs finally escapes in a rush. My chest feels tight and achy and the heaviness soon covered my entire body.
Glancing down, I cherish my stained hands and watch the blood droplets running down my forearms. Instead of being frightened, I rub my hands up and down my arms, coating my skin in his blood as if to empower me. The feeling that washes over me is liberating as I wear the blood of my enemy.
My father no longer moves, but I know I will never be free of him. He terrorizes me in my sleep, and I know he will continue to haunt me in the darkness, even after he’s no longer here. His face is missing; just a bloody slop in place of his once evil expression. His body remains intact, so I must do something to stop him. He can’t ever hurt me again. I have to figure out a way to make it all go away; he has to go away completely.
I gaze around the basement, taking in each of his tools and contraptions of horror until my eyes stop on his miter saw. Perfect.
His big, muscular body is extremely heavy as I attempt to drag him over to the saw that rests on the bottom shelf of his bench table. My arm muscles weaken and hurt so badly, but I keep on.
I shift and pull his body, shuffling in small steps as I watch his blood smear along the basement floor. Nothing is going to stop this from happening. After countless methods of torture and agony, it’s his turn, and I don’t care if he can feel it or not. This is for me , not him .
I drop his ankle, scooting the old saw off the dusty shelf and as near to him as the black cord will allow me to. The extension cord gets me barely close enough to reach his knee. That’s okay. I just move his large body closer.
That’s how it all began…how I became the Butcher.
I started with his ankle, taking one body part at a time. I pushed that saw blade down…the shrill sound…the grinding and smoking as it sliced through his flesh. I can still feel the way the warm blood felt as it sprayed over me.
Dom knows, but not really. He found me that night in the basement. He had never come to my house before, but his father had told him I should stay with them from now. His dad was tired of seeing me hurt, and this was his way of offering me freedom from my father. His father had no idea that I’d created my own stairway to light…to my own escape.
I worked tirelessly cleaning and scrubbing up the gruesome mess I’d left in the basement, just like my father had made me clean up all of the bloody messes before that. As I sprayed disinfectant and dabbed at the last bits of blood, I wiped them away, and I laughed.
I fucking laughed because I had overcome such torture, that I was awash in his own blood this time, and I was the one still alive.
I moved in with Dom until I was old enough to find the Oath Keepers MC. We never spoke of that night; in fact, he pretended it never even happened in the first place. I, on the other hand, replayed that shit over in my mind every goddamn day of my life, smiling inside at the fact that fucker was dead and gone.
“Son? You okay, boy?” Prez’s gruff voice rouses me.
“I’m not a boy, old man.”
“And I ain’t no fuckin’ old man, so I guess we’re even.” He chuckles.
Grinning slightly, I nod.
Prez was the first person to really draw me out of my
I finally stop, my arms feeling beyond heavy and I don’t think I could take another swing if I’d wanted to. Dropping the hammer to my side, I hear it make contact with the concrete floor. The air I’d been holding deep inside my lungs finally escapes in a rush. My chest feels tight and achy and the heaviness soon covered my entire body.
Glancing down, I cherish my stained hands and watch the blood droplets running down my forearms. Instead of being frightened, I rub my hands up and down my arms, coating my skin in his blood as if to empower me. The feeling that washes over me is liberating as I wear the blood of my enemy.
My father no longer moves, but I know I will never be free of him. He terrorizes me in my sleep, and I know he will continue to haunt me in the darkness, even after he’s no longer here. His face is missing; just a bloody slop in place of his once evil expression. His body remains intact, so I must do something to stop him. He can’t ever hurt me again. I have to figure out a way to make it all go away; he has to go away completely.
I gaze around the basement, taking in each of his tools and contraptions of horror until my eyes stop on his miter saw. Perfect.
His big, muscular body is extremely heavy as I attempt to drag him over to the saw that rests on the bottom shelf of his bench table. My arm muscles weaken and hurt so badly, but I keep on.
I shift and pull his body, shuffling in small steps as I watch his blood smear along the basement floor. Nothing is going to stop this from happening. After countless methods of torture and agony, it’s his turn, and I don’t care if he can feel it or not. This is for me , not him .
I drop his ankle, scooting the old saw off the dusty shelf and as near to him as the black cord will allow me to. The extension cord gets me barely close enough to reach his knee. That’s okay. I just move his large body closer.
That’s how it all began…how I became the Butcher.
I started with his ankle, taking one body part at a time. I pushed that saw blade down…the shrill sound…the grinding and smoking as it sliced through his flesh. I can still feel the way the warm blood felt as it sprayed over me.
Dom knows, but not really. He found me that night in the basement. He had never come to my house before, but his father had told him I should stay with them from now. His dad was tired of seeing me hurt, and this was his way of offering me freedom from my father. His father had no idea that I’d created my own stairway to light…to my own escape.
I worked tirelessly cleaning and scrubbing up the gruesome mess I’d left in the basement, just like my father had made me clean up all of the bloody messes before that. As I sprayed disinfectant and dabbed at the last bits of blood, I wiped them away, and I laughed.
I fucking laughed because I had overcome such torture, that I was awash in his own blood this time, and I was the one still alive.
I moved in with Dom until I was old enough to find the Oath Keepers MC. We never spoke of that night; in fact, he pretended it never even happened in the first place. I, on the other hand, replayed that shit over in my mind every goddamn day of my life, smiling inside at the fact that fucker was dead and gone.
“Son? You okay, boy?” Prez’s gruff voice rouses me.
“I’m not a boy, old man.”
“And I ain’t no fuckin’ old man, so I guess we’re even.” He chuckles.
Grinning slightly, I nod.
Prez was the first person to really draw me out of my
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