Almost there
At this moment she didn't feel like the predator rather the prey. A zebra as it stupidly ate grass unbeknownst to it that a hyena was now ready to pounce on its prey. She stood up her fight-or-flight instincts kicking it.
What is this???
She tried reaching for something to defend herself with a million thoughts racing through her mind still not realizing what had been done.
It was too late.
Seven breathed slowly, a smile slowly gracing his face. A faint one at the moment but a real one nonetheless as it felt his freedom nearing. Back and forth he went as the swing creaked.
The climax of the show was nearing.
The head lady in her panic saw a faint flash of light before spotting
A knife.
A look of horror crossed her face.
A scream attempting to leave her mouth.
A pain was felt in her abdomen
The knife
The child
The room had suddenly become much smaller hindering the amount of oxygen her lungs were taking in.
He was almost there.
He could hear the faint sound of his mother screaming in the kitchen as she slashed him with the knife.
The knife he vividly remembered had been held up by his father against her once. He knew. He knew although he was only a small child of three years old.
He wasn't Seven at this moment.
No
No
No
He was his father. The man that abandoned his mother. 'How dare he', he could hear his mother think.
How dare he perish of stupid cancer leaving me with a terrible child to take care of.
So she lashed out at Seven's father.
Punching
Kicking
Yelling
What his father deserved.
Seven stood in front of a broken mirror watching blood drip from his nose into his tiny sneakers. He didn't know what to do at the moment but he knew he had to somehow
Stop the bleeding.
Stop the bleeding.
Stop the bleeding.
Stop the bleeding.
But how could he stop the bleeding when it was all around him?
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
He was now 5 years old standing above his mother's sleeping body. She was currently located on the couch in the living room with the TV playing faintly in the background, some old-fashioned show broadcasting during the evening hours. She remained knocked out most likely due to something she had taken or something she had been drinking. At that moment it didn't necessarily matter to Seven.
"Mommy?"
"Why are you so dirty?"
"There's blood all over you, how do I make it stop?"
"Mommy? Mommy? MoOomMyyYyyY!!!???"
"Don't worry, I'll help you okay Mommy." The young five-year-old Seven said while brushing his mother's hair out her pale face.
It was unbeknownst to him that the 26-year-old woman known as his mother had already stopped breathing long ago.
He was almost there.
Her blood began pooling out as he removed the knife from her abdomen. She dropped to the floor in complete shock, her consciousness fading in and out. Standing above her was none other than what she feared the most.
It wasn't a kid standing above her this time.
Oh no it wasn't
It was a
"Monster!" He remembered his mother calling him as he peeled apart the wing of a beautiful butterfly at a family gathering.
"Why did he leave me with you, ¿Por qué debes vivir en mi casa?"
Back and forth.
With some kind of superhuman strength, Seven brought his mother to the backroom in a daze hoping to get her clean somehow.
He grabbed a cloth and some water and began scrubbing. He started at her face, the dirtiest part. He then continued to reach her neck.
So much blood he saw so much blood.
It wasn't coming off, it wouldn't leave.
WHY WOULDN'T IT LEAVE???
Back and forth
.
.
.
.
The old grandfather clock on the other side of the heady lady's office began to ring after he sliced at her neck knowing she wouldn't be able to yell and wake up the kids.
She was dead but to him, she couldn't be. Not yet because she wasn't clean yet.
Seven could see children dancing. Children now long gone from this world begging him to join them. But he wasn't finished playing on the swing yet.
Seven reached for the same kitchen knife his mother once used against him believing it would help him accomplish his objective.
He was upset that she couldn't see him.
"It's okay Mommy, I'll fix your eyes for you."
He dug into her eye sockets with the help of her knife and began pulling her eyeballs from their nerves.
Seven didn't once think what he was doing was wrong. He only wanted what was best for his mother.
.
.
.
.
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