Massacre

LIAM

I clasp my hand against my mouth before a gasp rips through me. I can see the little boy's eyes filled with fear. His limbs are tied to the wooden platform firmly. His mouth is hanging open in such a manner as if he is trying to scream but there is nothing to come out.

Suddenly Saint Christopher lowers his blade, piercing his chest. The child, at last, starts to scream his lungs out. The blood-curdling agonized scream intensifies when Christopher replaces the knife with his own hand and rips out the boy's still-beating heart. Crimson blood is smearing his hand and the heart.

Christopher does all that without erasing the smile pasted on his face, his eyes are crescent.

My stomach twists, and my dinner hits the back of my throat. I regret even eating something.

This is too much...