Hank didn't say anything. He knew it would make it too hard if he did. He couldn’t even say he was sorry. Bringing the weapon up again, David’s eyes followed it in a horrifying way.
“PLEASE, YOU CAN STAY! YOU CAN LIVE HERE!”
But all that escaped David’s mouth was “please”. After that the weapon struck his head, just like it was intended to with the first blow. The blade pierced the skull and David yelled in pain, still very much alive.
Hank knew from the war that people don’t die easily. He had seen men with guts half out and skulls half open. Humans could endure a lot before dying. That was the sick truth.
He swung again. The backswing grazed Jeremy’s arm leaving a thin line of blood. David managed to roll over but once again wasn’t very lucky. The weapon cut through his left ankle, sending his foot rolling down the hill with blood spraying out like a firecracker.
David was crawling away with both his arms. His body and clothes were stained with mud and dried blood. A hand lashed out and grabbed Jeremy’s wrist, who looked terrified. David collapsed, eyes facing the sky.
With one last blow the weapon hit his jugular, letting out a spurt of blood. His neck was torn to shreds with his head barely attached to his body by a flab of skin. David’s chest had stopped moving but his eyes remained open.
They had carried David’s body to the incinerator, behind the house. The body created a black smoke, which smelled of sewer and rodents. Hank guessed he could check “Smell the scent of rotting flesh” off the things-he-never-wanted-to-do list.
Both were extremely silent. Now they had a problem. Where to bury the murder weapon.
“Alright,” Hank said, defeated, not wanting to hold it a second longer. “Let’s go to the tree.”
So they walked up, both with shovels, Hank holding the weapon that had killed David. For the next hour they dug, until both were satisfied with the depth.
15-Jul-2009 21:44:05
- Last edited on
15-Jul-2009 21:52:27
by
Dark Enmity