Chapter 18 :My future

                                    

                                          


                          
Zack POV
                          
 I come to see my past in front of me...... I am a child again in that damned orphanage. The woman and the man who ran it were abusive and neglectful. Their was usually only 2 or three kids in with me at any given time and would either die or get adopted by sketchy individuals. There where no happy endings for kids here. It was right after the fire that caused me to be constant;y covered in bandages. I was burned from my head to my stomach and for a long time it was painful. It took awhile for my hair to grow back and to heal considering all the physical abuse and labor I was put through. 
                          
One night the man and the woman were in the living room talking about how another one of the children had died.
                          
"I'm telling you I am not burying another kid, they smell when they die and I get dirty." She said to the man, he was barely listening watching a movie on the T.V. that I couldn't quite see or hear where i was eavesdropping in the hallway.
                          
"Just have the little bandaged freak do it then and let me get back to my movie. That little psychopath doesn't do enough around here anyways. They were wrong. I did dishes, laundry floors and cleaned all the bedrooms. Especially for the other kids in the orphanage when they would get sick and eventually die from neglect. I would try to steal medicine or food for them, so i wouldn't be left alone again, but they would always die. They were weak. Looking back i was a foolish child. I should have looked out for myself only; would have received a lot less beating that way...
                          
It wasn't too soon after that they called me to come bury their newest victim. Sometimes I wondered how many children they had buried while receiving government paychecks. God they made me sick. "Come on finish up already." The woman staring at me. I wanted to tell her to fuck off but that wouldn't do me any good. So i just silently kept doing what I should. Digging graves is really hard when its pouring. She has an umbrella and shoes on. I didn't get a chance to put on shoes before she dragged me out of here.
                          
She smiles at me before walking back inside to where it is dry and warm. My bandages are soaking wet. I'm digging. digging.digging. IT's so hard to dig in the rain, the mud keeps seeping back into the hole I'm digging......
                          
Finally it is deep enough and I throw the bag in. I always felt as a child I should say something about them, the ones that die. I used to feel like someone owed them acknowledgement....eventually I would just  go inside and think, 'better them, then me'. 
                          
By the time I wondered back inside the house dripping wet and dirty the man and woman had gone to bed. I start picking up before I head to bed myself and become transfixed on a T.V. that's still on.....
                          
They are playing a classic slasher film, god I love that movie, and for more then one reason..... I see in the film a man and woman begging for their lives as the slasher corners them to a tree in the woods and slices them open. I smile at the movie on the T.V. as it gives me an idea, at that point I don't know if i made that choice out of fear for the future or out of excitement for the future I was about to be guaranteed. I grabbed the knife in the kitchen. It was sharp, if their was one thing the woman was neurotic about it was the kitchen knife sharpness, I don't know whether it was for the food, for us, or the man, but today it would be her downfall. I crawled into the bedroom until i was next to the bed. I feel like their should have been doubt or fear, but their was none at this point. I was ready to take back my life and these two were keeping me from it.
                          
It was over with in mere seconds; I slid onto the bed and on top of the woman first, I stabbed her, ripping through her flesh with the knife, god knows how many times before moving onto the man quickly before he could wake up or feel the bed being soaked in blood. I basically jumped on him, clumsy. This was my first kill after all, we can't all be perfect the first time. He started to stir. SHIT don't wake up don't wake up. I stabbed him in the chest then took the blade and placed it across his neck, his eyes were barely open. He saw me and began to lift his hand up to rip me off and probably kill me. I glide the knife across his neck and almost immediately his hand that threatened my very existence was gone. I got off the bed and looked at the scene I had just created.......I smile.....I am free..... just then as my young self an image of (Sara) pops into my mind..... when I look up and see I am an adult now standing over this gruesome seen I smile. I killed them,they were terrible people and I was happy, this is where my love for killing started and how I gained a future. MY FUTURE.....
                          
So this is what she meant feel free.....