Slicing into the innocent flesh the sharp blade glinted as Jamie screamed in agonising pain. Replying to the shriek was a sickening, deep, menacing chuckle escaping from the dark shadow. It slashed again. Oozing out of the severed flesh, the blood smothered the attic floor. Slashing against the window the rocketing rain drowned out the cries for help. Jamie felt so alone in the black attic as everything surrounding him was hiding in the mysterious shadows. Extremely dark shadows. Appearing from the gleaming moon was the only light, which was just about bright enough to make the spillage of deep blood visible. The room smelt musky and was chilling. The air tasted devastatingly dry as Jamie gasped for his last breaths.
Suddenly it all ended. No more laughter, no more shrieking, just one swift, sharp stab. The blade gently slid through the thick flesh. It felt exhilarating. Jamie’s corpse slid softly onto the hard, wooden floor, into a pool of blood. Finally it was all over, but for what reason?
Well, It all began 3 months ago on a blistering hot summer day when Jamie had just returned from school. Woefully, he swept across the living room into his bright kitchen. The sun reflected off the bright orange walls. Just to his left was the ‘medical draw,’ as his mom used to call it. He swiftly opened it and pulled out a perky pink plaster, which was going to be put over his deep cut his chubby finger. After doing this Jamie lazily climbed up the newly laid laminate flooring into his dull bedroom. Something was different.
Gleaming through the normally closed curtains, the sunrays were directed towards a dirty rustled piece of paper. Curiously Jamie slowly crept towards it and softly opened it. The message was bold.
THE END IS NIGH. Sending a shiver through Jamie’s fragile spine, the blooded writing gave him mixed emotions. How did he feel? Scared? Was a joke? He wasn’t sure but after a moment of pondering he realised it must be a family member. No change there, he muttered, my stepmother has never liked me and now she wants to intimidate me, well it isn’t going to work. Jamie seemed very assured of himself.
“Get down here now Jamie Hackett,” the devil herself screamed.
Cautiously Jamie crept down the shiny stairs to meet a towering Mrs Jones.
“The school have just rang, and you have been fighting again! Wait until your father hears about this you will be in big trouble, now get to your room and don’t come back down until called!”
Daring not to disobey he set off back to his bedroom, but now he believed he’d conclusive evidence it was her. I haven’t been in a fight at school; she must be making it up, conniving bitch.
Agonising weeks passed and similar incidents happened. Jamie consistently got brutally accused of disruptive and violent behaviour at school by his stepmother. Angrily his father also began to become involved, she had him tightly wrapped around her skinny little fingers. Jamie was extremely confused and could not see a way out of the upsetting situation. Weeping in his dark bedroom, Jamie decided he’d had enough of the abuse and was going to confront her, once and for all.
Pacing up and down his bedroom he finally had a rush of confidence spirt through his veins and decided to confront her. Barging down the shiny stairs he noticed his father had left to work, perfect timing. Next, he charged confidently in the kitchen to find Miss Jones standing towering over him.
“Why are you downstairs, you were told to stay in your room!” She yelled furiously at the youngster
“Shut up, I’ve had enough of the way you speak to me, you’re not even my mother!” Jamie was astonished he had just shouted that and his heart was ferociously beating with fright but also anger.
Miss Jones raised her forearm to the young, helpless boy and struck him hard across the face. Bulging, the red mark on the side of Jamie’s face looked extremely painful.
“Now get to your room before I do something I regret.” Miss Jones forcefully warned. Veins were now bulging on the forehead of the evil women and Jamie decided not to push his luck andretreated. Dashing upstairs a thought came to his head, I’m not going to be intimidated by her and thought he will annoy her in front of his father. Surely his loving father will protect him.
As night approached Mr Hackett returned from work stumbling through the old oak door. Simultaneously Jamie came downstairs slightly grazing past his stepmother, who dramatically fell to the floor. Mr Hackett glared at young Jamie and immediately.
“I told you!” she screamed menacingly as she nursed her phantom injury, “he’s always the same. You don’t believe me do you? You never believe me” Miss Jones wouldn’t quit wining.
A subtle smirk cheekily appeared across Jamie’s face. His father, reacting the only way he knew how, lunged his fist, which came crashing against Jamie’s smooth face. He’d had enough. They’d all had enough.
“Get to your room now boy” he shrieked.
In the morning, full of remorse, Mr Hackett tentatively opened his son’s bedroom door. He gasped. Jamie’s mutilated corpse slumped lifeless on the hard, wooden floor
How such a frenzied attack could have taken place was a mystery. It remained a mystery.
Washing up in the kitchen miss Jones smiled. The sleek knives glinted almost like jewels in the sunlight. She wiped them carefully, putting them to an unwilling rest and closed the rusty drawer.