Eric, a man of thirty-two years, spent the majority of his existence spreading lies, betraying everyone he met, and disposing of innocent humans for no reason other than to allow himself a measure of sick amusement. No desire to avenge victims, no craving to bring justice to criminals, no appetite to set things right drove this malevolent cutthroat...just pure, unadulterated animosity.

Eric's hostility towards mankind was not entirely his own fault...what drove this beast into an attitude of neverending malignity was a childhood filled with abuse, abandonment, and quite a few things one of young age should not be wise to. Born into a family of wealthy egomaniacs, he was constantly spoiled and encouraged to take advantage of everyone, by everyone...save for one person: Marie, his mother.

Marie attempted to put young Eric on a path of honesty and benevolence, but his father, James, would constantly corrupt the advice she would deliver unto her son. Eric always saw his father as strict, but wise. In any case, daddy knew all. His mother, however, he viewed as someone he could come to for safety. Daddy would only tell him to suck it up and be a man, but Mommy would make everything better.

James didn’t like this. He thought Marie was turning Eric into a weakling, a half-man that would let everyone step on him throughout life. So, some time following Eric's sixth birthday, James decided to do something about it.



Eric was called into his kitchen at 6:07pm, Wednesday, November 7th. The child opened the door, only to see his mother tied to a chair with barbed wire, duct tape over her mouth and eyes, bleeding incessantly. She wore that beautiful, lavished, azure dress with the jade flowers Eric loved. Accordingly, he was horrified to see it ripped and torn wherever the barbs came into contact with it. Tears streamed from under the tape covering her eyes, and her long brunette hair seemed a mess, patches of it missing here and there.

“…Mommy?”

James was a mess as well. His hair was astray, his tie looped around the side of his neck, and a broken bottle of alcohol rested in his visible hand.

“Heeeeeey…look who came to see Mommy and Daddy! It’s the little cream puff! Oh, but don’t worry, junior. Today, you’ll see what it takes to be a true man.”

Marie, muffled by the tape, attempted, but failed miserably, to get a comprehensible message to her son. Try as she might, her words either came out in sobs or loud mumbles. This only distressed her more, yet she was determined to get her son away from this madman. She screamed at the top of lungs, ordering Eric to run away, far away. Unfortunately, Eric, to this day, could not understand a word she said.

James' other hand came into sight. It contained a black pistol, one he had cleaned every single day, and loaded full before he tied his wife to that chair. He pointed it at Marie’s head, laughing maniacally and taking pleasure in the euphonious hushed weeps Marie uttered.

Eric only stood there, stricken with shock and astonishment at what his father was doing. Subconsciously, he cried. He knew what that pistol could do, and what his father intended to do with it. He knew what was going to happen to Mommy. She would go away, to that wonderful place she had always described to Eric. Heaven, a city located on clouds, containing anything and everything positive you could imagine. It even had those little chocolate-covered cherries Eric loved so much. He remembered Marie constantly sneaking the treats to him without his father’s knowledge…James didn’t approve of Eric eating anything sweet.

James' laughing ceased, and he abruptly lowered the aim of the gun to Marie’s leg, and shot her. She screamed, but the duct tape still covering her mouth diminished her cry’s volume. Blood gushed out onto the tiled floor, quickly rushing to meet Eric’s feet.

Eric screamed and turned to run out of the room, but was quickly grabbed by James and shoved to the floor. While Eric gawked at the puddle of blood he landed in, James locked the doors to the kitchen.

Eric’s father soon turned to Marie once more, angered by his son’s attempted escape, and promptly shot her again, this time, in the arm.

She screamed once more, in unison with Eric.

James, for some reason, did not derive any joy from their screams of agony this time. Bored with the event, he decided to end it by shooting Marie one last time. Ripping the tape from her lips, James shoved the pistol into Marie’s mouth, but not before she managed to utter one word.

“Run!”

Both Marie’s and Eric’s lives ended that day, Marie’s more literally. With an ear-splitting blast, Marie’s head hung limply, and she struggled no more.

James strode casually to the counter near the end of the kitchen, and turned the video camera off.



Eric never spoke of the event. Neither did James. It was soon forgotten, resting silently in the back of both of the men’s minds. At the age of eight, Eric was convinced that what he saw was only a dream, and that his mom had actually died of suicide.

Of course, James was the one to convince him of this. As soon as he turned sober, the lunatic realized what he had done, and was quick to destroy any evidence of the slaughtering.

They went on living their lives. James was, before long, confident that nobody knew of the event, not even Eric. However, as fate took note of his arrogance, it decided to punish James for what he had done.

While Eric went through a box of video cassettes shortly after his sixteenth birthday, he discovered a tape labeled ‘Marie; November 7th’ in thick, dark red ink. His dad was never quite excited, rather opposite as a matter of fact, if somebody had mentioned anything that had to do with his former wife, but Eric missed her. He missed her hugs, that kind look in her eyes, her voice that sung him to sleep almost every night. He was often curious as to why she had decided to take her own life, but never let the thought linger too long, lest Daddy find out and cuss him out for dwelling on the past.

He waited for his dad to leave to work one Monday afternoon, then put the cassette into the video camera, hooked the camera to the TV, and watched the video.

Needless to say, Eric was soon in tears as he watched his mother fade from life, heard their screams of helplessness, remembered the texture of Marie’s blood, the way it felt to be drenched in the crimson liquid. Then he heard his father’s laughter, the sickening cackles of his amusement. Eric’s depression soon turned to anger and revulsion, and he began to form plans of revenge.

Thus, on that very same day, November 7th, yet 10 years later, James' demise was carried out.



It was 4:27pm when James returned home from work, exhausted and angered by the day’s demands, numerous meetings, and idiots he was forced to deal with. He shoved the front door open, threw his briefcase on the couch and trudged over to the kitchen. Grabbing a slice of pizza from the previous night, he sat down at the dining room table and silently ate his food. Eric was to get home from school at 5:00, 33 minutes from then. He was supposed to, anyway.

For James, everything abruptly went black, and he awoke in a warehouse. He was tied to a metal chair that was bolted to the floor, and his mouth was covered with a piece of duct tape. He moved to get up, but was stabbed by the barbed wire he was tied to the chair with. The back of his head throbbed with pain, due to the football trophy Eric had knocked him over the head with 3 hours ago. Eric had then proceeded to drive his unconscious father to an old warehouse near the docks, tied him to a chair with the barbed wire, placed a piece of duct tape over his mouth, and waited for James to regain consciousness.

James, of course, did not know of that part. He looked around, trying to discern where he was, what time it was, and why he was there.

As Eric silently walked over to James with a look of disappointment and anger on his face, James knew.

“Marie, my mother, died eight years ago."

Eric began to pace around the chair, hands tucked neatly behind his back.

"Do you know why?”

James nodded his head, unashamed of what he had done.

“She was preparing dinner for her husband and six-year old son. It was 6:07pm, Wednesday, November 7th.”

James chuckled softly at his son’s ability to recall such details. Yet another sign of mind over will, emotion over practicality. He had obviously failed at composing his son to be resilient and tough, thus he knew Eric would not be able to kill him. So, he would just kill Eric once he was out of this situation. In the meantime, why not distort Eric’s sanity?

“She was beginning to pre-heat the oven, when, suddenly, she was assaulted. Said assaulter smothered her mouth with a small, gray washcloth, shoved her into a chair, and commanded that she not move, lest she be shot by the black pistol that was pressed against her cheek.”

Under the tape, James smiled, remembering the tears from Marie’s eyes collide with the sleekness of the pistol he admired, and still had.

“Said assaulter then pulled a long string of barbed wire from a kitchen drawer, and tied her to the chair with it. He placed a piece of duct tape over her mouth, and approved of his devilish work. Taking another swig from the bottle of alcohol he had been carrying and drinking throughout the entire day, he placed another piece of duct tape over her eyes.”

James could barely contain his laughter. Was his son trying to unnerve him by explaining the story James knew so well?

Eric continued to pace around the chair, stormless in appearance.

“She tried to struggle out of the chair, but the barbed wire pierced her skin and she soon ceased. The man snickered at this, then looked with disgust at her hair. He knew it was perfect, too perfect, one of the many flawless attractions she possessed.

"He ripped parts of it out, tossing the strands to the floor. Content with the results, he broke the alcohol bottle over his own head, and held the jagged edges tight against her neck, causing blood to pour slowly from the cuts.”

Rolling his eyes, James became impatient with the pace the story carried on with. He looked out a high window, noticing it was getting dark.

“He then pulled the pistol back into view, and aimed at her head. The gun was ready to kill, but the man had an idea. He called his son into the room. Unknowingly, the young boy walked into the room, and became terrified at the sight of his mother.

"Tell me, do you remember what she was wearing that day?”

James shook his head.

“A dress her son had picked out with his grandmother. Azure, with jade flowers scattered throughout it. Her son loved that dress. It made Mommy look so beautiful when she wore it. Her husband, on the other hand, possessed nary any regard for it. The spikes on the wire tore it relentlessly, rendering it worthless and flawed.”

Unaffected, James sat there, showing no emotion whatsoever. This intimidated Eric a bit, seeing that his father held no remorse for the terrible deed he committed. Nevertheless, he continued on, determined to make his father pay for what he stole from Eric.

“The little boy faintly cried out for his mother as the assaulter struck out at the boy verbally, telling him that he’d become a man that day. Marie, panicking at the very notion of her son being hurt, screamed out to the boy. He couldn’t understand a word she said, though, and still cannot.”

James still just sat there, eyes half-closed from sheer boredom. Eric did not appreciate this, and brought the same black pistol that killed Marie into sight.

“You remember this scene, right? Mom tied to the chair with barbed wire, duct tape over her mouth and eyes, you standing there with the gun pointed to her head? Only this time, I want you to see your blood. I want you to see yourself being shot, being killed.”

James raised an eyebrow and shook his head, laughing.

“The man pulled out the pistol and aimed at Marie’s head.”

Eric aimed the pistol at James’ head.

“But he moved the gun to a lower target…her leg…”

Eric lowered the gun’s target to James’ leg.

“He shot her!”

Eric pulled the trigger, and a bullet escaped into James’ leg. James screamed in agony and shock, no longer thinking that his son would never have the guts to actually shoot him.

Eric only scowled at his father once more and cocked the gun for another shot.

“She screamed in pain and her blood poured out onto the floor! The little boy tried to run away, but alas, the man shoved the boy to the floor! As he landed in a puddle of his mother’s blood, the man locked all the doors! Annoyed by his son’s effort to run away, he shot Marie in the arm!”

Eric shoved his father to the ground, aimed the gun at James’ left arm, and pulled the trigger again. James, accordingly, cried and shrieked at the excruciating pain he experienced. Eric waited for James to quiet down a little, kneeled down somewhere above his eye level, and glared at him.

“The assaulter then decided to uh...get it over with.”

Eric cocked the pistol.

“That assaulter, that man, was you.”

James looked up at his son with resentment.

“You pulled the duct tape off of Marie.”

Eric ripped the duct tape from James’ face.

“She managed to get one word out, of which was an attempt to save her son. She told that little boy to run. She told me to run. To get away from you before you corrupted me. Everything you’ve taught me over the years, I haven’t ever listened to. I ran from you. From your ideas, from your authority, from your orders, from your regulations. I ran off that path you tried to carve for me.”

James scowled at his son, but was at a loss for words.

“So, I suppose it is appropriate if I allowed you one last word. What is it?”

James spat at his son.

“Coward!”

Eric stood there, enraged by his father’s arrogance.

“So be it!”

Eric shoved the gun into James’ mouth.

“You shoved this pistol into her mouth!”

Eric paused to stare down his father, to look at this vile creature with one last feeling of loathing.

“And you shot...and killed her.”

A tear rolled down Eric's eye as he pulled the trigger.