There was a glass vial, stolen from him. The girl and I drank up its contents: we knew he would use it for Evil. Sounds silly, I know, cause it just tasted like water with the consistency of tears. We then found him at his place; his brother alerted him that we were there. He didn’t know us, we only became important when he discovered we had his vial. We thought we filled it with water, but there was some chocolately liquid of sort mixed in. Brown yet golden, or should I say golden streaks flitted through the mixture. A woman was there, no doubt a fling from the night before. Heels. He whispered that he was about to take care of her. He let her go though.
The vial had a cork, in it was a protruding blade. Small, sharp and lethal. He held it in our direction. Despite the charm, he threatened with his gestures. When the vial was in my hands, I tried to force the blade inwards, slamming it repeatedly against a wall. It worked, kind of. I had to stop before he found out. Nearly did, if not for the girl’s warning.
We followed him, there were four of us, two guys and two girls. One of them was you, though that provided me with no comfort at all. Fear gripped its withering claws around my pumping box, squeezing harder with every breath. We climbed into an elevator, the old sort with that metal gate. It was green-blue, with a simple four-line diamond pattern.
You told us to sit down and stay hidden, it was for our own good.
The first floor, he threw us a smile, so very charming.
We knew what he was going to do. To our left was a door, further along the corridor was a whole stretch of them. A typical, old HDB apartment, with metal gates and a wooden door. A baby had crawled over to the elevator, discovering us. Hand outstretched, caressing its head, its face, those soft cheeks and sparse hair. Giggles and gurgles.
Screams, slashing sounds, grunts and heaves. The baby starts to cry, but the cooing and shhhhh… calmed it down to a sniffling babe.
He returns, a knife in hand, that smile on his face.
Next floor. I try to strike up a conversation.
Yes, there are no floors in between, it’s all alternate. He smiles, so beautifully, so… mesmerising. Ah, he lays on the charm like magic.
We pass a floor, blood splattered in great strokes across the wall in front of us. We continue going past that level. Mission accomplished.
He calls you to come, just as you volunteer. No no no no no! is all I hear resounding in my head. Please, no come back don’t do this no…
The screaming is worse, there is more blood and pain and we all cover our ears with both hands clammed down on the sides of our head as the screaming just never ends, and we curl up into balls trying to make the pain go away and, even with nothing and silence, we are crying so hard, rocking ourselves to get rid of the fear and the pain and just blocking it out but our hands, they have gaps, and no matter how hard we try, we can not get the sound of death out of our minds.
You return with him. Blood. Death. That look in your eyes, one of shock and disbelief and you crumple, at our feet.