It was not long until the two arrived at the older part of Luxembourg City named Old Town (“Not really a surprising name, there.”) and since the highlight of the city were not accessible at that time, the two decided to follow the river Alzette. The fog had begun to clear, and the sun penetrated through the thick mist and slowly vaporised whatever stood in its’ way to warm the ground.
The small, worn-out buildings led them to a forest clearing and a single tarmac walkway, autumn leaves falling with both sides yellowing. If not had been the leafy scenery and chilly wind, probably no one would have guessed it was that that season of the year. There were people occasionally passing by with a leash on a Labrador or Yorkshire, they all stared at the duo like how high school students would stare at their foreign counterparts. The sun beamed into their eyes whenever it had the chance to, as if it had been worried that nobody would take notice of its’ existence or have taken it for granted.
There was a laughter of children as they deepened their journey before they arrived to see a well-established play area for the innocent and young. Housewives and stay-at-home fathers kept a watchful look at their kids while at the same time encouraging the latter to engage more with the mischievous ones. Cay had a heartfelt moment as he saw a girl with her palms and knees on the dirt and mushy leaves, the father came to her aid by lifting her from the ground and place her head onto his broad shoulder. It was an instinctual action for a parent to react in a certain way after seeing its’ offspring to take such a small dive into harmless soil. Nothing surprising, however, the father’s action prompted Cay’s memory of the picture that hung in his grandmother’s house. It was a long wooden frame containing a polarised pictured of his father holding onto a giddily laughing Cay. The mental image gave warmth to him, yet he felt saddened somehow, not wanting to dwell into the reason.
“Would you ever have kids?”, Judas must have noticed his absentness of the walk.
“I guess I would, but not anytime soon.”, Cay responded habitually.
He had been used to Judas’s sharp sense of his surrounding and had been subconsciously prepared for his sudden but harmless questions.
“Why not now or soon?”
“Because.”, Cay gave a thoughtful pause before continuing.
“Because I’m not ready yet.”
“Not ready for?”
“Not ready to give a childhood to another person”, he said it so casually that he later was surprised at his own response.
Judas just nodded. Cay was not sure whether it was just an aimless conversation, or his companion had taken it to heart, he was not sure after what happened that early morning. He was not on guard against Judas, he only felt a confusion welling inside of him waiting for an unknown force to explain the uneasiness to him.
Judas pulled his hand into his and held it like a shy girl, but his steadily firm grip gave a slight comfort to the shock of abruptness. Cay just looked the other way as he kept his held hand loose but not resistant to his companion’s contact. His limby arm seemed very well-proportioned and strong all the while he stole looks at it. It was a while after they left the children and continued towards the end and along the water.
Cay kept his cautiousness on a gentle level while willingly let Judas hold onto it, the grittiness of his palm seemed to make his hand difficult to escape, not that he wanted to. All the while they walked on, the fall of the leaves seemed never ending.
*
Judas left the park as he picked up his pace. Fully awoken then, he realised what he did as he sped past roads after roads. Disappearing from the moonlight that left him exposed and vulnerable.
He got back home within an hour and felt for the knife in one of his pockets, momentarily forgot where he hid it before pulling it out and threw it across the hallway. The bloodstain gave of an eerie glow from the yellow light hanging above it, he stared at it with horror and the sudden realisation of what had happened.
The boy stood defensively while trying to look as large as Judas, he was clearly afraid and the two had the eyes of prey and predator. The hungry tiger and the frightened Giselle holding its’ ground, as any moment blood would spurt. Judas did not feel much threat from the pocket knife but was sober enough to be aware of its’ lethality as he inched closer to the cornered boy. He was bothered by his resilience to his anger but felt the satisfaction to drive someone to be so desperate.
Gambled against his thoughts, he lunged forward, hand attempting to grab the hilt of the knife but was stopped by the blade swinging in front of him. He was not going to give up as he continued to tread towards the now panicking Jack. In an instant, he sped into the opposite direction and butted the boy’s groin. Hearing the gasp and seeing the terror in his eyes, he struggled to hold onto the blade as the boy attempted to regain his possession but failing to do so. He yanked the pocket knife from his knife before Jack lost his footing and tripped over an exposed root.
“You stay away from me, I’m warning you!”, Jack suddenly let out a desperate yelp, almost pleading.
As he kept a firm grip around the metallic hilt, Judas suddenly found himself relishing the power he had over the boy. He was nervous as the boy, but whatever happened next would be his decision. He walked toward before Jack could make any more noise as he bent down and arched his occupied arm to the back, before driving the tip of the knife into the boy’s stomach.
He could hear Jack’s sudden yelp turned into a soundless cry, the wind been taken out of him. He kept the stabbing angrily consistent as the boy attempted to shield himself but failed when each thrust slipped through his defenceless block.
“Stop. Please.”, the boy pleaded in a pathetic voice as Judas looked pass him, driving the knife into the bloodied hoodie.
Leaving the knife half inserted in the boy’s groin, he looked around, half-expecting someone to see the deed. No one had been around to hear the struggle, let alone noticing a cry for help behind an overshadowing tree in the middle of the night. A stone was visibly lying on the ground next to him, he picked it up and felt wicked and powerful.
As the boy recovered from the shock and choking blood flowing from his mouth, he stare at Judas in horror. The latter raised the rock as wide as his hand and as heavy as it seemed and smashed it into the boy’s face. When he raised the rock for another strike, the boy looked delirious, either from the blood lost or from the concussion of the rock’s momentum. But there was no time for panicking, he was enjoying the life clamped between his thighs begging not to be killed. He struck the rock again and heard bones cracking from the immense force and surface of the stone. The limbs of the boy raised momentarily in a comical way that would be funny on television, he continued pitting the boy’s face that has by then unrecognisable.
A bit of torn flesh hung onto the exposed bone of the cheek as blood spurted out from where his nose was. Seconds later after the onslaught, he drove the stone into the boy’s face again, hitting what was solid behind his former verdict. The boy went limp and the life finally left its’ inhabitable shell, through the exposed flesh and into the chilly night.
ns 15.158.61.12da2
