It was one of those things you just knew, the moment you were about to die. I knew it was right now, with my hands shackled and my brother dead beside me. Tear stricken face, dirty, and stuck down in god-forsaken hole in the middle of nowhere. I would die as another statistic.
I could imagine what my mother might have though, if she weren't dead already. She was privileged with a much more mundane death. Car accident in '09. Her obituary was in the paper the next morning. Me? I'm sure my missing person's poster will have to suffice.
Maybe I was just unlucky. Well, I suppose I had to be. The shackles were cuffed tightly, and no amount of struggling would get them off. I knew that. But the instinctual part of my brain kept trying anyway. Even as he stepped up with the axe in hand, looking at me one last time before I was gone from this world. Even as the muffled screams escaped the cloth gag covering my mouth.766Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡy0agXT3B1K
But there was one thing, just one thing I absolutely knew for certain.
I would die by the hands of a serial killer. And the worst part? 766Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡawHmcED8js
He was my own father.
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