Tick-Tack-Toe

Tick-Tack-Toe

By

Richard L. Purnell

Psychopaths, their minds are Satan’s playground. A man most of the time. A man who’s life at one point was destroyed. The media eats up psychopaths. Hollywood can’t stop making movies about them. Its sick I always felt. To find entertainment in watching a couple of teens slashed to death is sick. If only people have seen what I have seen, or lived what I lived. My life has been filled with nothing but hell. It all started when I was 8 years old. I lived in Malum City.
It was a lot like New York City mixed with Chicago. I was born to the Romance Family. Boy, was life grand at that time. Nothing but good feelings filled the air. You could just feeling nothing but joy. My father, Hank, was a district attorney, and he was the best. Every case he played was a winner. My mother, Vicki, was the Mayor. She did everything she promised. I loved life at that point. I remember waking up every morning, and smelling eggs and bacon. Sweetness was the way of life.
As I grew I started to get interested in art. Some of my favorite artists were Van Gough, Da Vinci, and Picasso. Mother and Father would hang my masterpieces all over the house. Our house was magnificent. It was this great big Victorian house. With blue shutters and a big red door. The craftsmanship of the house was so amazing. The house had a sort of Adams Family look too it. We had the greenest and softest grass in the world. All of this would be covered in blood on December eleventh.
That was the day of my best friend Timmy’s 8th birthday party. The party was so much fun. There was cake, clowns, balloons, games, and even a pool. I remember I got Timmy a Transformer toy. Ah, what fun and freedom children have. I decided to walk home because Timmy only lived next door. I skipped home like a fool. Holding my doggy bag full of treats. As I stared at my house I saw the front door open. I was confused to the point were I had to scratch my head.
I walked slowly into the dark abyss. I almost slipped on something on the floor. I lifted my foot and wiped the liquid off. It was all red and sticky. I looked up and saw red tick-tack-toe games all over the floors and walls. None of them had O’s just three X’s. Then I saw Mother and Father. Not a movement made by either mom or pop. “Mom, dad are you ok?” I asked while holding them tightly. I began to cry the tears meant to be cried. I screamed with all my breath. As I held my parents hands I heard foot steps slowly walking towards me. I looked up and saw a man. A man with nothing but evil in is face. He was wearing black leather motorcycle boots, a long expensive-looking black suit jacket. He also wore a blood covered black and white mime shirt. His black pin striped dress pants were blood soaked too. His red hair was all messy and grungy. It was obvious this man didn’t care what he looked like. His skin was so pale its as if he was a ghost.
He was holding a hatchet stained with blood. “Hello sonny, I guess I missed you in this little massacre. Ah well you’re here now ha ha ha ha ha ha.” the man said with terror in his voice. I bolted for the front door. My heart was working double time. Screaming and crying I flew down the street. I ran to my neighbors house and banged on their door. “What is going on. Edward what’s wrong dearie?” asked the lady next door.
The lady who owned the house was so worried about me. I told the old bitty everything that happened. A few hours later policed invaded the crime scene. I feared the killer was still out there. I was so shocked I could not talk for a week. The News ate up the story. The wealthiest people in Malum City gone. Those words cover tabloids, newspapers, and magazines for miles. I was known as the survivor. I was later placed into an Orphanage in the middle of nowhere.
No one took me in. People were afraid that the killer may come after me, and whom ever I’m living with at the time. I didn’t really care to live with anyone else. I never played with any of the other kids. I would stay in my room and read Edgar Allan Poe stories and paint. This one kid, Ronny, bullied me around. He made fun of both my parents dying. what I didn’t get was that he made fun of me not having parents. I guess he was just a born ass-hole. My entire world was warped so all my paintings depicted death, anger, and the infamous all X‘s tick-tack-toe game. The Orphanage felt like an insane asylum, but I was the only insane one.
All I thought about was revenge. I wanted the man from that night dead. I wanted him to die a tragic, painful, torturous death. This was my own personal vendetta. I was going mad everyday I spent inside that building. The isolation was so unbearable. About 10 years went by, and I still had nightmares of that night. Tonight was going to be my last night. I would escape this hell-hole once and for all. It was 6:30 , lights out time.
I went to my closet door and packed all my stuff. While I was sneaking out, I ran into Ronny. “Hey freak, what are you doing out of bed? Not trying to sneak out on my watch are you? If you don’t go back to bed I will personally rearrange your face.” said Ronny while guarding the rooms. My face was more pale then the white walls. My eyes looked like I had not slept in days. I stared at Ronny for a while. What he didn’t know was that I was holding a pair of scissors in my hand.
As quick as a flash, I slit Ronny’s Throat. I didn’t think at all I just slit his throat, and it felt good. I felt such a rush from killing Ronny I took my index and middle finger, and drew a tick-tack-toe game on the floor. The game was written in blood. I had no idea why I drew that it was just a feeling. I stole the keys to the motorcycle, and then stole the motorcycle. I knew where I wanted to go. I wanted to go to my old house. It took me awhile, but I finally made it to Malum City. The motorcycle ran out of gas. I stopped in a alley 5 miles away from my house.
I looked for a way to get out of there. As I looked around I saw something so unbelievable. I saw the man from that night. He was wearing the same outfit as he did ten years ago. I was so blown away that he was still alive. “Hey, I remember you, but your much older now. To bad I didn’t get the chance to see your blood on the floor. Well as I said before, no time like the present.” said the man raising his hatchet to me. This man was extremely old.
I was surprised he had all his strength still. He was about to swing when I stabbed him with my scissors. His blood squirted all over my Pjs I was wearing. He was gasping for air like a fish out of water. I did nothing but smile. My grin became wider and wider. I have been waiting for this moment for years. I began to stab his face, and his chest until I knew he was dead. As I stabbed him I screamed my head off. I began to laugh like a buffoon.
My entire body was covered with his precious thick blood. It felt so good to feel his bones scratched by my blade. I never truly knew the rush from killing someone. I could not get enough of it. It was like riding an endless roller coaster. Oh my god, this feeling was so great I need to feel it again. I took the mans body, and dumped in this cruddy dumpster. I took this water bottle from my bag, and cleaned my self of the mans thick life liquid. I had finally found the exit to this alley way. I grabbed my bags and started to walk.
Each step taken was getting me closer to my home. The big Victorian with blue shutters and a huge red door. On my walk all I wanted to do was feel that rush again. I wanted to feel another persons life end by my hand. This, I knew, would become an addiction of great consequences. While wanting this rush, I saw an old beggar standing outside this local thrift store. “Care to offer me a dollar so I can get some grub, sir?” asked the old piece of trash. I walked him to the alley next to the store. “I will give you a dollar sir, But I need you to do something for me first.” I said to the old man while I reached for my scissors.
The beggar nodded his head yes, he was so desperate. I took my pair of sheers, and cut his neck wide open. His blooded poured into my hand. I watched his blood flow towards the ground. I smiled again, and I also began to laugh. I felt so good knowing I could end a mans life. I smeared his blood all over the beggars face. I finally realized the entertainment of horror movies. I dumped the beggar’s body in a tin trash can, and tied the bag inside the can. I was almost out of water, and I didn’t wash my hands so I just wore my leather gloves.
I continued my walk, but I was tired from all the killing, and it was a hard walk. About an Hour passed by, but I made it to my house. The thing was it wasn’t my house anymore. The House was falling apart. You can see the wood behind the beautiful paint job. The shutters were brown and blue, and the door was brown and red. The soft grass was now dead grass. I looked in the window and saw an old lady and child. They were having the time of their life. They were having the good time I was supposed to have.
This wasn’t fair. The bastard I killed took that from me. If anyone was going to have a good time it was going to be me. I need to let these people know how pissed I was. I slowly walked towards the door. I held my scissors in my hand tightly. I heard the theme to Boy Meets World playing inside the house. With all my strength, I lifted my leg and kicked the door right off the wall. I heard the loudest scream from both the child and lady. I grabbed the boy with a tight grip, and flung him across the room.
His head bashed on the wall so hard I felt the vibrations. I went up to the lady, and stabbed her in the ear and pulled my scissors out. “Finally, after years of rotting I am home.” I said after I dropped my scissors. I pushed the lady off the couch, and took my throan for myself. I looked down, and I noticed something familiar. I looked at the ladies face once again. I could not believe it. I was looking at someone I loved. I was looking at someone who was dead before I killed them.
It was my mother. “Oh my god, what have I done. I killed my own mother, but how? How can she still be alive?” I asked myself. My mind was racing faster then Jeff Gordon. I fell to my knees, and cried a river. I held my mother repeating over and over the same words. “What have I done?” I repeated while rocking back and forth.
My new found love has turned on me. I was drunk with power, and it took me this long to realize that. Its like eating a food you love, and then that food ends up killing you because it was bad for you. While I was crying I felt this sharp pain in my spine. I had no idea what it was. It felt so horrible, and I could not take it. I reached to my back, and felt my unknown pain. When I brought my hand back I saw my own blood. I was shocked to see my blood in my hand. I looked up and I saw the child I thought was dead.
He was holding the scissors I used to slaughter the man, the beggar, Ronny, and my Mom. Was this pain what my victims felt? I was such a jerk to make them feel this unbearable pain. That little boy, he had a look of satisfaction on his face. He started to grin just like I did. I knew he liked it. I could see in his face he liked stabbing me. The addiction has new host. I could not believe it at all. Well, all I have to say is. At least I die next to my mother. I die knowing the addiction is not with me. I pray that little boy doesn’t live my life.