Damaged
Cami
It was inevitable, really. The reason I'd turn out the way I am. The truth is, I really can't stand being involved with a serial killer. It's not by choice, it really isn't. I'm afraid. He scares me and has all control over me.
It was the summer of my seventh year. I was wearing a yellow sundress because we were going to have a barbecue later on to celebrate my father's promotion (I don't like dresses). My mother's dress pretty well matched mine. I remember her expression clearly, because I wish to always remember her that way, and not with the staining of the blood on her skin and dress. My brother was only five at the time. He didn't really have a clue what was going on; then again, neither did I.
Daddy had just finished making the burgers and I was putting ketchup on the bun. We didn't hear him come in. He was young at the time, perhaps only 20. He was wearing all black. Black shoes; heavily polished and not made for running (he wouldn't need to run), black jeans; didn't match his shoes at all. Black button-down shirt; matched the jeans pretty well but again, not the shoes. What was he thinking? Nobody will ever know. Black, leather gloves; reusable for a serial killer, and easily attainable, and they could look like something else. Black ski mask. First he knocked Daddy unconscious with the butt of his gun. Then he took Mom upstairs; Michael and I frozen still with fear of what this unknown man might do to us. He came back down and took Daddy upstairs as well. He told us to follow. We did. When we came upstairs, we saw that he had Mom handcuffed to the bed. He had told us that he was a police officer. We never believed him, but we kept quiet. He tied Daddy up in the chair next to the bed and put Michael and I in the closet. We could still see clearly what he was doing.
He beat Mom until Dad came into consciousness. As soon as the man realized he was awake, he began to take off Mom's panties. He inevitably raped her and made Dad watch. Unbeknownst to him, Michael and I had seen it as well. When he was finished, it didn't take long, he made them beg for their lives. They never begged for our lives. They had completely forgotten us in their panic. Maybe they thought he had already killed us, or that if they lived, they could create new children; a perfect new family. Without us. Maybe that was his plan all along, to see if they would remember about us.
They continued to beg for their own lives. He seemed to tire of it, and shot them both square between the eyes. Their blood got everywhere. Once he had calmed down a bit, he let us out of the closet. He let us mourn our parents' passing. It was his eyes that got me to trust him. I really shouldn't have. He told me, "You either help me with this, or I will kill your brother. You hear me, Cami? Do as I say, or else." I didn't know how he knew my name. Or how he knew my weakness. Maybe he had been watching us for quite some time?
Family life wasn't as perfect as we all let on. Daddy had previously beaten Michael and I, while Mom just watched. Maybe this man, whom we later called Tony, knew this? I don't know if Tony is his real name, but Michael and I felt that he had saved us from this life. And brought us into a whole new one.
Over the years, Tony continued his cycle of stalking families. He would send me in to check out the families, and I would report to him. Usually there was domestic violence issues in the families he chose. He would do the same things: Knock the husbands unconscious, tie the wives up, make Michael and I gather the children in the closet, wait until the hubbies were conscious, rape the wives, and kill the parents. Sometimes the children as well. Occasionally, when the parents begged for their children's lives, instead of their own, he would spare the whole family. They never contacted authorities. They realized they had been taking their families for granted.
Sometimes Tony would force me to kill the families. He had never pointed a gun at my head, but he would threaten to end my brother's life. I couldn't have that. I know that the law says that my brother is no more important than anyone else, but to me, he is the world, and my only family. He means a lot more to me than anyone else.
Tony had never touched me the way he touched the wives. I was happy with that, but yet I couldn't figure out why. I thought that maybe there was something wrong with me. Perhaps there is, with me thinking that, I mean. Why wasn't I good enough for him?
It was an ordinary day for us: we found a family and did the usual. But Tony couldn't stop there. He looked at the little girl, maybe 8 years old, and brought her and her brother along with Michael and I. I knew what was happening. Tony was replacing me. I was sad and felt lonely at this revelation. Sad for myself, and sad for her. She didn't deserve this. I knew exactly what she was going through. I told him that he shouldn't do this. I'm good enough, but he wouldn't listen.
"Cami, you've been wonderful. I'm sad to let you and your brother go, but it's a new era for me." Yeah, yeah. Whatever that means. He pointed his gun at Michael. I told him that he didn't need to kill us. He glanced at the new little girl. She was scared. Her look was so unlike the one I'd always carried around him. He told me I was right. He then let Michael go. Just. Like. That.
She shouldn't have looked scared. That's his button. I seem like I'm blaming her. Maybe that's because I've gotten to know...and somewhat genuinely like...Tony.
She looked at him with her sad little eyes, seeming to plead with him. "Fine, Tanya, I'll take your pain away." She said: "But I'm not Tanya..." He seemed shocked. He had the wrong girl. Or maybe she was toying with him. Regardless, he was not pleased. He then proceeded to shoot her. Blood got everywhere. I was surprised. Utterly shocked...So was her brother.
I don't know where Michael is now. I've been alone with Tony for quite some time. Traveling across America, killing families so much like the ones Michael and I had grew up in. Well, I guess I shouldn't say we grew up in them...
Is Michael still alive, I wonder? I wish he could have stayed with us. Or that I could go with him. Tony doesn't have leverage over me anymore. Or maybe he does? Maybe he knows where Michael is. Maybe he had him killed already. I really don't know.
Maybe I love Tony? Am I that sick and twisted? Or is it psychology? Stockholm syndrome? Or maybe I'm the only one who can calm him; make him not kill absolutely everyone he comes in contact with. If I ever meet you, maybe you can help. Considering I've been willingly helping Tony for years, I deserve to go away for a long, long time.
I don't know what the future holds. All I know is, we're killing someone tonight.
It was the summer of my seventh year. I was wearing a yellow sundress because we were going to have a barbecue later on to celebrate my father's promotion (I don't like dresses). My mother's dress pretty well matched mine. I remember her expression clearly, because I wish to always remember her that way, and not with the staining of the blood on her skin and dress. My brother was only five at the time. He didn't really have a clue what was going on; then again, neither did I.
Daddy had just finished making the burgers and I was putting ketchup on the bun. We didn't hear him come in. He was young at the time, perhaps only 20. He was wearing all black. Black shoes; heavily polished and not made for running (he wouldn't need to run), black jeans; didn't match his shoes at all. Black button-down shirt; matched the jeans pretty well but again, not the shoes. What was he thinking? Nobody will ever know. Black, leather gloves; reusable for a serial killer, and easily attainable, and they could look like something else. Black ski mask. First he knocked Daddy unconscious with the butt of his gun. Then he took Mom upstairs; Michael and I frozen still with fear of what this unknown man might do to us. He came back down and took Daddy upstairs as well. He told us to follow. We did. When we came upstairs, we saw that he had Mom handcuffed to the bed. He had told us that he was a police officer. We never believed him, but we kept quiet. He tied Daddy up in the chair next to the bed and put Michael and I in the closet. We could still see clearly what he was doing.
He beat Mom until Dad came into consciousness. As soon as the man realized he was awake, he began to take off Mom's panties. He inevitably raped her and made Dad watch. Unbeknownst to him, Michael and I had seen it as well. When he was finished, it didn't take long, he made them beg for their lives. They never begged for our lives. They had completely forgotten us in their panic. Maybe they thought he had already killed us, or that if they lived, they could create new children; a perfect new family. Without us. Maybe that was his plan all along, to see if they would remember about us.
They continued to beg for their own lives. He seemed to tire of it, and shot them both square between the eyes. Their blood got everywhere. Once he had calmed down a bit, he let us out of the closet. He let us mourn our parents' passing. It was his eyes that got me to trust him. I really shouldn't have. He told me, "You either help me with this, or I will kill your brother. You hear me, Cami? Do as I say, or else." I didn't know how he knew my name. Or how he knew my weakness. Maybe he had been watching us for quite some time?
Family life wasn't as perfect as we all let on. Daddy had previously beaten Michael and I, while Mom just watched. Maybe this man, whom we later called Tony, knew this? I don't know if Tony is his real name, but Michael and I felt that he had saved us from this life. And brought us into a whole new one.
Over the years, Tony continued his cycle of stalking families. He would send me in to check out the families, and I would report to him. Usually there was domestic violence issues in the families he chose. He would do the same things: Knock the husbands unconscious, tie the wives up, make Michael and I gather the children in the closet, wait until the hubbies were conscious, rape the wives, and kill the parents. Sometimes the children as well. Occasionally, when the parents begged for their children's lives, instead of their own, he would spare the whole family. They never contacted authorities. They realized they had been taking their families for granted.
Sometimes Tony would force me to kill the families. He had never pointed a gun at my head, but he would threaten to end my brother's life. I couldn't have that. I know that the law says that my brother is no more important than anyone else, but to me, he is the world, and my only family. He means a lot more to me than anyone else.
Tony had never touched me the way he touched the wives. I was happy with that, but yet I couldn't figure out why. I thought that maybe there was something wrong with me. Perhaps there is, with me thinking that, I mean. Why wasn't I good enough for him?
It was an ordinary day for us: we found a family and did the usual. But Tony couldn't stop there. He looked at the little girl, maybe 8 years old, and brought her and her brother along with Michael and I. I knew what was happening. Tony was replacing me. I was sad and felt lonely at this revelation. Sad for myself, and sad for her. She didn't deserve this. I knew exactly what she was going through. I told him that he shouldn't do this. I'm good enough, but he wouldn't listen.
"Cami, you've been wonderful. I'm sad to let you and your brother go, but it's a new era for me." Yeah, yeah. Whatever that means. He pointed his gun at Michael. I told him that he didn't need to kill us. He glanced at the new little girl. She was scared. Her look was so unlike the one I'd always carried around him. He told me I was right. He then let Michael go. Just. Like. That.
She shouldn't have looked scared. That's his button. I seem like I'm blaming her. Maybe that's because I've gotten to know...and somewhat genuinely like...Tony.
She looked at him with her sad little eyes, seeming to plead with him. "Fine, Tanya, I'll take your pain away." She said: "But I'm not Tanya..." He seemed shocked. He had the wrong girl. Or maybe she was toying with him. Regardless, he was not pleased. He then proceeded to shoot her. Blood got everywhere. I was surprised. Utterly shocked...So was her brother.
I don't know where Michael is now. I've been alone with Tony for quite some time. Traveling across America, killing families so much like the ones Michael and I had grew up in. Well, I guess I shouldn't say we grew up in them...
Is Michael still alive, I wonder? I wish he could have stayed with us. Or that I could go with him. Tony doesn't have leverage over me anymore. Or maybe he does? Maybe he knows where Michael is. Maybe he had him killed already. I really don't know.
Maybe I love Tony? Am I that sick and twisted? Or is it psychology? Stockholm syndrome? Or maybe I'm the only one who can calm him; make him not kill absolutely everyone he comes in contact with. If I ever meet you, maybe you can help. Considering I've been willingly helping Tony for years, I deserve to go away for a long, long time.
I don't know what the future holds. All I know is, we're killing someone tonight.
♠ ♠ ♠
If you like it, I may continue it as a sequel.