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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
Marie is an unmarried woman still living in her family home with her father and his new wife. After her mother left Marie's life fell to pieces and her father's pride turned to shame. She now stands behind him, yielding an axe she plans on burying into his back. But can she do it?

Submitted: May 14, 2016

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Submitted: May 14, 2016




I paused, gripping the handle of the axe tighter until my knuckles went white. I wanted to do this for so long, but could I? My father hummed his usual tune in front of his bookshelf probably deciding which novel to reread. The dark shelf stretched from the floor to the ceiling and across the entire back wall of his study, with a thin latter that let us reach the top shelf which rolled from side to side. Father was a well-read man and took pride in his books, more than he took pride in his daughter.

After mother left us he started looking at me differently. His love turned to discomfort and his pride turned to shame. Now he crouched down and plucked a book from one of the lower shelves, mumbling something about his knees as he rose up and groaned. I considered letting him die an old man. But I, as an unmarried women passing my peak years, saw no prospect of finding a man. I would have to live here with father and his… perfect new wife; like living inside of a nightmare.

‘Do it’.

I flinched when the little voice in my head chimed in to egg me on.  

‘Stop trying to justify yourself. Just do it.’

I shut my eyes and took in a deep breathe. I could do this, I had to. Upon opening my eyes again father’s back was still to me, no more than a meter away. I don’t think I could have done it if I saw his face.

I lifted the axe and steadied myself before swinging it back down as if I were chopping at a block of wood. I felt the pressure as the blade swiped through something, then watched as father lurched forward. His head slammed against the books before his body crumpled down, his head hitting the shelf on the way down. The blood was barely visible against the dark leather of the books he loved so dearly.

My heart quickened when I looked down at father who was laying on his side with his head down. The gash at the back of his skull oozed a dark liquid which matted his hair, and I felt the urge to touch it. Everything went quiet and I thought it was over until he let out a muffled groan and tried to shift his arm.

I brought the axe back down again immediately, hacking away at father’s back and arm fifty four times. He must have been dead by the thirtieth, but I wanted to be certain he was not coming back. With each chop blood sprayed upwards, showering me and decorating my skirt with drops of crimson. My breathing was heavy by the time I was done, I hadn’t expected it to be this much work. I wiped my forehead with my arm as I felt the sweat build up on my skin, but when I lowered my arm again I only saw more red.

I was done with father then. I left him lying in a pool with his back shredded and his arm nearly severed completely off. He was not going to get up and the thought brought a sort of calmness to my mind. I almost wanted to stop there.

“Marie?” I heard my step mother call from downstairs, and I knew it was not over yet.

Step mother was not the kind of woman to investigate when things seemed out of the ordinary, however I was rather surprised when she didn’t appear in the study. I would have loved to have seen her face as she came across my father’s lifeless body, heard her scream before I buried the axe into her chest. Luckily, I am an easily adjusted woman and can adapt to any situation.

So I descended down the steps slowly and quietly, holding the axe tightly as not to let it slip out of my hand. I already knew she would be in the kitchen baking a pie as usual. Father often said he married Victoria for the pies she baked but I knew his desire to marry her was based more so on her body. As for Victoria, well there are few reasons why a young woman would agree to marry a shrivelling man like my father; hers being money. How sad that she would get none of it after I was through with her.

The smell of an apple pie replaced the metallic scent of blood as I walked towards the kitchen and I toyed with the idea of baking Victoria into a pie. It brought a smile to my face as I watched her pull the pastry out of the oven. She placed it onto the counter and took off her oven mitts before wiping her hands on her skirt. It was then that she noticed me standing in the doorway. She flinched, her blue eyes growing wide and her plump lips parting as she looked me up and down.

“Marie, w-what have you done?” She stuttered while keeping her eyes trained on the axe.

Blood dripped from the blade onto the white kitchen floor and I’m sure if she weren’t so in shock Victoria would have scolded me for making a mess in her kitchen. She had started calling it hers shortly after she moved in despite the fact that it had been designed by mother and built especially for her. Just the thought of her claiming mother’s things caused a ball of anger to grow and burrow deep in my chest.

I lifted the axe so that my right hand, along with the left, now held it tightly as I stepped closer towards Victoria. I’m certain she must have known her fate the moment she saw the axe, but as I walked towards her the shock written on her face finally turned to fear. With every step I took she took one backwards until her behind bumped into the counter and she flinched again.

With me closing in on her Victoria knew she had nowhere to escape to. She lifted her hands in a feeble attempt to deter me all while mumbling a prayer under her breath. She had given up, unlike father who I know would have put up a hell of a fight if only he saw me coming. Instead Victoria shut her eyes and continued to prayer as I reeled the axe backwards.

She let out a high pitched, panicked scream when the axe came forward and sliced into her throat. It felt much softer than when the axe carved into father’s skull, and it sliced much deeper than I had expected. The screaming turned to a nasty gurgling as the blood bubbled up and out of the wound, coming down in a stream like a red curtain along her neck. Her eyes snapped open and she stared blankly at me as I pulled the blade out of her neck. I then watched the life fade from her dulling eyes before Victoria crumpled down to the ground with a thump, the way father had.

Her body convulsed upwards as she spewed blood from her mouth in what seemed like an attempt at a cough. Rather disgusted by her slow dying, I pitched the axe forward again and buried it between her breasts the way I had always wanted to.

Victoria’s head then tipped to the side and her dull eyes no longer stared at me. I looked away from her and took in a deep breath, sighing in relief. The smell of blood mixed in with the sweeter scent of the baked goods. It smelled so good I just couldn’t resist, and I thought of that moment as a cause for celebration. I was finally free. So I stepped around the pool of dark colored blood, not wanting to get any on my shoes, to get to the pie.

I picked a fork out of the drawer and jabbed it into the soft flesh of the pie, scooping out a golden filling. My mouth watered as I finally took a bite and the pie melted away. I’d have to agree with my father that Victoria’s pies were absolutely heavenly, but that is the only thing I will miss about her.

As I licked my lips I got a small taste of blood, bringing me back to reality and forcing me to turn my attention back towards the body that was making an awful mess in the kitchen. I grabbed a hold of the axe handle and tried to pull it out only to find it stuck in Victoria’s chest. I had to place my other hand on the handle and push the body with my foot to get the axe free.

While wiping the blade on my skirt I looked at her one last time and said, “A little less cinnamon next time Victoria.”

Then stepped around her body and left the kitchen, thinking of all the things I would do, now that I am free.



© Copyright 2018 Patricia Vox. All rights reserved.

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