The+Kill

**I stood before him as he lay, squirming on the floor. He clutched his midriff as he rose on to his hands and knees, blood spurting from his mouth. Then, in an instant, his hands went limp and he crashed to the floor in a sprawled mess. ** 
 * __The Kill __**
 *  I looked down at the bloody butcher’s knife within my hand. My future was lost! I was only twelve years old, barely of age, and I had made my first kill. //Why had I even done it//, I thought to myself. I had no justification, how would I explain why I did it? What had he done that been so wrong…but I was not a bastard child! I scrunched up my face and tightened my grip on the knife as hatred for the dead man on the floor welled up inside me. I had done the right thing, or so I thought. Then, what if I got caught? My grip on the knife slackened as the reality of the situation dawned upon me. My attention was caught as the floorboards behind me creaked. I turned, to face the one eyed butcher as he used the counter to help pull him to his feet. **
 * “What have you done boy?” My grip on the knife tightened once more as his gruff voice pierced my ears. I had been caught! There was no escape…unless…the butcher had to die! **
 *  He placed his huge hands on either side of the counter and his one blue eye loomed on me as he seemed to suddenly tower above me. Guilt, remorse and dread clenched my bloodthirsty heart as a single tear fell from my once red eyes. I was not a killer! I dropped the knife as the butcher repeated his words. **
 * “What have you done?” he asked again, this time, expecting an answer. **
 * “I didn’t mean to,” I stammered. I was afraid, but above all, I was sorry. “He just made me so angry…I couldn’t control my actions…I’m sorry!” I knew what I had said would make no difference, but I had to try. Tears fell from my green eyes, suddenly seeming innocent, even amongst the glare of the red blood within my eyes. The butcher’s face softened as he grabbed my bloodstained hand and wiped it with his apron. **
 * “I forgive you boy…and so does the Lord. You feel remorse for your sin and that is all that He asks. Now what you have to do is live like an ordinary man and learn from this event.” He took both my hands within the scarred palms of his own. “Don’t make the same mistake I did. Make your first kill your last, for a revolution has begun within you…inside here.” He placed his hand on my chest and I felt his pulse against my heartbeat. “From now on, your ultimate defence is to pretend that this never happened and revolve around yourself just like an ordinary man: change what you are, for the only other option would be to forget. But you cannot do that…for we must learn from the past, live in the present and believe in the future.” He returned my hands to my sides and pointed to the door which lay ajar. “Now go!” his words grew cold and his face hardened. I headed to the door; I didn’t want to get on the wrong side of the butcher. “Mark my words boy,” he shouted after me as I stopped just before the open door. “Do not make the same mistake I did; make your first kill your last, not one of many. Go!” **
 * I ran! I didn’t even stop to hear the baker shout after me as I swiped a loaf from his stand on my way. I just kept running and did not stop until I reached the safety of my quiet, peaceful, safe home. **
 * Getting to sleep that night was like trying to wake a dead man. I lay in my bed, just looking up at the wooden ceiling above me, watching the nooks in the wood swirl and move as I grew tired. I closed my eyes and waited for sleep to succumb me, seeing nothing but the face of the boy I had killed, hearing nothing but the words of the butcher, smelling nothing but the rank smell of gone off meat, tasting nothing but blood and feeling nothing but fear. What would happen to the butcher and what if I killed again? Would I get away with it this time, or would I run? Of course I would run! I had done it all my life, why should now be any different…but I had killed someone! I smacked my hands onto my face as I tried desperately to conceal my emotions. As the rain outside beat down, my heart sped up to join it. It wasn’t working…I was going to have to live with my guilt. I sat up and slumped over to the open window. I looked outside into the blackness of the night and watched a man hurry through the rat infested street below. I watched him for a while, not letting my eyes leave his hooded black body. Then, my worst fears were confirmed, he was heading towards my house. A sword slapped against his bony legs and his cloak bulged over his back as if he were a hunchback. As he got closer to my house, he placed a hand on the hilt of his sword as the reality of the situation struck me – I had been caught! I slammed the shutters of the window shut and began to pace up and down my room, thinking…panicking. He was here to arrest me. There would be no escape. I would meet my bloody life in a cold dark cell. I would die a brutal death face to face with a... **
 * “Isaac!” my heart slowed and I breathed a sigh of relief. It was just my father. “Isaac!” he called again. **
 * “Coming!” I replied. I was never asleep when he came home. I stopped pacing and approached the door. As I reached out to touch it, a single tingle ran down the length of my spine. A thought in the back of my head told me that somehow, perhaps my father knew what I had done. I shook the thought away and opened the door, running down the stairs I threw myself at my father as I began to cry, unable to conceal my emotions any longer. He held me within his grasp for a while and then he pushed me back and looked at me with his caring eyes. He held the tops of my arms and wiped the tears from my eyes. **
 * “What’s the matter boy?” he asked in his usual gruff voice. **
 * “I...” I couldn’t tell him...could I? He would be so ashamed...so angry...or would he understand. “I...” I couldn’t do it. The Devil had besieged me, my sin would go un-said...un-quoted...un-faced. It was like the butcher said; I had to pretend that it never happened and live on. **
 * “Well?” **
 * <span style="font-family: 'Calibri', 'sans-serif';">“I was just relieved! You’d been gone so long and I feared the worst,” I begun to make it up on the spot, improvise if you like. **
 * <span style="font-family: 'Calibri', 'sans-serif';">“I was only gone a week.” It hadn’t yet occurred to me that he had been gone for much longer than that before. **
 * <span style="font-family: 'Calibri', 'sans-serif';">“You didn’t say you’d be gone that long though.” Again, I lied, realising how easy it seemed to be. **
 * <span style="font-family: 'Calibri', 'sans-serif';">“Well...you know how things are?” I nodded hoping to God that he would not ask any more questions. **
 * <span style="font-family: 'Calibri', 'sans-serif';">Later that day, we headed into town. When we neared the market, I heard distressing noises that made my heart beat faster than ever before. Somewhere inside of me, I knew something was about to happen...but what. All was quiet...but not for me; banging...shouting...a mother’s hysterical cry; all coming from the butchers shop. We stopped, along with everyone else in the square, just in time to see two burly built guards drag a man outside and wrestle him to the floor. I recognised the man as the butcher, his once white apron now tainted with blood...my blood...the blood of my victim. The guards clubbed him over the head, rendering him unconscious. The mother’s cry grew louder as she came closer. They pierced my soul with every ounce of guilt you could possibly feel at one moment in time. Two other guards carried the body of a blonde haired boy out into the streets on a stretcher. The boys face was pale and a bloody stab wound stained his white tunic...blood which I had spilt. As they dragged the butcher up, the mother, still sobbing for the loss of her baby boy, shuffled out of the door. The whole scene was all too much for me. My father grabbed my shoulder and pulled me away. Reluctantly, I followed him, knowing that I had to do as the butcher had said. **
 * <span style="font-family: 'Calibri', 'sans-serif';">Believe me when I say that I wanted so painfully to run up and confess my sin. My victim was only a boy...much the opposite of the man I had become with the death of just one person. He was innocent, and I had taken his life away from him and I wept inside for the mother, the woman who would have to bury her son before herself. He didn’t deserve to die....but I was not a bastard child. I clenched my fists as I walked away with my father...as I walked away from my sin. The guilt which was once inside of me was no more. Now, it was fear, fear of what I had become...I was a borne killer and what’s more, I had committed the greatest sin known to man. **
 * <span style="font-family: 'Calibri', 'sans-serif';">As we walked away, my fists relaxed and I looked back as my father stopped to look on. As I looked back at the guards carrying the butcher away, I contemplated whether or not to come clean. Trust me when I say that I was sorry for what I had done. This event would mark a day in my life when I decided that it was better to “Grin and bear it” than to run. I would not run, for I was a man and it was about time that I faced my wrongs rather than run from them, which I had done for far too long. As I turned back to walk with my father, the final words of the butcher rang within my head. I had to forget about i and begin anew. I had to make my first kill my last and not make the same mistake as he did. My first kill was to be my last...not one of many... **