Page 34 of Sweet SIN Slaughterhouse

“I’m not hiding, Dad. Come and get me, I’m right fucking here.”

My arms are wide open, with bright, hot flames as my backdrop. The church is hundreds of years old, and the moment I lit the first old wooden pew inside, it spread rapidly and flames engulfed the place in minutes. Looking up momentarily, black smoke blocks the view of the morning sun. What a shame.

Then tires squeal against the pavement. The smell of burning rubber joins the overwhelming smell of smoke from the church.

I look over, it’s a black Range. Grinning, my body vibrates with adrenaline.

It’s time to play. The battle to end all battles.

I am about to play the deadliest game of chicken with a psychopath.

My dad.

BLAISE

EPILOGUE

“How long do I have to stay here?” I ask my sister, the new queen bee of the society.

Placing her scarred palm against the bulletproof glass, I notice the significance but can’t find it in me to give a fuck. Sid is trying to pull at my emotions, emotions which I do not contain for anyone else butherand possibly Mom, and that is a big fucking maybe.

The phone is pressed tightly against Sid’s ear. “Until it’s safe for you to come out.”

Her voice speaks as if she is feeling pain and sadness regarding the situation, but like everyone else, I'm sure they are happy to be rid of me.

“And you think he can’t get me in here?” I laugh hysterically through the other end. What a fucking joke, my dad and the society can get anywhere they want.

She is quick to jump in and reassure me. “He won’t. It would hurt Mom; it would hurt me. Dad won’t risk that… plus, he would have to find you first…” And at this point I think Sid is trying to convince herself of that too. She needs to wake the fuck up and realize I am not dead because he doesn’t want me dead, yet, but it’s coming. Unless…

My laughter continues, echoing off the white cylinder block walls, as I realize what she’s done. Well fucking done, sis.

“He doesn’t know? You are so screwed when he finds out you have been hiding me,” I taunt.

If my dad wants me dead, he won’t sleep until it happens.

“Sid, fuck you. Fuck the institution you are so desperate to fit into, fuck the family.”

I drop the phone on the wooden desk before me and stand, showing off my orange jumpsuit along with my prisoner number, 00881306. The newest inmate at Bozeman Correctional Center.

“Guard, I’m done here,” I shout, banging on the glass so I can be escorted back to my cozy cell for two. The guy may as well take me to the green mile, because my days are fucking numbered.

Hecan get to me from anywhere.

THE END.

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