The Punished

My daughter’s infant giggle echoed down the hall. The early sun splintered through the blinds making a light show of the dust. We needed to clean. I sat up as Grace ran in, jumping on the bed. Saturday mornings were one of the few things I looked forward to now. Work had completely defeated me. Aside from being good at what I did, there was little I enjoyed during the week. Today though. Today, we had plans.

We packed a bag and headed out to the zoo. The sun was bright, the sound of our little girl’s laugh and excitement would be enough to get me through another long week. After the zoo, we grabbed lunch and sat outside in the sun talking about the monkeys and giraffes, her favorite. One more stop at the local flea market and we would be home. The sun was laying to rest and darkness began devouring our small town. Grace had fallen asleep in the car. I slowly got her out of the car seat and held her against my shoulder, the warmth of her body radiated into my heart. I simply smiled at her mother, the love of my life as we walked inside.

Just as I lay Grace down in bed, my phone vibrated. Work. Of course. They wouldn’t be able to find their way out of a paper bag, much less get any actual work done. This was different though. An emergency. They felt the need to call me. I was taken back by the call and worked out a solution in my head, but it would be too late.

It took me 10 seconds to realize that the loud bang I had just heard was the front door. I had locked it, though. Right? I rushed downstairs to the sound of screaming as my wife fought off the invaders, swinging and kicking with all her might. I could barely comprehend what was happening. I hesitated. In that moment, another loud bang. Did they come in the back door as well? No, this bang was different. The waves of the audio bounced through the house, hitting me a million times. My wife slowly slid to the floor, staring up to me with confusion. A pool of blood below her. Behind me, crying began.

I rushed to Grace’s room, slamming and locking the door. I rushed to the window, looking for a way to get her out. Too slow. The bedroom door began to splinter, cries from my daughter got louder. Rushing to Grace, I shielded her from the men, swinging at them with a child’s chair. A cold rush started flowing from my leg as I fell to the floor. I looked up to ask why. They knocked me unconscious. A few hours later, I awoke. Grace was gone. My wife lay in the living room, cold and lifeless. My eyes felt heavy. Probably from the blood loss. My body went limp as I fell to the ground. Darkness took over and I felt myself drifting away. Complete black.

My daughter’s infant giggle echoed down the hall. The early sun splintered through the blinds making a light show of the dust. We needed to clean. I sat up as Grace ran in, jumping on the bed. I was flushed and sweaty. A nightmare? Had I really dreamt the entire thing? Relieved, and a bit frightened, I got up and took the longest shower of my life. As the steam cleared my sinuses, my wife walked in to ask if I wanted to go to the movies. Of course, that would be fun. We enjoyed the day together. The sun was bright and kissed our skin with warmth. A perfect Saturday.

The sun was setting as we drove home. I listened to the radio softly as my girls dozed off. Ahead of me, headlights flashed bright, and swerved. I reacted as quickly as possible. It wasn’t enough as we slammed together and rolled. When the car finally came to a stop, panicky, I checked on Grace and my wife. It was happening again. This time, it wasn’t a dream. Their lives had been taken in front of my eyes. Sobbing, my head sunk and I hit the steering wheel before passing out. Probably, from the blood loss.

My daughter’s infant giggle echoed down the hall. The cycle continued. My mind broke more every day. Every night, I would see my family killed in front of me, no matter what I did. On day 6, I took us and locked us in the basement with rations and blankets, only for the house to burn down. On day 16, I drove straight to a gun store, and attempted to take my own life. As the darkness consumed my mind, I didn’t awake in my bed this time. It was a pale, white room with a single desk ahead of me. A large, leather office chair slowly spun around. An older man in a black suit and white hair greeted me. Am I in heaven?

“You’ve had an interesting couple of weeks,” the man said. “It seems you’ve misunderstood what’s happening.”

I stood still, unable to move or breathe. My chest gasping for air. His hands pushed forward a small binder, slowly opening it to show me photos of families. Friends. People. People, I knew. “What is this? Why are you showing me these people?” I questioned.

“You know why.” He let out a small smirk. A cold sweat ran down my forehead into my brow. The man continued, “It seems, you believed you were above the law. Above all, in fact.” The air I had left evacuated from me in one, large breath. We locked eyes for what felt like an eternity. I could feel a burning from his gaze.

“Who are you? God?” I uttered. “The Devil?”

“I am simply… a messenger. A messenger to tell you that this is your life. Now. And forever.” He shifted in his seat slightly, letting the leather let out a soft screech. “You’ve done some terrible things in your life. Awful things. Each of these, a family you affected.”

“Fuck.” Was the only thing I could get to form out of my mouth. It hit me in the face like a semi driving down the highway. My line of work was hard to explain. I hurt people. I was, sadly, very good at it.

“Your family is well, and being taken care of. Not to worry about that.” His head looked down at the open binder. “Unfortunately. For you. This is your life now. Every day. Forever.” He closed the binder with a loud snap. “If you attempt to make this easy on yourself again, and opt for a quick way out. We will see each other again.” The man slowly began spinning back around, his back facing me. “Enjoy your morning.”

My daughter’s infant giggle echoed down the hall. The early sun splintered through the blinds making a light show of the dust. This was it. This was my Hell.