Hyde and seek

Snapping at me with bloodstained jowls and teeth as unnerving as Simon Cowells,

Dad is starting our holiday with a severe case of jetlag.

Usually so docile, this murderous prick lurches forward, hatchet welded in his grip.

Swing!

Chop!

Mums hair drops in the water

as we awkwardly fling ourselves

from gondolier

to gondolier.

"Tuna or chicken?" I hear through my sobs.

My vision is fuzzy.

Nauseous with shock.

My eyes throb with pain as I strain to focus

on the sandwiches Mum expects me to scoff.

As I protest,

understandably distressed

a sharp familiar note vibrates on her lips.

"You haven't eaten all day that's why you're upset."

She snatches my wrist and my pulse grows inside it.

Trembling.

Frightened.

I'm tensely perplexed.

Does she not fear that shrieking from two boats away?

Or the piercing silence that interjects when a brain is ripped from some poor fuckers head.

How is Dad even capable of this??

Is this day something he will live to regret?

The sinister gleam in Mum's eyes is her tell.

She dreams of her hell hound disembowelling strangers.

She swells with pride as her Hyde destroys a city.

Chasing down their most expensive anniversary meal yet.