"Mother. . . oh, mother. . . ". The eyes had returned to their golden brown state. "Why didn't you believe me? Or maybe you did. . . Could it be that you knew what I said was true and you chose to ignore? You chose to ignore it so that you can have your perfect family? Is that it? You fucking stupid cow!! Do you see what you could have averted? Do you? Enough! It is done."
During her tirade Tara's eyes had changed back to their pupil-less solid blood red color and as she finished speaking sparks flew from her eyes.
"Please. . . please forgive me. . . I'm sor-"
"Go to hell." the words were emotionless yet they carried the weight of the world. It was a damnation that would come to pass.
Slowly, Tara stretched out her hand and made a fist; mother screamed. Michael could see bones snapping in his mother's small frame; he could hear them give way to his sister's will. The screams beacame gurgling cries as blood jetted from her mouth in a crimson-black river. Her skin fissured and cracked open as beads of blood sweated from every pore. Dime sized tears of blood fell from their mother's eyes before they, her eyes, flew from their sockets. In the end all that remained was a bloodied husk of rotting flesh.
"Oh my-"
"God does not exist Michael. I am God. The only God that you should believe in. I will not suffer for sufferance's sake. I am tired of being an object of pity and ridicule. Today starts a new era. I AM GOD!"
Her ruby eyes turned towards the father.
"Oh, dad. . . if only you knew. You are a disease. An unhappy man who needs to dominate something or someone who would never fight back. You are a small minded animal who allows your small dick to do the thinking for you. You do not deserve to live."
Michael could hear the wet ripping sounds of unwilling flesh. He could almost taste the coppery bitterness of the blood; it was so heavy in the air. He cried. Eeriest of all was the silence. Save for the tearing of flesh all was esconced in golden silence.
Her eyes glowed red. . . this was her moment.
Justice.
Revenge.
Death.
Slowly, her lips spread in an unholy angelic grin. Michael closed his eyes and felt.
The pain, the humiliation and the building anger. Especially the anger. He could feel his own lips parting into a grin as he became one with his sister.
Their father hung in the air arms outstretched. His throat worked constantly but no sound issued forth. Slowly, he spun as if fixed on a central axis in turn showing his bloody back (part of it remained on the wall) and his chest were an invisible cat-o-nine tails flayed strips of flesh. Slowly, the lower jaw ground into the upper jaw as the lips were fused shut. Teeth could be heard breaking. His eyes became crimson and with the mounting pressure burst from their sockets. The penis became a mass of unrecognizeable flesh as it was turned inside out. His silent scream echoed in his children's minds.
There are people who slowly emerge from their sleep; degree by miniscule degree. Others just wake up; one moment they are deep in the embrace of the Sandman and the next they are fully cognizant of their surroundings. Michael does the latter and simply awakes.
Leisurely, he stretches and yawns. There had been some sort of dream but. . . what was it? It doesn't matter. In the pre-dawn light all is quiet and peaceful. Nothing else matters.
He hears furtitive footsteps pass his bedroom door and move towards Tara's room. He hears the door open and quickly close. Michael gets out of his bed and quietly makes his way to his sister's room. He places his ear to her closed door.
"Shhh, honey. It's only me. . . daddy."
The rythmic sound of creaking bed springs and soft whimpers. In Michael's mind Tubular Bells and the agonized pleading: ". . . mother. . . make it. . . STOP!. . . STOP!!"
A single tear escapes his eye as he remembers the dream.