What a Waste

What a Waste Lets see.... When did this all start?

I guess it would be walking home with my friends that one hell of an evening.

It was just the four of us. I wasn't too close with two of them, Hell, I even forgot their names, but my best friend of the lot I remembered. Davis.

He was very energetic and happy, but thinking back at it now, thats how most five year olds act.

Now about that evening, me and my friends were walking home. No new information there.

Living in the small town that we did, it was perfectly acceptable for children to walk home at early ages, even if the school is located a town over. It was perfectly safe according to all the people who had done it themselves. Up until this afternoon.

With houses being in different Neighborhoods, the two friends who's names lapse from my memory shuffle of to their own houses.

Normal.

As we walk off toward our homes to do whatever children our ages did, we run into a man we hadn't seen before. We've seen the videos at school before, that strangers should be avoided. As we walked around the man, he grabbed us both by our arms.'

We flipped our shit, struggling to get out of this guys death grip. Davis slips out, but before I know what happens next, my head hits pavement and I black out.

With a dull ache in my skull and an empty stomach, I open my eyes.

Huge mistake.

It was the man from before, but there was another guy as well. they were sitting by a fire, a little ways away, stuffing their mouths with food. The one from before, who was much more bulkier that the other, was whispering to the other guy, but I couldn't understand what he was saying. As I strained to hear, the second one looks at me and smiled.

"Why, hello little boy. You hungry?" He tossed a limb at me. A human arm. I stared at it, begging to myself that this was just some twisted nightmare. I didn't have the luxury of that. What the hell had I gotten dragged in to?

"Go ahead, eat it." There was no way I was doing that. I squirmed, just to find I was tied up by some kind of rope.

"You picked up a stupid one, Jonson." The smaller one said to the bulkier one.

<span style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-size:13px;line-height:19.5px;">"Does it matter anyways?"

<span style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-size:13px;line-height:19.5px;">"No, I suppose not. Not very polite though." <span style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-size:13px;line-height:19.5px;">Polite? We're sitting in a cave. We don't need manners in a damn cave.

<span style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-size:13px;line-height:19.5px;">The smaller one stood up and walked over to me, holding something covered in cloth. "Might as well feel comfortable," He said as he revealed his package. It was Davis' decapitated head. His expression showed fear, while his eyes were hollow from death. I puked.

<span style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-size:13px;line-height:19.5px;">"ahh, is the little boy not feeling okay?" The man snickered, shoving Davis' head into my newly wet lap. He took the blood soaked cloth he'd wrapped Davis' head with and tied it around my head so that it would cover my mouth.

<span style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-size:13px;line-height:19.5px;">"Thats better. We don't need anyone finding out about this, now don't we?" He tugged at my rope bondage and made sure they were tight before turning back to his comrade. "Jonson, I'm going to go check if any cops are sniffing around."

<span style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-size:13px;line-height:19.5px;">With him gone, the big man turned to me. "Hey Kiddo." Kiddo? WHo does this guy think he is, my dad? "Sorry that I brought you and your friend into this, but we need food, and you were the closest thing there was." Thats sick, you fucking bastard.

<span style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-size:13px;line-height:19.5px;">"We need fresh food, so you'll be alive for a few more days. In that time... How about we have a little fun? You know, just to pass some time." He smiled as he stood up and walked up to me. With the force of a freight train, he kicked me into the wall. I started coughing, but the blood stained rag started to choke me. I started to tear up from the foul taste of it.

<span style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-size:13px;line-height:19.5px;">As the man reeled in for another kick, the other dude walked in. "Jonson, what the fuck are you doing? Wait a while before you kill him, you idiot!" He sat down at the fire.

<span style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-size:13px;line-height:19.5px;">Jonson backed off and sat down as well. "I was just tenderizing the meat," he said, like that justified anything.

<span style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-size:13px;line-height:19.5px;">"Do that later, we have the cops to worry about first." The guy lied down, and said to me, "Night kid."

<span style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-size:13px;line-height:19.5px;">And with that, they went to bed, leaving me all alone.

<span style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-size:13px;line-height:19.5px;">I woke with a start. It was easily past dawn. I was moving, but it wasn't me doing it.

<span style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-size:13px;line-height:19.5px;">"So, your awake kid? Good, because my friend and I want breakfast. Wouldn't be right, not waking you up first, now would it?" The man named Jonson leaned me against a tree, and using extra rope, securely tied me to the tree. As he walked a few feet away, he grabbed an axe, which he the proceded to sharpen. It was at this time my brain told me to run, but my body refused. Even with all the adreneline, it was all useless. I was about to be chopped up into some madmen's bacon, and nothing could be done about it. I would never see my mother, my dad, my pain-in-the-butt sister, or friends again. Certainly not Davis.

<span style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-size:13px;line-height:19.5px;">I couldn't flee. I couldn't struggle. I could only wait.

<span style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-size:13px;line-height:19.5px;">When Jonson was done, he walked up to me, branishing the axe in his right hand. "Well kid, it was nice knowing you." He raised his axe and swung.

<span style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-size:13px;line-height:19.5px;">Gunshot.

<span style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-size:13px;line-height:19.5px;">Jonson dropped his weapon with his mangled remains of a hand. Suddenly a man stepped out. My dad. He wasn't alone, as police men stepped out from everywhere and swarmed Jonson, arresting him. Even as my dad pulled me out of the mess of ropes that bound me and carried me to an ambulance, it didn't make a difference.

<span style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-size:13px;line-height:19.5px;">My friend was still dead.

<span style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-size:13px;line-height:19.5px;">I'd still experienced this torture.

<span style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-size:13px;line-height:19.5px;">The other man was still at large.

<span style="color:rgb(0,0,0);font-size:13px;line-height:19.5px;">... What a waste.