The Guardian Devil

My story? You threw me in a strait jacket for years and you’re only now asking for why I’m here? Whatever, whatever. I don’t have much time left anyways.

Where do I start? It has been a good few years since it happened. Yes, yes! My father. He had been arrested for sex trafficking. For how long? Three years. THREE YEARS? He committed rape and sexual coercion and he only gets three years? He should’ve gotten the death sentence. But whatever.

I was arriving to my father’s house after he had been let go. I texted him a few hours before that I was going to show up. Before heading in however, I concealed a six shooter at my hip. I wasn’t meeting my dad without protection (Believe me, he got angry) On my way in, it was as silent as could be. The neighbour’s dog barked at me, but other than that, there was nothing. I knocked on the door, and it creaked open on the first hit. I shrugged it off as my dad just forgot to close the door (He forgot everything.) Once I entered, it was also silent. No fan was on, no ticking clocks, nothing. That’s what made the cries easy to hear. Muffled under me was cries, begging to be let go. Cautious, but curious, I found the door to the basement. Closed, but not locked. Upon opening it, the voice became easier to hear. But the stench also hit me. Mixed with the smell of old basement (That’s a smell I know all to well, as I worked on tidying up basements constantly) was also the smell of rot. Now, I was scared. I pulled out my gun, and quietly stepped down the concrete steps. At the bottom of the stairs, I saw not one, not two, not even three but four corpses. Each was a woman, all naked. And every single one was most definitely not breathing. They were all sat up next to a wall, their shoulders bolted to the wall. I raised my gun, ready to shoot the monster that did this. I followed the cries, and found the source. She was under my father. It was a disgusting sight. Horribly disgusting. Fluids from both of them, and even fluids from not them, were all over the floor. I pointed my gun at my father, and told him to move away from the woman. He froze stiffer than the raisin that was in the woman. He pulled away from the woman, and stood to face me. He was beginning to speak, but I had already pulled the trigger on his shin. He yowled, screaming countless profanities. I quickly helped the woman to her feet, and helped her out of the basement. I closed the door behind me, moving a wooden chair against it. Probably not the best, but I wanted to help the woman quickly.

I brought the woman outside, and let her sit in the trunk of my truck. I told her to stay there, and I went back into the house. I swung open the door to the basement, and headed down. I saw my dad crawling towards the stair when he froze when he saw me. I pointed my gun straight at his head. I said some badass one liner, that time has caused it to slip from me, and shot him in the forehead.

I just did what should’ve been done from the beginning.