Kith and Kin

Part 1: Broken:


I enjoy peace and quiet, usually. But today I find it grates. In a house full of people I should be hearing something. Well, other than just the sound of pages turning. I blame Jes. She took my journal the other night. She made copies of it and handed it out to the family as they arrived. *sigh* She’s read it already but has yet to say a word to me since she got home.

I was first here. I came earlier than usual. I wanted a chance to talk to her, warn her that I had things to discuss tonight. I got the hand. She’s said absolutely nothing to me. I guess I know how this is going to go. Hopefully I won’t lose everyone, but I’m guessing my time as family is at an end.

“Other room please. We need a few minutes to discuss this.” Raven didn’t even look at me as she spoke. I left the room, into the kitchen with me. I might as well have a drink while they discuss my fate.

There’s an iPod sitting on the table. I peek back into the living room only to have one of my sisters catch me. I sit down at the table, a glass of whiskey in front of me. I’m fidgety, and I catch myself playing with the unfamiliar iPod. I can hear them talking quietly but I can’t make out the words. I consider leaving, after all it’s what I figure is going to happen anyway. So why wait? I get up and grab my purse, slip quietly out the door to my car. I go to put the key in the ignition and realize I’m still holding the iPod. *sigh* I’ll have to go back inside, I can’t take it with me. I might be a killer but I’m no thief. I reach into my glove box instead and pull out my stereo cord. I plug in the iPod and turn on the engine so I can have a listen.

“Eternity gazed back at me. Like an ocean’s horizon at midnight. Faintest of whispers softly caress my ears and I wonder if it is a nightmare or a dream.” words & music by Jason Sinner


I hear the words, listen to the song, and then play it again. I don’t recognize the man’s voice so why does it sound like he’s in my head? I turn off my car, and head back inside. Sitting out there where someone could see me is making me tense.

My timing is… good I suppose. I hear Gwen sending someone in to get me. Monster comes in. My Mikey, my Monster, if I lose everyone else I will still have him. He’ll still have them as well though. I may have brought him into the family but he is family. He smiles sadly at me, hugs me, and we walk into the room together holding hands. Just like whenever he was in trouble with our folks. We stand together, his arm around me. It takes me a moment but I raise my eyes to meet those of the ones I love. I look from one face to the next until I stop on an unfamiliar pair of eyes. This must be Methial. Jes told me about him, he was brought in while I was missing. I feel a shiver crawl down my back, his eyes are steady on mine and I can’t seem to look away. He smiles at me, nods his head as if in greeting, and that breaks the spell. I can’t make myself continue, my eyes drop, my gaze upon the carpet as I await their condemnation.

Jes and Gwen look at each other. I don’t have to see it to know they are having a silent debate about who’s going to speak. We’ve done this before, only it was between the three of us. I hear a soft sigh, Jes it is then. “When were you going to tell us? Or were you even going to?”

My eyes snap up to meet hers. “Of course I was going to tell you! That’s why I came early tonight!” I step away from the safety of my brother’s arms. “Had you left it alone Jes, I would have told everyone tonight. It’s why I asked for all of the family to be present. My journal is with me, in my purse. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to say it all, I was absolutely certain I’d fail. So I brought it with me. It says all the words I didn’t believe I’d be able to.” I look around and I see distress on the faces I love so much. I’m broadcasting. “Just wait a sec, please.” I walk outside, breathe deeply, I need control. I sit down on the steps, close my eyes and focus on my walls. Brick by brick they go back up.

I feel a jacket placed around my shoulders and I turn to look. It’s Methial. My look is questioning, he simply shrugs and sits beside me. “Penny for your thoughts.” He looks at me briefly before looking ahead again.

Stunned does not begin to describe my reaction to his comment. “A penny for my thoughts? Really?” I look at him and see a small smile before he looks away again. “Ok, fine. My thoughts… my thoughts are somewhat scattered right now. One thought, why are you here instead of one of my sisters? But then I realize it’s because they’re all getting themselves under control and that I had little to no effect on you. Another thought, why did I have no effect on you? Next thought, is there even any point to me going back inside or should I simply get in my car and go home? Also, why am I spilling all my thoughts to you, and why aren’t you annoyed with my ranting yet?” He smiles at me again, stands up, and offers me his hand. Before I realize what I’m doing my hand is in his and we’re walking back into the house.

He guides me over to the couch where Mikey is sitting. After I sit down he sits beside me, a little closer than I should be comfortable with but I can’t seem to bring myself to object. Gwen watches with a smirk on her lips. Jes walks in from the kitchen and hands me a glass, a light sip tells me there’s whiskey in my soda. No surprise there, she’s known me most of our lives after all. I take a larger sip and wait.


“Ok so we’ve decided it’s time to come clean with you.” Not what I was expecting. Over the course of the next several hours my family told me what they had been hiding from me. For years. It turns out my family is full of killers. Not just in defense but flat out, cold blooded killers. I mean, yes I knew my Mikey was a monster, and that my sisters and brothers all had particular skills. I suppose it hadn’t occurred to me what purpose they had set those skills to. We all have jobs of sorts. When our folks passed away Mikey and I came into some money, I’ve handled my portion pretty well and haven’t had to have a 9 to 5 job in ages. Mikey drives a truck, a big ass truck. I suppose I now know the reason he loves the open road so much. The rest well… let’s just say they have day jobs and then they have jobs that prefer the night. But those are their stories to share, not mine.

I don’t remember leaving, how in hell did I get home? Mikey had to leave early, he had a run. So I know he didn’t bring me home. How much did I drink while they told me what I’d been too dumb to see? Jes tried to make it seem like they were just that good at hiding it but when I look back they really weren’t. I was just that good at being oblivious. Oh god, it’s not even 8 o’clock in the morning and I already want a drink. I killed, I won’t deny it, but after months in that place one could argue I’d snapped. My sisters, my brothers, they all told me horrible things. The only one that said nothing was Methial. He sat there beside me the entire time, his hand on my back. I vaguely recall leaning on him after a few drinks. Oh god, I need to call Jes. She’ll tell me it was all just stories. A prank. I need my phone, maybe it’s in the kitchen?

I walk into the kitchen and notice an unfamiliar jacket on the back of one of the chairs. I thought I gave it back to Methial when we went inside. I glance around and notice the back door is open. Given my recent paranoia I know I didn’t leave it open. I look out onto the deck, he’s sitting on the steps smoking a cigarette. The smoke curls around his head, almost a caress, before it drifts away. There’s a mug beside him and only now do I realize that I smell coffee. I guess I know how I got home. Dear god, please tell me I didn’t do anything stupid last night. Well stupider.

“He can’t help you, you know.” He didn’t even acknowledge my presence until he spoke. He’s still looking into the trees. And what the fuck did he mean by that? “God is what I mean. He can’t help you. Well he could, but he won’t.” He gets up, sticks his cigarette into the pot of dirt beside him, picks up his mug, and comes back inside. Without more than a smirk in my direction he drains his cup, grabs his jacket, and heads for the front door. “I’ll see you later Dee. We have a few things to discuss.” After the door closes I can move again, I run after him, flinging the door wide, but he’s gone. Just gone. No motor, and it’s a long driveway so it’s not as if he could already have driven out of sight. There’s a wide area around the house before the trees take over and I don’t see him anywhere.

Back into the house, Jes’s voicemail picking up before I even realize I have my phone in hand. “Jes, you need to call me. Like now. Or ten minutes ago. Or come over. Who the hell is this guy? I need more answers from you. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to tell me that yesterday was a bad dream? Or a prank? Just call me, please.”

All I got was a text. “He’ll explain.” Like that helps. And why wouldn’t she call instead? I’m officially creeped out. Raven called me. She said she was sorry that she’d lied to me about what she was doing. She also apologized for telling me the truth. I can’t fault her for that. After I got off the phone with her though I realized I didn’t want to talk to any of the family. So maybe it’s better that Jes didn’t call. I need a shower… or maybe a nice long bath instead.

After I locked everything up, I soaked in the tub for a couple of hours. Bubble baths are my weakness. Every little sound was making me jumpy but I was bound and determined to enjoy my bath. Afterwards I wander the house to make certain everything was still locked up tight. This has become a ritual the last few nights. Ok time for sleep. I turn on my bedside lamp, slip under the covers, and turn over. Right into Methial.

Ok my throat hurts, I’m not sure how long, or how loud I was screaming. My back hurts which I guess is what happens when you try to shove yourself through the corner. He’s bleeding. Oh my god he’s bleeding! What the fuck did I do? “Methial?” Ok whispering isn’t helpful. Did I even make a sound? He’s looking at me. Ok I couldn’t have hurt him too bad, he’s smiling. He’s smiling and walking towards me. He’s not walking, he’s stalking, and that smile scares me.



Siara Tyr



The Orphan Killer 2 Bound x Blood Currently in Production
The Orphan Killer 2
Bound x Blood
Currently in Production

 Matt Farnsworth Films    Madness is in the Eye of the Beholder


I ache.

From the top of my head to the very tips of my toes I do not believe there is a single spot on my body that is not complaining. I wish I could say it was a good pain that I’d had an exceptional workout, or even better absolutely mind blowing sex. God that would be nice. But no, it’s his fault I feel this way but nothing nearly so pleasant. When I got home from work on Friday I had stopped to pick us up our usual. We normally have pizza, a couple of ice cold beers, and watch a movie or two before we fuck the night away. Our version of celebrating the week’s end. He arrived before me which, although unusual, wasn’t a big deal. He’s had a key to my place for six months now after all. He seemed a little out of sorts but it had been a hell of a week so I thought nothing of it. We ate pizza, drank beer, watched the third of a movie, and out of nowhere his fist connected with the side of my head. Next thing I knew I woke up here.


I think that was five or six days ago. It might be longer. He hits me so hard I pass out and I have no idea how long until I wake again. Ignoring that I still have no idea what the fuck happened, or why he’s doing this, I can’t figure out why I’m tied to a bed of all things. It’s even comfortable sort of. It’s hard for anything to be comfortable when you’re covered with bruises, cuts, and even a couple of broken bones (I think a rib, and a bone in my leg but I can’t be sure about any others). And although at some point he stripped me, he seems to be putting a blanket on me as if to let me freeze would be unacceptable. When he comes into the room he puts a straw into my mouth, lets me drink some water. But there has been nothing to eat. As I’m still breathing I can’t help but think he’s doing something when I pass out to keep me alive but why?

Ok what do I absolutely know? He’s nuts. Ok that’s not going to help. I did notice that the leg that seems to be broken is also the one tied to the least stable of the posts. I think that’s why he broke the bone. I can’t pull on the post without a lot of pain. Last time it felt as if my leg would tear in two if I kept it up. And that’s when he broke my rib. He was so angry that he just kept hitting me. It doesn’t matter though, this is only going to work one of three ways. One, I manage to get free and somehow make it somewhere safe. Two, I piss him off badly enough that he totally loses it and beat me until I’m dead. Or three, and this is the one that truly terrifies me, I stay like this for god knows how long until he tires of his games and kills me. I’m not overly fond of options two and three. I’ll try my arms again, getting a leg free won’t do me much good if it’s the only part of me not tied down.

Duct Taped Mouth

Fuck me. I wonder how long I was out this time? Ok try to remember what happened. I got my arm free! Just in time for him to walk in. Oh shit. Yup, both arms look shattered. How am I even awake let alone thinking? I should be screaming in pain. I wonder what he’s been putting in the water. I’m pretty fucked now. I can’t lift my head high enough to see my legs but I’ll guess they’re both shattered too. I’m going nowhere. Even if I somehow managed to get free he’d just follow the trail of blood until he found me passed out from the pain. He never speaks. I never have the energy to. But if I’m going to die I’d at least like to know why. I hear him coming. This is probably going to hurt.

The door opens, and he enters the room. He smiles at her, and offers her the straw. She turns her head. He forces the straw between her lips and she does nothing. “Drink” She shakes her head at him. “You need to drink or you’ll feel all of this. Now be a good little girl and do as you’re told.” He doesn’t appreciate the glare he’s receiving and he slaps her, hard. “Drink”

“Fuck off.” She can barely speak but he knows what she said.

He slaps her again. “Watch your mouth!”

“I want to know why I’m here. Why are you fucking torturing me?” Her voice doesn’t change, he damaged her vocal cords at some point, he was afraid she might scream.

“Because you’re a fucking whore that’s why! I found your phone with those messages! To some guy named Brad. You’re MY girlfriend and you’re talking about fucking him! How you can’t wait to have him….” He turns away for a moment, shaking uncontrollably.

Brad…. Brad, this is about my ex boyfriend from five years ago Brad! It hadn’t occurred to her to clear an old phone, she’d chucked it in a drawer and forgotten about it. She starts to giggle, she can’t help it, and she can’t stop it. Even when his fist connects with her cheek she giggles through the pain. “Did you even look at the dates dipshit?” It’s the last she manages to get out before he connects with her mouth, shattering her teeth. She can’t move so she chokes to death on the pieces that fall into her throat. She’s dead a good half hour before he stops hitting her.


Bloody Mouth


Siara Tyr

A continuation by Monster – The Return


The Orphan Killer 2 Bound x Blood Currently in Production
The Orphan Killer 2
Bound x Blood
Currently in Production

 Matt Farnsworth Films    Madness is in the Eye of the Beholder


There was a time I believed in you

I knew you would always be there

No one could convince me I was wrong.

You helped me to open my wings

Helped me lose most of my fear of the heights

That I was going to attain.

You pulled me free from the darkness

And taught me to play in the shadows.

You reminded me that light cannot exist without dark

And taught me to fear neither.

You thought you were helping a butterfly regain her wings.


Then came your betrayal.

You showed me that you were false,



And my anger grew.

Cold, blazing, glacial.

Icy enough to burn you to your bones.

And yet I waited.


Now, now you think you are safe

You believe yourself untouchable.

Foolish man.

Beware the shadows

Watch the skies

For it was not a butterfly you released

But a demon.

And I am coming for you.



Siara Tyr


The Orphan Killer 2 Bound x Blood Currently in Production
The Orphan Killer 2
Bound x Blood
Currently in Production

 Matt Farnsworth Films    Madness is in the Eye of the Beholder

And he waits

A collaboration And he waits

He glides silently through the trees, not a sound to be heard. No footprints left behind to mar the path. He comes up to the house,opens a door that no longer remains, and goes inside.

It’s dark, and she’s late.

She said she’d be here, made him promise he would wait. And so he would. He’d never let her down before,he would not start now.

He stands in the room waiting. She said she’d be there at duskShe couldn’t handle being apart anymore. She needed him.

He’s nervous. He doesn’t know how it will go. Her father hates him, but he loves her, and he will wait.

Photo by Jason Sinner

Photo by Jason Sinner

As he sits in the dark, he reminisces. Remembering the day he met her. They met at church. She came out from services. He was mowing the lawn

He’d never seen anyone so beautiful. And he almost ran over one of the large rocks that lined the flower bed because he couldn’t stop staring at her

She was an angel without wings and she stole his heart before her eyes met his. Within 6 hours he was courting her. Within six weeks he had bought a ring

He was so nervous it took him three tries before he could even get the words out. And when she said yes, her love shining like diamonds in her eyes he knew he’d never be happier.

And then came morning. As he stood on her father’s doorstep, his love screaming and crying in the background. Her father gave him back the ring

“My daughter will not marry beneath her station” he said, slamming the door in his face

It was nearly a month before he saw her again, exiting the church, her hand grasped firmly by her father as he dragged her to the car, her eyes silently pleading for him to rescue her, to save her

He waited until 3 am, and quietly tapped one knuckle lightly on her window. He saw her shadow as she slipped out of bed, the moonlight causing her white cotton nightgown to softly glow. She tiptoed to the window, parted the sheer curtains, pressing her hand against the glass and mouthed

“I’m locked in”

He breathed heavily on the glass, and trailing his fingertip through the fog. Wrote PACK and she smiled and nodded, and mouthed “when.” He breathed again, and wrote 3 AM TOMORROW and melted away, blowing a kiss as he became yet another shadow

The day lasted forever, the minutes ticked like hours. And he waited

Photo by Jason Sinner

Photo by Jason Sinner

When he arrived, expectant and excited. She wasn’t there. But her father was, sitting in a chair from the dining room

His shotgun across his lap

He was devastated when her father told him she was gone, he’d never see her again. The next few months passed in a daze, unknown, unremembered, lost in the memories of her eyes and her smile

Reality came with an unexpected boon. A letter from HER and his heart began to beat again and he could breath.. She begged him to meet her at the old rundown shack on the back quarter of her grandmother’s land.

He drove his dusty pickup along the overgrown trail, turning off his headlights so as not to arouse suspicion. He cringed, his heart pounding as nails dragged across the roof, only to become a branch in the rear-view mirror.

He parked behind the old place, out of view of the house and the road, in his eagerness he was early, and so he grabbed his guitar. Like a talisman against the dark and went inside.

As the sun dips beneath the horizon, the sky ablaze with colour, his anticipation grew. He strained his ear for any sound, his eyes peering out into the shadows. But it is silent, no movement to be seen, not even the songs of the nightbirds to keep him company.

And still he waited.

jason b w

Photo by Jason Sinner

He awoke with a start, the sound of footsteps just outside the entry. Dashing to the doorway, a smile on his lips, his heart bursting with joy as he stepped out into the darkness.

It wasn’t her.

Her father stood in the trees, her cousins and uncles at his side and not a one was unarmed. He stopped short, his heels slipping slightly in the dewy leaves. Against his throat, the double barrels of the shotgun rested “I told you she was too good for you, but you just don’t listen.”

He opened his mouth, and it was suddenly filled with the taste of metal and guessed it wasn’t his turn to speak. “I don’t think I can buy you off or convince you to leave. but she’ll think you did.” He tried to step back and collided with a wall of bodies.

He was surrounded. The barrels were removed from his mouth and he abruptly flew as the butt of the weapon smashed against his cheek. He heard a wolf’s cry in the distance, and trembled, fear overtaking him at last. He knew this would not end well.

He glanced up, seeing a shadow cross his vision. The moonlight blocked as the men begin to pummel him. Unable to do more than whisper her name.The lone wolf’s voice the only accompaniment to the grunts of the men surrounding him.

At dawn’s light, the farmhands came upon his body, the last of his life’s blood dying the leaves and ground beneath him, and the last few struggling breaths in his lungs escaping through his lips; Barely a sigh, and her face his final thought. They buried him in the old cellar

A few nights later, inside the rundown shack, a gentle strumming was heard, nearby wolf song providing the melody.

If you looked closely enough you could almost see him walking through the trees to the shack. A shadow darts through the trees, a flash of white, a glimpse of a bare foot, her breath coming in short gasps,as though she’s been running and crying for hours.

She glides to the doorway, her hand resting on the splintered wood. She sees his guitar laying forgotten in the corner and rushes to pick it up, holding it close as though it were him, and weeps. From inside, a rattle, and she turns it over, feeling her ring tumble into her hand

Smiling, she places the ring upon her finger, and wipes the tears from her cheeks. She steps outside into the darkness, walks like a ghost to the drivers side of his pickup and finds the key still in the ignition. She can almost imagine it retains the heat from his hand. She places the guitar beside her on the seat, and turns the key. The engine roaring as the truck drives towards where her family awaits their destiny

The paper the next day told tale of a horrible accident. One of the more prominent families in town nearly wiped out. The only surviving member, a three week old girl.


The Orphan Killer 2 Bound x Blood Created by Matt Farnsworth ©™ Full Fathom 5 Productions LLC

The Orphan Killer 2
Bound x Blood
Created by Matt Farnsworth
©™ Full Fathom 5 Productions LLC

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Dear Journal;




I feel as if these words describe not only my heart but my soul as well. Can a soul be shattered? I feel as if there is nothing left to wake up for in the morning, nothing left to care about, nothing left to live for. It has all passed me by and I was looking the other way.




My mind is wandering, aimless, unsure. Lost in a morass of fear, doubt, pain. My focus is gone, my thoughts scattered to the four winds, hidden from myself. Before I had hearts, hands, souls to help me find my way back. Now, now I am alone.

I know who I am, who I am supposed to be, what my purpose is. I have found though that I do not care. It began several months ago. I am only now free of that place, that man, the drugs, and the fear. Well perhaps not the fear. If I were free of the fear I would not be constantly glancing over my shoulder, would I? I would not have a need to have every light in the house turned on, only turning them off in the light of day. When my sisters see my electric bill they will not be pleased with me. Oh dear god, my sisters. I’m going to have to tell my sisters. Of course, it would have been nice if even one had noticed that I was not attending our usual Sunday dinners. Noticed and then come to see if they could locate me. I know I have missed a dinner or two in the past but I have never missed without letting someone know. Normally I would have contacted someone. My other sisters have missed previously, without a call, or a text. I’ve always made a point of swinging by to see if everything was alright….

No, this is his fault. His alone. Not theirs. They would not have known where to look for me, and had one come along perhaps he would have kept her as well. Or killed her. No I can’t think about that. I must remember that everyone else is alright. I could not bring myself to speak with any of them tonight, I needed to come home, shower. Did you know that showering in an empty house can be terrifying? The silence is oppressive. However do not turn on the radio or television before you shower. The silence is preferable to the sounds that cover up footsteps, breathing, doors opening….

Stop! I went by our family home before I came here. I silently peered through the living room window, and in doing so determined it was Sunday. The wine was open, popcorn made, they were watching a movie. It’s one we’ve all watched several times in the past. I was surprised to see my brothers as well. They seldom join us and I will admit that I wanted to go inside, crawl into the lap of one of our boys, and stay there. Of course I could not let them see me like that. Stolen clothes, covered in blood (not all of it mine, he felt pain before he died), my hair full of dirt, my skin covered in cuts, bruises, needle tracks…. Thank God I have seven days until Sunday.

My family is a little… unusual. We are none of us family by blood, simply by choice. We found each other gradually over the years. We know that we will most likely find more as time passes, it is the nature of our bond. We have had siblings leave, their paths veering away from ours. We have also suggested, rather firmly I might add, that a sibling or two is no longer welcome in the family home. I cannot help but wonder if my recent actions will cause my departure to be desired.

We each have a virtue that we identify with strongly. My gift has been eloquence, the capability to speak and be heard, to bring the truth to light without causing offense. I have been told that although I was not born with a silver spoon, I was blessed with a silver tongue. My family knows that a portion of my gift is the ability to broadcast my desired outcome, the positive emotions that I wish to be felt by the others involved. I have recently found out that I am also capable of permitting my fear, my anger, and my hate to be felt by others as well. How I wish I had never been taught that lesson.

I don’t actually know how it began, one moment I was home, the next I was not. The day had begun like most any other. My phone ringing. It was, of course, one of my sisters.  Raven needed my help. Her primary talent is Justice but she sometimes let it over take her. She’d gotten herself into a little bit of a pickle and needed me to talk to the group and smooth things over. Not a huge issue. So I told her I would have a quick shower, then head on to meet up with her. I never made it. I was in the shower, I heard a thump and I called out. I thought one of my sisters was over. I saw a shadow on the curtain. And then nothingness.

When I awoke all I could feel was heat, surrounding me, entrapping me. No escape. I couldn’t move, my eyes opened in panic to see nothing, darkness. I couldn’t help myself and I began to twist, whimper, cry. Suddenly I was able to move, the heat dissipating, and I felt a light touch on my arm. “Shhhhh…relax my sweet. Everything is fine, you’re safe.” A soft, masculine voice, unfortunately not a familiar voice.

“Where am I? Why can’t I see?” I wanted to shout with every fiber of my being, but that never gets anyone anywhere. I felt myself broadcast a little of my fear, just a small amount. I didn’t know if it would work, I’d never tried fear before. Concern but never fear. But then again, what had I ever truly been afraid of?

“No my sweet, none of that.” I felt a sharp prick in my arm and that was the end of that. Every time I woke he was there. If I tried to broadcast my emotions, another needle. If I screamed, another needle. If I cried, or carried on in any fashion, again the needle. As time passed I began to wake more quietly. I felt around my space using what senses I had available. As touch and sight were out of the equation I had to listen, keep myself calm and pay attention when he entered the room.

Damn it, Jes just pulled into the drive. I’ll be back. She can’t see this.



Dear Journal;

Jes saw a light on and decided to stop. She said she thought I was out of town. Wanted to know where I went for six months without telling anyone. Six months. She also gave me shit for disappearing on our sister. She had to go help Raven, though she said there was a bad taste left behind that nothing could fix. I told her to stop ranting at me that I’d explain on Sunday what happened so I only have to do so once. The light was behind me so she couldn’t see the bruises.

Anyway, after a time (I’m not sure how long) I realized that when it was really quiet, I could hear other voices. The only one that seemed able to tell when I was broadcasting was the man in charge of me, so to speak. I began to send out gentle waves of concern. I could sense a woman in the room to my left, and a man in the one to my right. I knew without trying though that he wasn’t going to be around much longer. I could feel he was letting go. I tried to send him courage, strength, hope. All I received in return was despair. The next time I woke, I sensed nothing. He was gone.

The next day I made contact, of a sort, with the woman. I could tell when she was medicated, when she was simply sleeping, and when she was awake. Sleeping meant nightmares. Fear. Awake meant terror. I could only help for short periods of time. Her fear, her terror, increased my own. So I had to keep my contact with her to a minimum. I believed that instead of becoming despondent like that man had, that she was losing her mind. There were times I heard her screaming, but the laughing was the worst. Neither lasted long though, and then I could sense she’d been drugged again.

My captor was away more. I had more time between his visits. More time awake. I’d begun to notice that my body was in pain. The only times I knew anyone was in the room was when he would come in and the world would disappear with the prick in my arm. I started to wonder what was happening when I was unaware.

I’m not certain how long it took but I must have built up a resistance to the drug. He didn’t know as I tried to be silent when I woke. I could hear him in the room sometimes, writing on occasion, sounds I didn’t recognize other times. I would stay silent, contained, hidden. I would wait, sometimes half an hour, sometimes longer before I’d try to send out calm, hope, to the lady in the next room. If I didn’t wait long enough he would come back and I’d get another needle. I finally woke very early one day. I could feel his hands on my body. He was touching me, everywhere. Pinching, squeezing, slapping. No wonder I hurt every day. After that nearly every time I woke he was touching me in some manner. I did my best to remain calm, quiet, let him think I was still out. I didn’t always succeed.

Then one day I felt the needle when he came in, but I didn’t go completely under. I could hear him talking to another man. I couldn’t track the words though, the drug made that nearly impossible. I couldn’t move either but I was aware. And then I wished I wasn’t. They took turns using my body. Not just the two, but several men. Different touches, different voices, different men all using my body for their enjoyment. Now I knew why I was bound, blindfolded, why I was being held against my will. My terror overwhelmed me, and that was all I knew for a while.

Next time I woke I awoke screaming. He spoke to me and I did not stop, I think it was a few days before I woke again. He changed my drug, I was solidly out again. This time when I woke I planned. I needed to get out. I’d been waiting, hoping that one of my sisters would arrive, tell me that I was in the hospital, tell me what had happened. They would never have left me in a place like this though. So now I knew, I had to get out on my own. But how? My hands and feet were firmly strapped to the bed. I wondered about the lady in the other room. Was she trapped as I was? Were they doing to her what they were doing to me?

Then a couple of days ago, while it was still quiet all around me, I woke suddenly. In the silence I could hear her tears. Her fears filled the room with screaming, though there was no sound to be heard. Her pain, her sense of loss, her anguish surrounded me, drowning me in her.

I began to speak. Softly, gently, low. If there was anyone walking past none but she could hear. And she heard. If only she had not heard. My words fueled her, commanded her. My words drove her. Her actions were my thoughts. My pain, my sorrow, my hatred. Her body was free, mine was not. My mind, my voice were all I had. She became my avatar. My puppet. My saviour. Their death.

She had been unresponsive for days. They no longer bothered to bind her to the bed. When her controller entered the room, she used my anger, my hatred, my out and out uncontrollable rage as her fuel. I whispered thoughts of death, mayhem, blood and she made them real. When he was dead I still did not release her from me. She killed the man in the hall, tore him limb from limb. After she released me from my bindings I stumbled to the door, leaning against it I looked out and watched his life merge with the water he had been washing the floor with. I did not mourn him though. If he was not one of the men that raped us, then he left us to them.

God damn it, who’s here now? I need to finish this. I need to get it out. But the doorbell is ringing. I’ll be back.


Dear Journal;

I need to be more careful. Devine stopped in, noticed all the lights on, and started to walk around turning them off. I had to lie, I told her I was looking for a mouse. That I thought I’d seen one and didn’t want to turn off the lights until I found it. She turned to look at me, she looked concerned and I thought I hadn’t done a good enough job with the cover-up but then she shivered and said she hoped I was wrong but maybe I could borrow a cat. I’m going to have to stop leaving the lights on all the time. It’s attracting too much attention. Tomorrow I’m going to get a lock for my bedroom door. Maybe I’ll be able to sleep. With my room at the back of the house my sisters shouldn’t notice these lights on all night.

I still don’t know her name. I guess I never will now. They killed her, they killed her as if they had plunged the knife into her body themselves.  But he wasn’t there yet. They’d called him so he was on his way. But he wasn’t there yet and none of the others seemed to feel my broadcast as an outside thing.

We’d gotten part way down the hall. We were opening doors, trying to release anyone else we found. We only found two others that could walk. There were others but they weren’t going anywhere. One man had his legs broken, and they didn’t set them properly. He told me he’d tried to escape and that was his punishment. He asked me to kill him. I told him I couldn’t. I should have then, I did later but not by choice. She’d picked up the mop, and broken off the handle. As I was untying another lady she turned and put it through some guy’s throat. He came running into the room, yelling at us. She didn’t like the yelling. I tried to rein in my emotions a little, the other lady was becoming violent as well and I realized I was still affecting them. I should have let it be though.

We found a man near the end of the hall, he could walk but there was something about him that made me nervous. We let him free anyway and he joined us. We went around a corner and into a large open space, there was a kitchen area on the other side of the room and I could see knives from where I was standing. I thought it was odd that there was no one around but I took it as a blessing and we went across the room. We each collected a couple of knives. The new lady didn’t want to but I told her to grab a couple anyway. I said she didn’t have to use them but it would keep her from looking like easy prey.

As we slipped into the next hallway, I noticed all the doors were open, no one to rescue, nowhere for anyone to be hiding. I started to calm down. I could see the doors leading to the outside world just a few meters away. As I calmed down so too did my companions, but I didn’t see it. I was walking in front with the first woman. I really wish I’d asked her name. As my emotions settled, my broadcast ebbed. I thought we were all there for the same thing. I thought we were all being used in the same manner. I have to admit I was confused when behind me I heard a gurgle. As we turned around we saw that the man we had rescued had cut the other woman’s throat. He was smiling. He was covered in her blood, and he was smiling as he moved towards us.

I froze. And because I froze so did the lady I started all of this with. Because she froze, he plunged a knife into her stomach. He did it almost as an afterthought. He was walking towards us, his eyes holding my own, he was nearly past her, she had stopped sooner than I did. Then his hand moved almost lazily to the side and I heard the sound of the knife plunging into her. His smile grew as he pulled it back out, his hand covered in gore as he sliced to the side. He made it two more steps towards me, a couple more and he would be close enough to kill me too, and still I stood. My fear had paralyzed me, he was nearly to me when he stopped with a look of confusion on his face. He should have made certain she was dead, or at least down for the count. Her pain woke her from my fear. Her kitchen knives were in his back. One in the middle, one looked to be in his kidney. As he fell her eyes locked on mine. I caught her before she hit the ground, I held her as she bled out, I cried as the light left her eyes, and I could no longer feel her presence.

I’m not certain how long I sat on the floor with her in my arms. Her blood pooled around me on the floor, his blood mingled with hers but I could not make myself move further away. I hear the doorbell but I need to finish this now. Whoever it is can come back later. It’s taken me two days to get this far, and I have yet to sleep. Maybe when I finish I will.

I heard voices coming towards me. One man was talking on a cell phone, telling someone that we were free, that the others were dead, I was the only one remaining. I waited until he was off the phone, until he and the other men were closer, and then I sent them my rage. Their targets? Each other. I sent my rage, my hatred, and my fear to all of them. The one with the phone suddenly turned to the man beside him and the phone went through his mouth. That was the only one to die quickly.  As he turned to another, he turned his back to one and he suddenly lost a part of his spine. He collapsed and I watched him die. It took a while. The one holding the spine suddenly had a chair smash over his head. I lost track of what was happening for a little while as the remaining 5 men made each other bleed. When it was down to one, I put her gently on the floor, took up my knives and walked towards him. I sent him wave upon wave of trust, love, desire. By the time I was close to him he was rather randy. I let him watch as I cut it off. Then one of my knives went through his eye into his brain, he was dead before his scream fully materialized. I went and sat back with the lady, pulled her back onto my lap, and told her that they had paid for what they did to us and that I was going to take a short rest before I went home. I believe I passed out for a while.


The next thing I remember is looking up and seeing the man that was my controller. I’d never seen him before but I recognized his voice when he spoke. He tried to take her away from me. I screamed, loud. He reached into his briefcase and pulled out a needle. I know it was to calm me down but after everything I had just been through I was not going back into that room. No one would touch me again. This man would not get near enough ever again. As he came closer I gathered my strength, and flung her at him. It knocked him over, the needle went flying. By the time he got out from under her, the needle was in my hand, and then in his arm. He was out in moments.

Had I left then I could have told my family what happened. They would have helped me deal with the repercussions, with the stress, and the fear. I would have spent the last two days with my sisters helping me to pack while my brothers went looking for a new place for me, something with enough security to please them. But I didn’t. I should have but I stayed.

I took him to one of the empty rooms that we had passed, I didn’t think there would be enough time to put him through even half of what we went through but I wanted him to feel fear. So I put the cuffs on him, and a blindfold. The door closed, locked, just in case. In another drawer I found a gag, I didn’t want him to be able to distract me, to make me change my mind. I didn’t want to hear him beg. And then I waited for him to wake.

It must have been a low dosage as he woke no more than an hour later, I think. I’m afraid my sense of time has escaped me somewhat. He jerked awake, his screams muffled by the gag, his muscles straining against the cuffs. I spoke quietly to him. He had to stop screaming if he was to hear my words. He did for a moment, and then he realized what I was saying. The screams began again. As he thrashed, and pulled I slid a knife under his pants leg. He felt the cool metal and stopped moving. I think he was afraid that I might cut him. Up one leg at a time, at the top I allowed the blade to touch his manhood, gently but enough to make him scream in fear. As I cut his shirt off I turned the blade over and left a thin slice along his pectoral muscles, very lightly, it was barely there. But it made him shriek and I was beginning to enjoy his muffled sounds. That should have told me it was time to leave but I didn’t want to.

After I disrobed him I began to broadcast my fear to him. He was already afraid and I made him terrified. I whispered softly to him, telling him what I wanted him to do, what I wanted him to feel. I told him what she had felt, what she had done, and I whispered that he would do so much more. I took control of his feelings, subtlety playing no role. I told him a story about what had been done to she and I from our perspectives. I told him a tale about how he was going to make it up to us. I could feel his resistance, his desire to break free from my control, and I laughed. And then I amplified it all twice again as much. I shattered him, and then…. then I released him from the bonds.

I instructed him to harm himself. And he did as he was bid. He cut himself, so deeply that I could see bone, and sinew. He sliced his own legs so deeply that the muscles we no longer attached, he could not have stood, walked, run…nothing, and I was pleased. But still it wasn’t enough, and I was lost to my own madness. I took the knife back, and tied him back to the bed. I’d been preventing him from feeling the pain so far. The pain would have given him strength to break my control and I could not allow that. As soon as he was bound tightly, I released my control including the pain suppression. He roared and then passed out.

Bloody Hand

Somehow some sanity broke through. I could not leave him as he was, but I no longer desired to torture him. I picked up the knife and I slit his throat. Within moments I was bathed in his blood, and yet I stood there. I watched until there was no chance of life remaining. And still I felt unsafe. I lost what control I had regained and the next thing I recall his head was no longer attached to his body. His legs weren’t even in the same room. I left his hands bound as I pulled on a lab coat I found in a closet at the back of the room.

I didn’t even try to wash up. Suddenly the fear was overwhelming me again. Any moment someone was going to walk through the door and I was never going to leave this place. I tried to school myself, control it. I couldn’t leave things as they were. Eventually someone would show up even if it wasn’t right now. If they didn’t call the cops, and I was fairly certain they wouldn’t, this would continue. They’d do this to someone else. Some part of me knew that there were others still tied to their beds but they were dead already, even if they were still breathing. I couldn’t rescue them, and by the time I could get help I was positive that the people running this place would have killed them rather than move them. This was my rationalization. And so I went back to the kitchen, I went through the cupboards and I found alcohol. I poured some out down the hallway I had been in. I poured the rest down the hallway I would leave by, and over that man’s body. Then I went back and lit all the candles I could find. I put them by the trails of booze, by the oven. I sure hoped this was going to work, it did in the movies. I kept one candle with me and I went back to the kitchen to turn on the gas stove. I wasn’t sure candles would set it off but I was fairly sure that a fire would. As I got to the doorway leading to freedom I lit my candle, left the flame up on the lighter I’d found, and tossed them both down the hall towards the booze.  I peered out the door carefully. It was dark enough outside that I felt I could slip into the shadows unobserved. When I was a little a couple of blocks away I heard an explosion, I could see flames in the distance. What do you know, it worked.

I still don’t know how I made it to the family home. Or even why I went that way at all. My place would have been closer, there would have been no risk of a family member spotting me had I just gone home. And well, here I am. Somehow I made it home from there.

I am dreading Sunday. For the first time ever I am afraid to go to my family. I could lie to them. I could make up a story, something easy, light. Something with no blood, no pain, no death. I could. But I love them. I made a promise long ago, no lies. Not within the family. They all know what I can do, although they don’t know what I am capable of. They will though. It won’t be long and I will be alone, adrift, shunned.

There’s the doorbell again. It’s being held down, that means it’s Jes and she won’t leave until she gets her way. I’ll go talk to her and then I’m going to try to sleep.

Goodnight, dear Journal.

I close the book, check my makeup to be certain she won’t be able to tell anything, and go answer the door. It’s not just Jes, it’s Raven as well. She’s hoping I can help her out and this time she’s taking me with her. It doesn’t matter that I’m exhausted, I’ll go and do my thing for my sister. I only hope I can control my emotions. I can’t exactly be broadcasting fear every time someone comes near me, touches me, invades my space…. crap. Jes comes back down the hall from the washroom and I tease her about falling in. She laughs and tells me it’s time I changed the lock on that door, that it tries to keep her in every single time. I tell her not to worry about that door, that I’m going to start looking for a new place tomorrow. That this place is too big for just me. My sisters, the loves that they are, offer to help and as we head out we discuss what I’m looking for in a new place. Raven insists that this time I get a place with a pool. As we get into the car we’re laughing, it very nearly drowns out the screaming in my head.

I’m going to try to enjoy their company. It might be the last time.

Silver Tongued Duchess

Silver Tongued Duchess


The Orphan Killer 2 Bound x Blood Currently in Production

The Orphan Killer 2
Bound x Blood
Currently in Production

 Matt Farnsworth Films    Madness is in the Eye of the Beholder