The Braille Killer by Daniel Kuhnley

Author:Daniel Kuhnley [Kuhnley, Daniel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Drezhn Publishing LLC
Published: 2019-02-04T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

I stand at the mirror in storage unit 109, leaning on my cane and watching her like he does. She looks so peaceful lying in bed, her arms neatly folded over her abdomen like a corpse at a viewing. Her chest rises and falls slowly and her eyelids twitch, her eyes moving back and forth under them. She’s dreaming, but is it of him or of me?

Through the mirror I see a shadow on the floor creeping toward her and panic sets in. I beat on the mirror with my palms, but she does not wake. I bang harder and scream until my throat is raw, but she does not stir.

He creeps closer and my heart beats faster. He’s nearly upon her and there’s nothing I can do but watch. Now it’s not just his shadow I see but also him. He turns and grins at me with yellowed teeth. Even through the mirror I can smell garlic, pickles, and ash.

He reaches down, opens her mouth, and stretches out her tongue, but still she does not wake. In his other hand he holds a lit cigarette. He laughs like the devil himself as he smashes the fiery red end of his cigarette onto her tongue. It hisses like a snake as it burns through her tongue, and the smell of burning flesh joins the smell of him.

Still she sleeps on, and I wonder if she’s truly alive. Tears streak my face and I cannot stand to watch any more, yet I cannot turn away. His cigarette moves from her tongue to her face. Over and over it hisses and burns until her face is left scarred and unrecognizable.

He turns and looks at me, death gleaming in his eye. “Now her face matches mine. The daughter I could never have.”

I look away for the briefest moment and he’s lunging through the mirror. I turn to the side just in time and he sails past me like a ghost ship. I whip around and swing my cane, but he catches it in his hand and yanks me toward him. I let go of the cane, but my momentum carries me right into his arms.

He wraps me with arms of steel and I cannot move. I scream and kick but fail to connect with any force. He picks me up and drives me to the ground with such force that my ribs crack. I cannot breathe, but my cane lies at my side. I grab the cane, turn the top of the handle ninety degrees counterclockwise, and push the button on its end.

I fight through the pain and roll, whipping the air as my back meets the ground. The whip cracks the air like a clap of thunder, and blue bolts of energy light the dark room. Before the whip has a chance of retracting, he grabs it and wraps the end of it around his hand. He pulls so hard that my right shoulder rips out of its socket with a loud pop.

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