The Locket

When you get the urge to kill someone, you don't plan for it. You just jump, you don't look for difficulties, and ramifications are the least of your troubles. Not twisted, rather a magnification of any driven desire, good or bad, you do feel like you're behind the eight ball. If not done, it never actually passes into nothingness. It just sits there, caressing your wild, probably polite at the time, imagination. Building bridges and arsenals, dicing with unicorns and fairies, putting and end to calamities for the fun of it and that's not all. He thinks too much when he's in the mood unlike the average 20-years-old guy. That very day, the pattern was heading the same way. He was not in the mood, and yet managed to go against it. Revenge does that, hell, it goes beyond that. "My life's not ruined .. yet.", he thought. "It could be considerably OK compared to other lives, if only I could ruin theirs even more.", thought aloud while looking through his window. Pretty much what he LOVED to do when distracted, talking to his alter-ego. The reason was, how on earth could he consider such  fatal tendencies in so short time.

What a gem I had, and what a gem I lost., exactly what jumped to his mind instantly.
He wasn't younger when he lost them, not just a family, a whole life, an affair. It might be supposed that a catastrophe such as he just have had would have slain his incipient passion for life. On the contrary, he never experienced a more ardent longing for life, once he based it all on getting back at the ones who crushed his glowing vision for life. "I need to plan for something on the spot, right this second.", he thought. But that thought was soon interrupted by his phone, followed by his machine, "Hey, Mr. Sanders. You missed your appointment again this Wednesday. Can you get back to us on whether or not, you're going through with your sessions?! Thank you."

Unaware of what just took place, he snapped out as if he realized that this oblong metal object he's been gazing at, contains his cold beer. He walked to the referigerator , snatched his can and gulped it down with relish, as though quenching a flame in his breast.

But the bloodthirsty mourning man in him was in an utter separate daze from any other metabolic or circulatory system.

He was thinking while walking down the few stairs, "Should I take the car or not?'. "Should I buy my own knife, or search for one at that family's house?"

He's at back the door. And as the door squeaks opening, his feelings rushes out of their box, but evaporate at once. Instead, he kept that little composure he's got and hastily plan the unplanned as if he's intending on taking them all for a stroll. "How did you get in .." The husband didn't finish that. He actually got distracted with the blood fountain out of his carotid. The little boy came running," Daddy!" But the plastic bag cut off the air supply enough to say no more with his eyes set upon his dad's obscene sight.

"I'm not wiping away the blood on my knife.", he said decisively, "She needs to know I killed them both.". "I only wish she could give my mother's locket, she stole, back to me."

He looked and looked till he found her in the bathroom. "Of course, she is. Trying to wash the guilt away, the debris of her own barbarian scenery she painted with my family's blood."

His thoughts vigorously rushed into his head. "The Coroner told me, whoever killed my mother, snatched   her locket causing the antemortem injury."

He approached the door with extremely fiery eyes. While she was getting ready, he urged upon himself the excellency of the opportunity offered for indulging his desire to kill.

He swore he'd mutilate and torture her helpless body right before he finished what came for. All she kept saying was, "No, no please no, it was not me I swear please no." But nothing's coming between his inner blood-lust and her death just now. And it was quit all of a sudden. Roaming hopelessly to find the locket, the one with a picture of the three of them inside, he found nothing. Drained and lethargic he maneuvered his way home. After taking a shower and doing his best to erase his traces away, he headed to the closet to find himself another clean pair of shoes. He unintentionally looked up at something shiny that caught his eye. In an attempt to recognize the touch and the look of it, he quickly remembered. It was his Mom's Locket, with her flesh embedded in between the little rings of the chain.