Subconscious Cruelty Page #2

of what I had to do...

I was beginning to get more

and more determined to do it.

I hope so... I love you.

You can die soon...

Don't leave me...

People like you always die alone.

He looks at me.

He's the only one that loves me.

He's my brother.

You're just a f***in' whore...

a f***in' slut!

It hurts.

Look in my eyes.

It's growing in a dead woman.

Never trust me.

He's a virgin.

Why are you doing this?

Over the weeks that passed,

I'd been overseeing her progression...

...my eyes never leaving

the being that I knew...

...was slowly coming

to existence within her womb.

She appreciated my care.

Even smiled once to me

and called me sweet.

Her smile was one of

unbelievable radiance.

Full of sexual promise and

genuine care all in one movement.

It makes me laugh now a little.

If only she knew...

I wonder if she'd smile...

...if she knew what I

was going to do to her.

But in any way, I was ready

and time was ticking on.

So much that it was almost time

to do my special deed.

Or should I say...

is almost time?

Grammar has never

really been my strong point.

As the time of revelation

grew nearer...

...I would continue to observe her

and tend to her every need.

My sister and her child almost

becoming iconic figures to me.

Symbols that were

made of warm flesh.

I would constantly go over the instructions

that I read on the birthing process.

Meticulously studying the old books that

were left in this house years ago...

...by some unknown

former lodger.

I only learnt from them

the most trivial minor things.

Just enough to make

her think all is well.

That she was safe in the

company of her own blood.

It makes me laugh when I think of

all the preparation I went through.

The towels, the antiseptics...

All the necessary elements

were in place to placate any fears.

I certainly know what I'm doing...

And I know what I have to do.

It's one in the morning...

and my sister screams.

Contractions are beginning,

just like they're supposed to.

She cries when I set up

in front of the bed.

Her preliminary motions

continuing over a period of time.

My sister trusts me all the way...

...giving herself completely

to my instructions.

I feel a small little tingle

in my head...

...and I envision my deed

about to be performed.

Indeed... I will create the greatest

mockery of the birthing process.

Destroy it and everything it stands for

with passion and intensity.

I will be my own god.

This thought is soothing and comforting.

It makes me confident.

Just as I begin to get lost

in my inner dialogs...

...the woman begins to push

with all her might.

Yelling and screaming as her vagina

widens to hideous extremes.

The oddity of the situation

is incredible.

She's experiencing the ultimate sex...

The climax of creation.

The child, male or female, is having

total body sex with its mother...

Penetrated into to her orifice and body

further than any penis could ever go.

She pushes once more and

the face begins to appear.

Strangely fish-like features

etched on its skull...

...seeming almost generic

and mass-produced.

No expression or emotion rages

on the child's phlegm-drenched mask.

It looks like a flesh-sculpture.

Another push and

the child's neck appears.

A sudden shudder of anticipation and

adrenalin rips through my body.

And I realize... it's almost time.

Yes... the time is near.

I powerfully rip the

baby's lower body...

...out of her impossibly

stretched orifice.

The woman's blood now flowing

along with her child's life-fluid.

It was a boy.

The woman's eyes

are so wide in shock...

...that they look like

they're about to explode.

Now... indeed, as I've

always believed...

...I know what the

true face of terror is.

Know the furthest that one

can push a human being...

...in total perversion and insanity.

That face is staring at me

right now. So I bathe it in blood.

I bleed the woman's child-corpse

on top of her face.

Her baby's fluid completely

drenching her features...

...entering her open mouth and

stinging in her eyes.

The blood trails down her throat to

meet her now noiseless screams.

Seeing as her vocal cords

have frozen in paralisis.

She makes an odd choking noise...

...and gurgles up

bubbly-crimson matter.

I continue to dangle the

newborn corpse above her face...

...like some obscene trophy.

Fascinated by the

clammy, rubbery feel...

...of the child's greyish skin.

Of the surprising amount of blood

that can be released...

...from such a small creature.

The umbilical cord dangles

like a dead snake...

...on top of the woman's

blood-soaked breasts...

...and it seems as if the woman

will probably pass out.

Maybe from pain or maybe

from terror. I don't know.

My mind becomes more and

more cloudy now.

I bite the umbilical cord

and shove it back...

...into her still heavily

bleeding vagina.

The end of the flesh-string

slightly peeking out.

It looks like she's grown

a small, bloody penis...

...the thickness of a couple straws.

It makes me laugh, I think.

I calmly place the now

exsanguinated child...

...by its mother's head

on the pillow...

...leaving mother and

child together in death.

The woman as well breathes no longer.

Maybe her heart exploded...

I kind of collapse on the blood-splattered

ground beside the bed...

...and look at the mockery

of human birth I have created.

I smile at how I was right.

What I had done was indeed

the most horrible thing...

...you could do to a human being:

Kill during the process of creation.

I am content.

The child is there for me

to see always.

A reminder of my destiny...

of my evil.

I have built a sort of altar for it

above the kitchen sink.

Wrapped its body in

pretty paper and string.

It smells and attracts

insects... pestilence.

But I find this beautiful

in its own right.

As for my sister... I am with her

every instant of my life.

Taking care of her corpse.

Dressing it, bathing it, sleeping with it.

Only once did I try

to make love to it.

And then, as I slid myself

into her putrefying cleft,

it was so cold and unpleasant.

I realized then that such an act

was never meant to be for me.

I will always be

around death, not life.

It would never work,

no matter who it was.

It would always be dead some day.

Always be dead.

C*nts, how dare you

do this to me.

It's been difficult...

...as it has been in the past, and will

always continue to be in the future.

I don't know how the world

has seeped to this...

...but I do know one thing:

That not one great act

has been accomplished...

...in this most glorious universe...

...without a fight.

When a martyr is born...

...he is not given freely

and openly support and love.

He is beaten and broken,

whipped and crucified.

Hurt because he knows the truth.

And brothers and sisters...

...today our ministry wants you

to join your hands...

...and pray for the fight.

Pray for the fight against those

who throw stones in our path.

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