And The Hammer Came Down

The gun nearly slipped from my shaking fist. I had just killed two men tonight, and I wasn’t done.

Not until the entire twisted family payed for what went on here.

The old orphanage had seen better days, rain pissing down through the ceiling like a sieve. There were nearly as many holes in the roof as there were in the evil old bastard himself, after I cut him down with both barrels.

I watched him, his cold eyes staring up at the leaky ceiling. I almost expected the son of a bitch to come after me with that damned heavy belt buckle he used to “discipline” us poor orphans when we were “naughty”. Of course, that wasn’t his only method of “discipline”.

I fought the urge to shoot him again, just to make sure.

I heard the old man’s surviving sons upstairs getting ready to make their play. I reloaded the riot gun, wondering what Hell was going to be like for the old pervert.

Then I realized: if there was a Hell, this place was it.

I had just killed the Devil himself.

Time to go upstairs and finish the job.

View this story's 2 comments.