Mathew’s father was crazy.

Tormented by the ghost of a war that had already been won over, the old man was only an empty shell, possessed by some devil that inhabited the trenches.

Mathew’s home became a hell of yelling, violence, sleepless nights, and military blabbery.

Eventually, the boy’s mom left, without saying goodbye, nor leaving any clue of her whereabouts.

Such was the fear she felt, of being found for her husband.

And she left Mathew to his own lack of luck, to endure the hellscape of his childhood and teenage years, carrying the burden of an abusive father, who neglected his own son, and chose his past instead of a future with his own family.

Until Mathew’s father vanished.

Leaving the boy to a vague sense of emptiness and relief.

Although he would wake up every night from nightmares where his father was still around, beating him, cursing him, crushing his spirit to bits.

It was as if he never left at all.

As if he still haunted the boy somehow.

And like this, Mathew lived.

In fear, hate, anger, sorrow, and despair.

However, when he turned twenty years old, the young man received an envelope, addressed only to The Beloved Son.

The young man knew he was anything but a beloved son, so he thought it was some kind of mistake from the mailman.

It wasn’t any mistake, though. The address was his, and at the very bottom of the envelope, there was a signature.

With love from dad

J.R.

Mathew’s hands started trembling noticeably, anxiety and fear kicking in with full force. He started opening the envelope carefully, but got his thumb a papercut that started bleeding a bit more than a papercut should actually bleed.

Cursing the envelope, he took the contents from inside it. A snow white sheet of paper, and a flash drive.

Curious about its content, even though the young man knew it came from his so hated dad, he threw the little device towards the couch, unfolded the elegant paper, written in an even more elegant cursive, he started reading, the paper’s white slightly stained by Mathew’s blood.

Dear son,

I know I haven’t been around for a while

And that I haven’t been a good father to you, nor a good husband to Thea.

But all the battles, all the blood, all the madness…

For a second, Mathew felt a hint of sanity coming from the words written in that soft cursive.

It almost felt as if he was listening to his dad’s voice before he was summoned to war.

His heart ached while remembering those days, but he continued on with the reading nonetheless.

I know that I’ve been a monster to the two of you

And I hope that you can someday forgive me.

There’s something inside of me, that keeps me from choosing

That keeps me from seeing what’s best for you

And for me

There was a stain at the end of a few words, making them a bit harder to read, because they seemed a bit blurred.

Was it tears?

Was his dad, the monster that Mathew used to know, crying while writing the letter he was reading at that very moment?

But I’ll find it, my son…

I’ll find it and bury it deep into the ground

You see

I met an angel, son.

I MET AN ANGEL!!!

I’ll be able to finally restore my credibility, and to give us the family name again

You won’t have to worry about anything anymore!

I’LL BE BACK AT YOU AND THEA WITH GLORY AND... And...

And there it was…

From that part on, the words became messier and messier, making it known to the son, who was addressing him those words.

The father that he knew. Born from war and madness, from gunfire and death.

It was too much, really, to expect his dad to actually come back from the land of insanity, ready to spend all those years that Mathew could never get to live properly with him.

The rest of the letter was a confusion of scrawls, black scratches covering words, and only a few of them that Mathew could understand at all.

Becca, Restaurant, Revenge, and Death.

What a shit ton of trash. Mathew thought to himself, ready to crumple the letter and throw it in the trash can.

That was until he saw the flash drive, resting against the couch, and a thought crossed his mind.

Then he took the device, and went to his laptop.

There were a few files saved in the drive, such as a few pictures of a buck naked young woman, but not even sensual ones. It was as if the focus of the picture was only the scars on her back.

Nasty stuff. That was what Mathew thought to himself, as he noticed the depth of the scars.

And that’s when he began to question if his dad was really crazy.

Because those marks on her back didn’t look like simple scars…

They looked as if...

As if something was torn from her back.

Although she was thinly muscular, and had beautiful curves, the young man could only pay attention to the scars, something uncanny emanating from the picture.

Black hair, white skin, built up like a fighter.

Yet she couldn’t protect herself from whatever beast that could be capable of tearing her skin like that.

Come on, you’re not a writer! Why the fuck are you even building a story for someone you don’t even know?

Mathew asked himself, feeling a bit ashamed of what he just felt.

Or that’s how he started to feel, after he closed the picture, and clicked on a video icon right next to the pictures.

Black hair, white skin, built up like a fighter.

The same girl from the picture he just saw, was smashing his dad to shreds with a crowbar.

Strangely, he could fully recognize her.

The curves, the length of her hair, and even if the room was dipped in darkness, he could distinguish the black of her hair. Just as in the photograph, it was blacker than the night itself.

But there was something he wasn’t able to notice, though he knew of this something.

Mathew thought he would throw up, but then a voice told him from somewhere.

“Watch, pay attention, repeat.”

He looked around, startled by that, which resounded from nowhere and everywhere all at once, but nobody was there besides him.

However, so he did.

He listened to his dad’s screams, as he died over and over again.

Watch

He saw the way that girl swung the crowbar towards a tied, defenceless man in cold blood.

Pay attention

He noticed that his stomach wasn’t acting up anymore. And the more he watched the video, the more he saw the strange flickering of the air around the girl.

Repeat

He started to feel as if he was watching a high budget Hollywood movie, because the more he watched, the more “special effects” he perceived. Such as the thinly trembling air around the girl, the shimmering-like light that somehow emanated from her...

And also, the way her eyes changed colours as she spoke.

From red to blue, and then to black.

Mixing it all together, in a maddening dance that could only drag one to the pits of insanity.

Wasn’t it for the strange, deep rage that filled Mathew’s eyes and heart.