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Splice Scott

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The amount of dread and pain in the air was enough to make anyone sad, but the only person who seemed to be sad was Scott. As he did the dishes he heard his foster mother, Emily, walk out of that soundproof room she had built a few years ago when she had become a doctor. With her was a patient who had come in earlier who now had a cast on his leg, which earlier had a giant branch sticking out of it. He was a hiker who got injured on a hike with his friends. The nearest town was at least forty minutes away and his foster mother was the only person with medical training in those forty minutes. They lived isolated in the middle of the woods but luckily they were close. His friends who were in our living room sighed in relief when they saw their friend was alright. However, she had to ruin their moment of relief by telling them they had to pay her. They were taken back by this, but they paid her. Scott was watching them the whole time and when his mother turned to him he quickly tried to make it seem as if he had not been listening.

Of course it did not work, and his foster mother walked over to him and said, “Look at me!”

He had no choice and looked at her in the eyes and could only watch as she lifted her hand and slapped hard as her palm jolted his right cheek bone. He fell to the ground with a thud and she yelled, “I told you not to eavesdrop on conversations!” She continued to yell at him.

“But mom,” he screamed, trying to stop the beating and plead for her to stop as he was cut off by another hard slap to his face.

He recovered quickly and yelled, “I'm sixteen and I should be able to have rights, mom!”

She replied by slapping him once again, “As long as you're living in my house, you will obey my rules! I'm starting to see why your parents abandoned you in the first place.”

He was shocked by that response and a wave of anger washed over him, “My parents did not-”

He was interrupted by one last slap to the face. “You talk too much,” she growled at him and began to walk back to her medical room, but paused and looked back at him and said, “And don’t call me mom, I'm just the woman who took you in.” And with that, she left him alone on the kitchen floor.

He started to cry and ran down the stairs into the basement to his room and slammed the door shut, still crying. As he sat back against the door, he looked at his room and all there was was a bed, a dresser and a few of his belongings. He looked into a mirror which was one of his few belongings and saw himself; his very dark brown hair was clean and combed, and looked at his black shirt and blue jeans.

He suddenly heard laughter, he always was good at hearing things and he didn’t even have to place his ear against the door this time. His three foster sisters were laughing as they always did. They were all seventeen years old, a year older than Scott. At first he wasn’t sure what they were laughing about, but was overcome with sadness and anger as he heard their conversation.

“Did you hear mom upstairs?” his first foster sister Maddy said in a mocking voice.

“Yeah, she made Scott cry real good, maybe she even made him wet his pants,” he heard his second sister Tina reply.

“Honestly, sometimes I think the only reason mom adopted him was to push him around,” he heard his last sister Megan laugh more, going on about how mom pushed him around, yelled at him, and hurt him. His mom was actually not the worst girl in the house, all his sisters were little devils and they each had hurt him more than his foster mother did. Tina had once stabbed him with a needle when he was barely five, and he remembered his mother and sisters being proud of her. Maddy and Megan had once had their dog Damien attack him, making it look like an accident. They also said the same thing that his foster mom always told him, that he talked too much when all he did was try to talk back to them. Mom loved the girls but not him. The worst thing they had ever done was rip up the only nice outfit he had.

He got up, no longer wanting to listen to their conversation, and looked in his dresser where the outfit lay folded. It was a brown leather jacket, boots, dark gray pants and a plain, dark gray, long sleeve shirt all torn up. He sat on the floor after what seemed like an hour when Megan opened his door, carrying a plate of spaghetti.

“Dinner time,” she said obnoxiously.

He expected her to call him a name or tease but she didn’t, so he simply said, “Thanks.” He then moved to try to get the plate, but as soon as he made a move she held the plate over her head and poured the spaghetti on herself. She then stomped hard on her own foot which gave her the ability to cry. She then yelled for Scott's foster mom, and in no longer than ten seconds she was in the doorway to his room. When she saw Megan, her eyes fell on Scott, full of anger.

“How could you do this to your sister?!” she screamed.

“But mom,” he started to say, but was interrupted by her hand slapping his face.

“I said don’t call me that,” she then looked at Megan and said in a calm voice, “What happened?”

“I just came down to give Scott his dinner, and then he took the plate from me and dumped it on my head and then stomped on my foot," she said as she faked the tears. He tried to say she was lying but she silenced him with a glare, expecting to get slapped, but instead felt immense pain as she took the plate and smashed it over the right side of his face. He fell down with both hands covering his face as he cried out in pain.

She yelled, “No dinner for you tonight since you seem to not want it.” And with that, Megan walked out. Before they disappeared, Megan flashed a wide smile at him.

Scott spent the rest of the night pulling shards of glass out of his face. A large portion of the right side of his face had been deeply cut. He was only able to stop it from bleeding when his foster mother brought down some alcohol, tissue and some bandages, and left him to take care of it himself. He poured the alcohol on the tissue and rubbed it over his face, it stung bad making his eyes have tears in them. Once he was done he bandaged his face.

The only good thing that ever came from eavesdropping on his mother was he knew all sorts of skills and knowledge from when she went to medical school. It was late so he went to bed. He woke up late the next day and hesitated to get up before he saw the clock. It was 11:23, his sisters would already be at school, and his mother would be at the hospital in town. He didn’t go to school because his mother never allowed it. She always said he didn’t deserve to go, but with them gone there was more than enough reason for him to get up and go upstairs.

He made some breakfast and sat down on the couch in the living room and watched some TV. After he finished his breakfast he continued to watch TV, but nothing was on and he finally gave up after ten minutes. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was different, he went into the bathroom to look in the mirror and remove the bandages on his face, and was horrified. He looked at his face carefully. A large portion of the right side of his face was completely covered by scars. He felt like he was gonna cry at the sight of his face, but something made him stop in his reflection.

He saw his foster mother and sisters Maddy, Tina, and Megan all laughing at him. He looked at the mirror thinking it was just his imagination, he shut his eyes and then opened them but they were still there. He wasn’t sure what to think and was horrified to see that they came out of the mirror and surrounded him and forced him to the ground, and every time he tried to get up they just forced him down again. They were all mocking him and teasing him and saying the same thing over and over again, “You talk too much, you talk too much.”

Scott screamed, kicked, flailed, and scratched trying to escape the grip they had on him. He begged them to let him go, but they just kept saying the same thing. He shut his eyes as tight as he could, hoping that their voices would leave his head and they would stop. He didn’t hear them go away, he didn’t hear them go back into the mirror, they just stopped. He opened his eyes and found they were gone, relieved, he got up and said, “It must have all just been a hallucination,” and looked back into the mirror at himself.

He looked at the tears streaming down his cheeks, shivering in fear, but most of all he felt pain in the cuts on the right side of his face. He had a sudden feeling come over him as he looked at what he was. Look at me, he thought, I'm a coward. As he continued looking at himself, he began to clench his fists. I'm nothing, he thought. He was no longer crying he was no longer shivering in fear, but now the feeling that had come over him grew stronger.

His eyes were no longer fearful, he still felt pain but he didn’t show any emotion at all. Suddenly, he burst out laughing, and laughed so hard that he was having trouble breathing but he didn’t care. He walked out of the bathroom and went downstairs to his room, found the outfit exactly how he had left it the night before, and put it on. It was surprisingly comfortable considering it was all torn up, but he didn’t care. He went back upstairs and looked through the cupboards until he pulled out what he was looking for, his foster mom’s stapler.

He took it upstairs with him back to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. “You talk too much, you talk too much,” played over and over again in his mind.

He gave a slight smile. “I talk too much, do I?” he said to the voices he heard in his head, "I can fix that without saying another word." Scott took the stapler and began stapling his mouth over and over, up and down. His mouth began bleeding and he felt intense pain but he didn’t show pain. He didn’t show any emotion at all.

He looked at himself and his mouth was stapled shut, but he quickly realized his mouth could still move. He had failed to staple his mouth shut and his eyes were watering from the pain. He tried to get them to stop but it was hopeless. His thoughts were soon interrupted by a scream. He looked to the doorway and saw his foster mother standing there, she must have come home for something. She looked terrified which gave Scott a sudden sense of joy.

"Mommy," he said calmly, "Why do you look so scared?"

“Sc- Scott what have you done?”

The calmness in Scott's tone was gone and replaced by anger, “What you wanted; you said I talked too much, so I tried to fulfill your wish for me, and look what you made me do.” He expected his foster mother to be frightened, but she took up her fist and swung it straight into his face. He fell to the floor, felt her grab him by his shirt collar and punch him again, this time blacking out.

Scott woke up in his foster mother’s soundproof medical room. He tried to sit up but saw that his arms and legs were restrained. He tried to force his way out of his bonds but was unsuccessful. He turned his head and saw his foster mother looking down on him. She said, “You have become a burden for this family, Scott! Why did you try to staple your mouth? Why are you wearing those torn up clothes? Those are questions I would have liked to ask, but I will not ask an insane person.

“Goodbye Scott,” she said as he looked to her hand and saw that she was carrying a syringe full of yellow liquid. He had seen that liquid before, she had once used it to euthanize a patient who had no chance of living.

Scott didn’t say a word about what he knew his foster mother was going to do to him. He felt that feeling again and realized how much he hated his foster mother. That hate gave him new energy, he fought furiously against his bonds and broke through. He grabbed the arm of his foster mother that held the syringe and forced it into her shoulder. She screamed in pain and backed away from Scott. He got out of the straps and slowly walked over to her and ripped the syringe out of her shoulder. She screamed, only to start gagging as he shoved the syringe down her throat.

"You talk too much, mother."

She choked and coughed as he violently shoved it deeper and deeper down her throat, until it became visible as it sliced through the bottom of her neck. At that moment she stopped breathing altogether, but he pulled the syringe out and placed his hands on the bottom of her head, broke her neck and rested his foot on her shoulder and began to pull with all his might again, again, and again until he finally tore her head right off her body. Blood spilling from the hole of where the head used to be, making a big pool of blood around her. Scott dropped the head and looked at his foster mother’s corpse. He felt extreme happiness staring at her body but did not show emotion and chuckled emotionlessly, only to have his mouth and lips bleed violently from the staples, but he did not acknowledge the pain. His eyes began to have more tears, he tried to stop, but he couldn’t and then looked at her corpse. He had an idea.

He looked down at his mother's body and saw she was wearing her dark green dress. He tore off a long piece that wasn’t soaked with blood, wrapped it around his eyes and the tears stopped. He wiped the blood off his bleeding mouth, and the fabric of the dress was over his eyes and allowed him to see only the faint outline of things but he didn’t care. He didn’t need his sight to kill. Killing his foster mother wasn’t the only one he planned to kill, he knew he would never be truly happy if his sisters were alive.

He proceeded to walk to the door, but through the fabric he saw the outline of the box where his foster mother kept all her medical supplies. He opened it and couldn’t tell what most of it was. He felt the supplies and most of it was medicine, but he felt the sharp tips of more syringes. He piled them all in the pockets of his torn-up leather jacket and also found a sedative that, if injected into a person, would completely paralyze them, and he took those as well. He didn’t need to press his ear against the door to hear the three little devils laughing, mommy had obviously told them about his soon to come death. He slightly smiled before opening the door and he slowly walked to the end of the hallway where his sisters would be. He heard them gasp in shock when they saw him, the boy they had teased, mocked, and bullied for so long was now wearing the outfit they ruined, wearing a piece of their mother's dress as a blindfold ready to kill for a second time.

He heard one of their footsteps and then charged and knocked her to the ground, stabbing her in the shoulder with the same syringe he used to kill mommy. She screamed, and Scott recognized the voice as Megan's, but before he could stab her in the chest, he heard footsteps coming toward him and backed away. He then heard a swing from where he used to be and through the fabric of his blindfold saw the faint image of Maddy. She held a knife and tried to stab him, but he was fast and grabbed her wrist and stabbed her in the stomach and sliced up to her neck as she gurgled.

“You talk too much, sister.”

She fell silent. He turned his head back toward Megan who was still struggling to get up, and before she could, he stomped hard on her back and then her head. He grabbed her head and she begged for mercy, but he ignored her pleas and snapped her neck. Using all his strength, he twisted her head and heard a crack. Not able to tell what he was seeing, he felt the back of her head and instead felt a nose and a mouth. He stood up. “You talk too much,” his tone emotionless, and he listened closely. He still had one more girl to kill, Tina.

He walked slowly listening for the faintest noise of a living thing and then he thought he heard muttering downstairs. He slowly walked down the steps and onto the floor. "Come out come out wherever you are,” he said in a calm voice and his mouth bled more the second he moved it, but he ignored the pain and continued listening. He heard a faint breathing noise coming from his left, turned his head in that direction and saw the outline of a closet door through his blindfold.

“Come on sis, I just want to talk to you,” he said again, mouth and lips bleeding and tears of pain appearing in his covered eyes. He didn’t dare show the slightest bit of emotion. He walked quietly toward the closet, trying to make as little sound as possible. He listened for Tina’s voice and heard her breathe, then pulled the door open and heard her scream. “I found you,” he said in the loud but still deathly calm tone, and then stabbed her in the leg.

He let her fall to the floor and soon he was on top of her, she screamed in fear. “You talk too much,” he said and he stabbed her all over her body again and again. He felt blood shoot out of her and onto his torn-up clothing until he could feel nothing but the skin of his now dead foster sister. Warm from her blood, even though he couldn’t see her, he knew exactly what she looked like. He imagined her pried open with holes from his syringe and sliced up, he couldn’t think of a word that could describe those two images mixed together until he thought of one word, “spliced.” He smiled slightly at his own word before returning to normal when he heard the ringtone of Tina’s phone. He went in the closet and walked over to where he heard it, picked it up and looked closely through his blindfold at the number that appeared on the phone's screen. It didn’t take him long to figure out what the three numbers on the phone were.

Scott had piled up all the bodies of his foster family in the fireplace and had no trouble cramming the bodies in. They were now like sardines crammed in a small space, and he then lit a match and threw it on the “human” logs in the fireplace. He felt the heat of the fire as it burned the clothes and then the bodies of his foster family, for once in Scott's entire life he felt happy. Scott then ran out the backdoor of the house in the direction of the town as he heard the sirens of police cars in the distance.

He ran as hard as he could until he reached the first building which was in a neighborhood not too far away. He turned his head at the faint images of the houses and got a sense of the feeling that he felt as he killed his sisters and mother. He walked down the sidewalk of the neighborhood for a long time and didn’t feel happy anymore for some reason. He tried to think of “why” but he just couldn’t put his finger on it. He didn’t have the time to, as he heard a car coming his direction and he ran straight for the cover of the shadows of a house. He didn’t bother getting up even after the car passed. He did not see the point, hours passed as Scott sat in the same exact spot. He reached inside the pocket of his jacket and pulled out the syringe that he used to kill the people he hated and saw his reflection in the glass part of the syringe. After seeing himself he let out a quiet, but no longer calm chuckle. His tone was now just plain blank as he chuckled until he heard the distant sound of someone talking.

He stood up and followed the voice to another house and turned his head upward toward the window where the voice had been heard, and discovered it belonged to a teenage girl. He saw light coming through the window through his blindfold which soon after shut off and he heard what sounded like the girl getting in bed. He felt a sparkle of joy ignite in his head as the feeling came back, but now he knew what the feeling was. It was happiness and he knew why it came back. It was the familiar sound of a girl the same age of his sisters. The girl slept peacefully in her dark room, but she didn’t notice the small opening of her door. She was seventeen years old, a senior in high school. To Scott, she closely resembled Maddy, with tan skin and light brown hair.

She didn’t wake up until she felt the pain of a needle go into her arm, injecting the paralyzing sedative into her and the first thing she saw was the Scott standing by her bed as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. She saw his clean, combed-over, dark brown hair, his face with cuts on a large portion of the right side, and a dark green blindfold. The most terrifying thing was his mouth and the staples that made his mouth bleed every time he moved his lips. She tried to move but her entire body was numb. She tried to scream but couldn’t even open her mouth, all she could do was watch as Scott held up the syringe. Scott felt the feeling of happiness and satisfaction grow as he deeply cut her on the arms and legs until he could feel the deep lines form a straight line across her arms and legs. He turned his head to the girl, trying to make eye contact with her through his blindfold.

“You remind me of my siblings,” he told her in a calm, quiet manner. “I hated my siblings,” his tone shifted from calm to emotionless, “But killing you is like killing them and it makes me happy.” He heard faint murmurs from her and with an even more calm tone told her, “You talk too much,” and without saying another word he slowly twisted the syringe into her neck. The paralyzing sedative he had injected into her was wearing off, but she couldn’t scream.

By the time it passed through her system, she was already dead. Scott just stood there showing no recognizable emotion. He knew she was going to be the first of many victims, and his mouth formed a bright emotionless smile while pain pierced his mouth. He ignored the pain because he was happy and now knew how to keep the feeling around.

“We have breaking news,” the reporter on the TV said. “Late last night, high school senior, Alison Lopez was found stabbed to death on her bed. Her parents were at first suspected of committing this murder, but evidence confirms that her parents were not at home when she died.

"In other news, the police have pulled up a main suspect, a sixteen-year-old boy named Scott, who gruesomely murdered his foster family. When the police got to his house, he was gone. They have not released the last name of the suspect, but they said they will as soon as they can.

”Alison’s body wasn’t the only thing the police found. On the bed they also found a note, well... a message carved into Alison’s face. This message gave the police the identity of the suspect even though it said only two words," said the reporter. “We advise you, the following pictures are disturbing,” the reporter said as the TV screen was filled up with pictures of the carved message. The man watching then realized it wasn’t two words; it was in fact a name carved into the face of Alison which read, “Splice Scott.”

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