The pain was so unbearable that all Austin's attention went to his ankles, and he failed to keep the muzzle steady.
He bent down, dropping the gun, and tried to unwind the fingers. He couldn't move the scrawny finger an inch. "Aaah... Aaah..." The unbearable pain made him scream like a dog that had its tail stepped on.
The scream flipped a switch in Jesse, igniting a primal urge to protect his family. Though frozen in fear, he dropped his beer and started running to save his brother. The masked people also moved—to stop him. His frantic sprint couldn't close the distance fast enough. They stood between him and his brother. His brother's screams for help fueled his adrenaline. He punched the first masked person in his path. The force generated from his punch was enough to break a nose, confirmed by the crunching sound he heard.
"I'm here, Austin!" Jesse screamed. He would save his brother no matter what, or so he thought—until he saw dozens more of the masked figures, not counting the one whose face he had just struck. Even she stood straight, unflinching, her nose broken, yet not a sound of pain or discomfort escaped her masked mouth.
She just stood there. Her shoulders shook, and then, "Kekeke," laughter escaped from her lips. Like a contagion, every other masked person began laughing. Their laughter drowned out his brother's cries.
This didn't deter Jesse. He charged straight at them. Maybe it was foolish, but he didn't care. It was futile, though; no matter who he punched, they seemed unfazed, as if they couldn't feel pain. Despite their scrawny bodies, they hit hard—strong but unskilled. That was enough though. Soon, they had him on the ground, punching and kicking him in his gut and head. The pain made him curl into a ball.
Jesse couldn't think anymore; his head felt dizzy, his vision blurred.
"That's enough; we need him alive," a voice whispered. It carried no weight, but it reached everywhere.
With that command, no one attacked Jesse anymore. Noticing the change, he looked up at the man his brother had shot. Flesh dangled from his right cheek, exposing his cheekbone, with a bullet lodged in it, glinting. He had draped Austin over his shoulder; Austin seemed unconscious, his eyes closed, bleeding from his forehead. The pig-faced man whispered again, "Drag him," his eyes fixed on Jesse, a twisted smile on his face—even if half of it was blasted off. Jesse's vision darkened, and the last thing he saw was that smile—that hateful, hungry smile.
"Splash!" A cold sensation spread over Jesse's face. His head felt heavy and throbbed with pain. He could hear the pitter-patter of rain outside, though oddly, only through one ear. He opened his eyes slowly and saw the same men and women. Now that his adrenaline had worn off, he noticed how most of them had loose, sagging skin. But that didn't matter. They had attacked him and his family, and suddenly he remembered his brother. His eyes darted around in panic. He tried to move but realized he was tied to a chair.
"You're finally awake," something whispered. Jesse turned his head to see who it was and beheld a familiar face with a bullet no longer lodged in it.
"Why are you doing this? Where is my brother and father?" Jesse asked, his voice hoarse and labored, those questions the only thoughts in his mind.
"For the first question, I'd say you already know, somewhat," the man replied with a smirk. "But I'll explain further in due time. As for the second question—let's just say they're getting ready for a feast."
Giving Jesse no time to process, four people walked through the door into the room, which Jesse recognized as his father's, though stripped of any furniture.
Three of them he knew: his brother, still bleeding from his forehead with a gag in his mouth; the woman he had punched first; and... his father, wearing an eerie smile. They held onto his brother, dragging him toward the whispering demon in flesh.
'What the hell is happening? What is Dad doing? Did my dad plan this, some kind of sick prank? It isn't my birthday, so why, why, why?' Jesse's eyes locked onto his father, and he shouted, each word a struggle. "What are you doing? This is some twisted joke. You can't be serious!"
But deep down, Jesse knew this wasn't a prank or a dream. It was something else—something he couldn't wrap his head around.
To Jesse's shock, his father smiled lovingly and said, "This is the only way, son. The only way our family can be together and happy."
"What are you saying? We were happy!" Jesse's voice cracked with pain. What the hell was happening?.
Now they stood directly in front of Jesse. Austin looked at him, no longer struggling as he had been before; he didn't want to appear weak in front of his little brother.
"Do it," commanded the pig-faced man. They forced Austin to kneel. The woman grabbed Austin by his hair and turned him to face Jesse.
What happened next was something Jesse could never have imagined, even in his worst nightmares. The man who had raised them, the one who was supposed to protect them, drew a machete, and with a swift, clean stroke, beheaded his older son in front of the younger.
"Huh" was the only sound in the room after, mingling with the soft splatter of blood.