Chapter 16: Attraction
Harold's fingers trembled as he brought the object closer to the candle's flickering light. The dim glow revealed a small, tarnished ring, its surface marked with intricate engravings.
The ring was simple but carried an undeniable charm. Crafted from a smooth, unadorned metal, it glinted softly in the dim light.
The true beauty lay in the delicate butterfly design engraved into its band. The wings were etched with such meticulous detail that they almost seemed to flutter with life, each line capturing the essence of fragile elegance.
The butterfly, a symbol of transformation and resilience, added a whimsical touch to the otherwise unassuming ring. Despite its simplicity, the ring exuded a quiet grace, making it a uniquely personal and cherished piece that spoke volumes without uttering a word.
*Hahh... Hahh... Hahh...*
*Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.* Harold's heart pounded with an overwhelming rush of emotions—fear, confusion, and a deep, gnawing dread that seemed to claw at the edges of his consciousness.
The sight of this ring, tarnished and out of place, hit him like a punch to the gut, sending a chilling wave of realization crashing over him. His breath quickened, each gasp a desperate attempt to steady the storm raging inside him.
Memories and wild possibilities swirled in his mind, each one more terrifying than the last, as tears welled up in his eyes, blurring his vision.
He clutched the ring so tightly that his knuckles turned white, the cool metal biting into his palm. The walls of their small home felt like they were closing in, pressing down with an unbearable weight that threatened to crush him.
He slowly turned his eyes toward his father.
*Hahh... Hahh... Hahh...*
"Fa..the...r," he said.
But his father didn't respond to him, either he didn't hear or he chose to ignore him.
It was dark, but he could still see his father through the dim light of the candle.
His father was busy in his own world, devouring the meat like crazy with a satisfying and happy smile on his corpse-like face.
This made Harold's emotions run even more wildly. He couldn't control himself. Taken over by his raging emotions, he threw the plate on the floor with all the force he could muster.
With a sharp *CRASH*, the plate shattered as it hit the floor, sending fragments skittering across the room. The sound reverberated through the quiet house, a sudden, jarring disruption.
This sudden outburst made his father snap out of his trance.
"Oh... Harold, what happened? Do you want more?" Hary looked at his son with a knowing smile.
"Forget that, I want to know where is Mother?"
Hary ignored his question and started to pour meat and soup into the next plate. "How much do you want, Son?"
Harold directly snatched that plate and threw it away again.
"Where... is... my... mother?!!!"
Hary still didn't mind it. His eyes slowly turned up and looked at his son, his face still occupied by a wide, satisfied smile.
His vision was weak, but he still managed to notice the ring gripped in his son's right hand.
"Sigh... looks like the thing I feared would happen, unfortunately happened," Hary let out a long and deep sigh.
"Huh... What!!" Harold's heart began to beat faster and louder, like it would break out of his rib cage.
"You know, I was too late to notice it, but when I did, I couldn't do anything about it. I couldn't just throw it away."
"What do you mean?" Harold felt like the whole world was breaking.
The tension in the room was palpable, the air thick with unspoken fears and unanswered questions. Harold's eyes welled up with tears, but he knew better than to press further. He lowered his gaze to the plate, the once joyous feast now a source of torment.
As the night wore on, the candle's flame slowly dimmed, casting long, eerie shadows on the walls. Harold stood there, clutching the ring tightly in his hand, his mind haunted by the dark possibilities that loomed in the shadows.
The smile on Hary's face became even wider. "My son, you are too naive. What if it is the flesh of my wife?"
"It's still meat. It's still food."
"It is tasty and delicious, even more than the normal one, wasn't it?"
"You monster," Harold couldn't control his rage any longer. The chain that had been holding him back broke abruptly with the sudden outburst of his raging emotions.
His hand moved on its own, grabbing the sharp bone he had taken from the forest, and he thrust it directly into his father's neck.
Harold's breath came in ragged gasps as he stared at his father's lifeless body, the sharp bone still embedded in Hary's neck.
Blood pooled around the wound, staining the floor in a dark, spreading circle. The once joyous meal now felt like a distant, twisted memory.
Harold's hands trembled, his mind reeling from the shock of his actions. He had acted on pure instinct, driven by the unbearable weight of his emotions.
Now, as the reality of what he had done settled in, a profound sense of loss and horror overwhelmed him.
He stumbled backward, collapsing to the floor as his legs gave out beneath him. The room seemed to spin around him, the shadows cast by the dim candlelight dancing like specters in his vision.
He couldn't help but recall the last moments of his father.
His father didn't dodge the attack or he just couldn't. Even when the bone was stabbed in his neck, he didn't let out any painful scream or cry. His expression was still the same, a wide, satisfying smile in a corpse-like face, which felt rather creepy.
In his last breath, only two piece of words came out of his mouth, "Survive, Son".
His last words made him feel even more guilt.
Harold clutched his mother's ring tightly, the cool metal grounding him in the midst of his turmoil.
As his eyes were staring at the the dead corpse of his father, a strange anomaly happened. He felt like if, like if his body was being strongly attracted to the corpse.