Chapter 22

As Ebba stared in horror at the corpses of her daughter and son-in-law, Damien didn't move an inch. He stood at the bottom of the staircase, frozen in fear. He was afraid of her reaction once she realised what he had done.

She must have sensed his presence. She turned her head to face him with a look of disbelief. Damien swallowed the lump in his throat.

"I'm so sorry." He whimpered his response.

Once his words had sunk in, rage contorted Ebba's face.

"You did it, didn't you? You killed her!" She snarled. "You're a monster!"

"Please don't call me that." Damien begged, covering his ears. He hated that word most of all. The word he had heard all his life, the word that the woman he called mother carved into his arm as a reminder of her hate.

Ebba leapt off the floor, grabbed the baseball bat from inside the closet and swung it at Damien. She would have took his head off if he hadn't ducked and swerved out of the way.

He made a beeline for the closet. He wasn't thinking about where he was going. He just knew he had to get away. Ebba would have battered him if he wasn't quick. Once he was inside, he slammed the door and locked it. He sat in the closet, in the midst of a panic attack. He shuffled away from the door and felt something touch his back. He yelped and jerked to the side once he realised he was leaning on the bodies.

A horrendous bang on the door made him jump out of his skin. Ebba was trying to bash the door in, swearing and yelling with every swing of the bat. Damien didn't want to think about what she'd do to him if she got in. But he deserved it, at least in his own mind. If she beat him, it might erase his sins.

He heard laughter mixed in with the banging. But it wasn't from Ebba. Damien lifted his head, eyes wide. No, it wasn't Ebba. It was the corpses, the vile humans whose lives he took. They were cackling at him, mocking him from beyond the grave. He felt sick. The memories of the night he stored them in there came back. He had to scrape off all their flesh, remove their organs, and dispose of it all so they wouldn't make a smell. A horrific wave of nausea hit him. He swallowed to stop the vomit from coming out. He didn't realise he was crying until he felt the wetness on his cheeks.

He shut his eyes and covered his ears. He rocked back and forth, begging for God to kill him and release him from this dreadful life. But he knew it was in vain. God would never show mercy towards the antichrist.

After a minute, the banging and laughing stopped. The air was dead silent. Damien thought it might have been over, but his nerves wouldn't allow him to check. Not yet. Instead, he crawled over to the door and pressed his ear against it. Two voices, both female, were talking to one another. One was Ebba, and, from what he could hear, the other was Claire.

"He killed my daughter!" Ebba's grief-ridden yell echoed. He shut his eyes, apologising to her again in his head.

"Ebba, please calm down." Claire said, as calm as someone could be in this situation.

"You knew!" Ebba yelled. "You knew all about this! You must have!"

Claire didn't respond. Of course she knew. She was there when the massacre happened. But she never saw Damien hide the bodies. She cleaned up the mess afterwards, but she never questioned where they both went. She must have thought Damien had buried them himself.

Why did he put them in here in the first place? He could have let her bury them like she did the others. Maybe he wanted to punish them for everything they did to him. Without a proper burial, they couldn't rest in peace. Or maybe the yearning for maternal love meant that he couldn't part with his mother, even when she was dead. He didn't give a shit about Kenta, but he always strived for his mother's affections. He didn't even know himself why he kept them around, and even went to such lengths to hide them.

"You're both sick, keeping my little girl's body as a trophy! You told me she ran away! And all this time, she was in this house that I slept in, stashed away after that little bastard murdered her!" Ebba screamed. "I'm calling the police!"

"That wouldn't be a very good idea." Claire said.

"Why wouldn't it? My daughter's been killed!"

"Yes, and you must remember what she did to him. Not to mention what she let her husband do to him." Claire's voice was cold. "You call the police, and I'll tell everyone that your precious daughter was a vicious child abuser."

Damien felt even sicker hearing this. He couldn't forget the awful things they did to him. The pain, the humiliation, the fear. He remembered it all too well. No matter how much therapy he had, no matter how much medication he took, those memories wouldn't leave his head. He despised them both, but he never wanted to kill them. It wasn't his fault, but he still felt intense guilt over their deaths.

"Fuck." Ebba muttered. She knew she had been backed into a corner. Her reputation was everything to her. It was even more important than her family, which Damien found out the hard way. If her friends knew what her daughter did to her own child, she'd never be able to show her face in public again. She could even go to prison for being an accessory to abuse.

"Fine, I won't call them." Ebba snapped. "But I'm disowning the little prick. He's your problem now."

"He's been 'my problem' from the moment he was born, and I wouldn't have it any other way."

Ebba tutted. The bat fell to the floor with a clatter. Her heels clicked away, and the front door clacked shut a few seconds later. Damien opened the door ajar and peeked out the gap. She was finally gone.

Claire stood with her back to him. He stood up and pushed the door open fully. He watched her, waiting for a response. He didn't dare open his mouth. Claire gave him such a hard glare that he shrank back, averting his eyes. He knew he had fucked up.

"Why did you keep the bodies?" Claire asked in a harsh whisper. She shook her head. "We'll bury them tonight when everyone's asleep. Make sure you stay awake."

With that, she left the landing. Damien stood there alone, wallowing in his own guilt.

☽☾

It wasn't until 10 p.m. that they were able to bury Tova and Kenta's bodies.

Claire took an old shovel from the shed and dug a hole. Five hours later, she placed the corpses in the grave and covered with it soil. It took another five hours to cover them entirely. Damien sat on the grass and watched. He couldn't bring himself to help bury them. He didn't think it was appropriate for the murderer to bury the bodies of those he killed. It made him feel like a serial killer. Ironic, given that most people thought he was a ruthless, remorseless killer. He didn't like taking lives. He had no choice but to do it. It was his "duty" as the antichrist to annihilate sinners. It didn't mean he had to like it.

"Done." Claire exhaled and wiped her forehead.

By the time she had finally finished at 7 a.m., the sun had risen. Everyone should be waking up soon. Damien kept his head down. This was all his fault, but Claire could have gotten in trouble if anyone found out. If they were arrested, he would take full responsibility for the crimes. She didn't deserve to be wrapped up in his warped revenge.

"I'm sorry." Damien muttered, hugging his knees. "I should have buried them. I don't know why I didn't."

Claire watched him for a minute. Then she sighed. "It's OK. You might have been too afraid to bury them in case someone woke up and caught you." She grabbed the shovel and went for the shed. "But it's done now. Nothing to worry about anymore."

She went back in the house. Damien decided to stay outside for a little while longer. All the stress made him exhausted. He should have gone to bed, but he found his legs wouldn't move. He stared at the grave. Guilt filled his stomach and made him feel sick.

Maybe he was a monster.

A familiar, gentle singing filled his ears, and the scent of lilac hit him. He felt a hand touch his. He smiled and closed his eyes, losing himself in the melody. Even after all this time, he still had a beautiful voice. His departed love was always with him, even in death. All Damien wanted was to be with him, the boy he loved. He had a long way to go before he could bring him back. He needed to be strong, for Daisuke.

A ghostly finger wiped away his tears. He would be with him again one day, even if he had to die himself.