Broken to Kill.

Set in a sort of medieval fantasy world. A young women is driven to near-insanity from the murder of her lover.

broken to kill.

 

“Wretch!” A voice screamed out through the angry murmur of coalesced voices.

“W***e!”

“She is unnatural! She does not belong!”

“End her! End her! End her!” A repeated chant began to overcome the crowd, until someone else yelled out, “Send her to Hell!” and the rest joined in on that as well.

Sari took a trembling step backward, pressing against the wall of someone’s house. A mob of villagers were surrounding her. Every expression seemed heinous and their words were all unfairly traducing, the crowd unyielding in its anger.

A man stepped closer to her and bent over to pick up a fist-sized rock.

“No!” A lone voice from within the group yelled out, and Sari quickly scanned the faces to pick out the source.

Robin, she thought as she recognized a young woman, no!

She couldn’t let Robin risk herself in any way whatsoever – Sari herself had already been targeted, but she wanted nothing more than the other girl’s safety.

“Stay away!” Sari yelled out, seeming to speak to the crowd but actually calling to the other girl. “Please! Please don’t come near me…”

She and Robin made eye contact and Sari shook her head softly, mouthing the words “Please protect yourself” and “I love you”.

Robin looked torn.

Sari shook her head again and looked away, tears forming in her eyes. She knew her fate.

The man who had picked up the rock hurled it at her and it collided with her flesh with a dull thud. Several of the other villagers bent down to follow suit, and Sari saw Robin attempt to dash toward her.

“No! Stay away! Stay away!” Sari screamed out again as stones began to rain down on her. “Please..” she whispered…

 

 

Robin pressed her fingers lightly to her temples, massaging them for a brief moment and then opening her eyes. Go away, she thought to the memories, get out of my mind. I’ve had enough. Still, however, the events of that day replayed over and over again; they would not cease.

She still remembered the man who had been the first to approach Sari. He had been a brute of a creature – the village butcher, as Robin had learned – with a large, tall, stocky build and russet hair covering the majority of his face. He was a hideous beast. A hideous, immoral, heartless creation.

The rest of the mob was just a blur. There was the butcher existing in fine detail in Robin’s mind, but all the other faces that had been crowded around Sari were no more than one big colorful blur of violence and anger.

Sari… Robin thought sadly to herself, my poor Sari. It wasn’t even your fault. I should have been the one slain, not you. It was my fault, not yours... I’m so sorry...

            Feeling a wave of emotion begin to wash through her body, Robin caught herself and shook it off. There was no use speaking to Sari through even her thoughts, for she knew that she would not be able to hear the other girl’s response. Sari was dead.

            Glancing at the quiet village at the bottom of the hill, Robin felt an almost predatory anger force its way into her head. Those villagers, all so peaceful now, had only days before been driven to kill a harmless young girl on the sole basis of their own irrational beliefs. Religion. The word tasted bitter on Robin’s tongue even though she did not speak it aloud. It was religion that had killed Sari. Religion had brainwashed the villagers and instilled in their naïve minds the idea that love had rules.

            Love did not have rules.

            They were wrong.

            Sari had the right to love Robin and Robin the right to love Sari; religion could not dictate otherwise because religion was not as real as love was. Robin could feel love, and so she knew it was real. She could not feel religion. No one could feel religion.

            They’re so obsessed with their heaven, Robin considered, murdering because they think they are doing good. They think that by killing off what they see as evil will earn them entrance into an afterlife of good. Well, I could do the same. They were the evil; the villagers were the sinners and the ones who deserved death. If you only think about it, the good is simply whatever – whoever – remains. If I am all that remains, then I am the good and they are the evil, because I am the only one left to hold on to the beliefs. If I am the only one left, I decide what is good and what is evil.

            A hint of a grin began to creep its way onto Robin’s lips and she stared back at the grassy land beneath her. Absentmindedly she fondled the snowy petals of a wildflower, lost in her thoughts as she stared through the plant. She could take all of the village, the innocent as well as the sinners, and destroy them. Then she, Robin, would be the good and the villagers would be the evil.

            They needed to learn that they were the evil. They had sinned, and sinners had to be punished.

            Ripping the head of the flower off, Robin focused her cool green eyes on the plant and then tossed it aside.

            Standing, she began walking down the slope toward the village, her cropped brown hair swaying gently from her step. Her gait was slow and peaceful, but her mind was the opposite. A rampant mindset was overcoming her reasoning, and everything other than her mission became vague and miniscule.

            Sari. Sari was all that had ever mattered to Robin and all that ever would. With Sari gone, Robin had lost her reason for living and along with that her fear of death.  She would not despair if her actions ended with consequence.

            Robin ventured first to the butcher’s shop, entering the village and sauntering leisurely along the small dirt pathways. Her composure was perfect, fighting herself in order to stay sedated and normal. She couldn’t lose it just yet.

            There were a few villagers out and about, and as Robin encountered them she swallowed down the violent urges and pulled a friendly smile onto her lips. Politely she would inquire as to where the butcher shop was, and the villagers, impressed with her manners and affability, willingly pointed her in the right direction.

            Evil, the girl thought silently to herself, all of them are so odious and corrupt. They deserve punishment… they will get punishment.

            Indeed, the pleasantness of the villagers was invisible to Robins’s mind; to her, they were no more than those faces that had been in the crowd. They were the angry voices barking at the frightened Sari with abusive words; they were the inhuman beasts hurling rocks at her timid body. They were sinners.

            Growling softly under her breath, Robin turned a corner and found herself seconds away from her destination. The fetid stench of rotting meat wafted from the small cracked building, and the tan door was propped open and inviting. Pausing for but a moment, Robin considered her methods and then ambled inside.

            The hairy, overweight butcher was at the counter chopping off slices of meat from the thigh of a deer, and as Robin walked in he looked up and grunted.

            Hatred began to glitter in the girl’s eyes, but she subdued it.

            “Greetings,” she chimed with an artificially cheerful smile, leaning on the counter and staring into the butcher’s muddy, bloodshot eyes.

            The man only nodded and looked at Robin expectantly, his jaw hanging somewhat open and a single brow raised in a very crass expression.

            Looking around and feigning interest, Robin decided to try to inveigle the man to get him into a disadvantageous position.

            “So how long have you had this place?” She asked.

            The butcher blinked stupidly as if confused about why she would ask such a question, but then, scratching his head, said, “Sev’ral yers. Wha’s it to ya?”

            “Oh, simply curious,” Robin answered innocently. “Do you like your work?”

            The man behind the counter shifted and looked back down at the bright red deer flank.

            “Sure,” he said, “Is good ‘nuff.”

Robin nodded slowly. “I’ve always been curious about butchering,” she commented, leaning over toward the knife he held in his hand and peering down at it. “Mind showing me how its done?”

            The man eyed Robin wearily for a second and looked about to reject her, but when the girl extracted a few coins from her pocket his attitude changed.

            “Ya jus’ chop it,” he began gruffly, cutting off another slice from the flank, “this good meat, so ya cut ‘bout a fing’r an’ a half thick. Sell it fer more tha’ way.”

            Raising her eyebrows in a way that suggested she actually cared, Robin said, “Oh? Might I try?”

            Again the butcher hesitated. Even when Robin pulled out a couple more coins he seemed unsure, but eventually the pile of silvers and bronzes grew to a size that satisfied him and with another grunt he dropped the knife on the counter.

            “Jus be car’ful,” he stated, stepping back.

            Robin nodded. “Of course.”

            Gingerly picking up the weapon, the girl felt warmth rush to her fingertips and her animosity toward the butcher and the village inflated. Nevertheless, she restrained herself and pressed the blade into the deer meat, cutting a perfect slice that fell atop the others with a sickening plop.

Smiling up at the butcher, she asked, “Like that?”

He nodded briskly and reached toward the knife with a pudgy hand, wanting the instrument back.

Instead of returning it, however, Robin pulled it closer to her and began to inspect it idly.

“What inspired you to become a butcher?” Robin purred, running a finger along the shining, bloodstained blade.

The man only shrugged.

“Perhaps you like chopping things up?” Robin prodded, “Perhaps it makes you feel powerful?” Her tone had begun to darken, her mask of innocence slowly starting to peel away. “To know that you are derailing and destroying the body of something innocent and helpless…it could indeed instill quite a sense of control.”

The butcher glanced around nervously now, having sensed the change in Robin’s tone and aura.

Robin looked at him, beginning to feel like something of a beast and staring at the butcher as a wolf would a rabbit. She was slipping away into her instincts.

“Please,” she cooed, “answer me. Do you enjoy destroying the innocent?”

The butcher stepped back and said with a frown, “Uh, hey, ya gimme me knife ba’ now.”

Robin chuckled. “Answer my question and I shall give you your blade.”

“’Course I don’!” He replied hastily, eyebrows still creased together, “I don’ hurt nothin’ that ain’ already dead!”

Robin’s smile vanished, and voices began to swirl around her head chanting lies, lies, lies. She felt dizzy.

“Liar,” she whispered to the butcher, “what about Sari?”

Realization hit the man’s face and his eyes widened, body stumbling backward into the sea of animal carcasses hanging from the ceiling. He was afraid.

Robin placed her free hand on the counter and in a flash used it to aid her in jumping onto the surface. She landed almost cat-like, one of her bare feet squishing into a slab of deer meat as she crouched down and watched the man blunder around.

“I ain’ hurt no one!” He yelled, backing up a few more steps and then turning around to run.

Lies.

 Robin leapt off of the counter and hurled herself at the man, landing on his back and wrapping one arm around his neck. He was much heavier and larger than her, however, and he managed to plow on through the swinging carcasses, pushing them aside as he headed toward the back of his shop.

“Sari,” Robin whispered again, and then she brought the hand holding the knife around to the man’s front, “this is for Sari.”

Pressing the blade against his neck, the girl heard his scream mingle with a soft cutting sound as she sliced into his flesh. Blood began to spurt from the butcher’s throat, freckling the ground and decorating the dead bodies around them. It was warm and soothing and sticky. It dribbled across her hand, and after revelling in it for a second Robin quickly released the man.

For a moment his body was still, his hands grabbing uselessly at his neck and his mouth making odd gasping noises. Then he began to sway. His body rocked to and fro, his balance soon giving out and sending him crashing to the floor into a puddle of his own, fresh blood.

Robin stood over him, staring down at his motionless form and smiling crookedly to herself. He was the most important one to extinguish, and Robin had done it. She was proud of her murder; proud of her revenge.

A second saw her watching the puddle of blood seep out from beneath him, and then the girl turned around and bolted out of the butcher shop.

Her mind was foggy and detached, all of her intelligence and reasoning dormant as she was driven on by only the intense desire to avenge. Robin flew down the street, not hesitating even a moment to slice into and stab every person she encountered.

You have sinned, she thought with each victim she mauled, you have sinned and you will be punished.

The screaming of myriad voices chorused into the air as blood decorated the dirt pathways, the village in a panic. People locked themselves in their houses, fled into the hills, or even attempted to fight back against the rampant, murderous girl.

Robin only plundered on in a blind frenzy.

Vaguely she was aware of daggers and swords clashing with the butcher knife, and somewhere in the back of her mind she knew that she had been gashed in several places, but nothing could slow her down. None of it could pull her back into reality. Robin was lost, flailing the knife around skillfully and prevailing over every one of her enemies. The bodies fell one by one, adding up and dotting the streets until no one was left outside.

The houses, a voice from inside her head hinted, they are hiding inside.

Glancing to her side at a small wooden structure, Robin’s grip tightened on her knife. A light, soothing breeze toyed with the ends of her hair and made her cold as it breathed ice into her bloodstained clothing. Powerful, she thought with a shiver, invincible. I am already the only good.

Approaching the house, she calmly walked up the steps to the front door and tried the handle. Locked. A surge of resentment rushed into her system and Robin did not hesitate in plunging the knife into the wood, causing it to splinter loudly and earning a few screams from inside.

Hacking a hole into the door, Robin reached inside and quickly unbolted the handle. A whizzing sound tickled her skin just as she withdrew her hand, but it barely registered in her mind and thus did not phase her. She only kicked the door open and stood in the entranceway.

A family was huddling in the corner of the small home; a man, a woman, and a young girl.

“Sinners,” Robin spat, stalking toward them and lifting her knife, “No-good, evil beasts. I’ll show you, I’ll –”

Her words caught in her throat and her advancement was halted as she felt a burning pain sear into her shoulder blade. Eyes widening, Robin craned her neck and saw the feathers of a fletching hovering about a foot behind her. An arrow. There was an arrow protruding from her flesh.

Looking around wildly, Robin saw a young man with a bow standing in the corner opposite the rest of the family. A trap! They had lured her into a trap! He was stringing another arrow and getting ready to release it, but before he got a chance Robin hurled the knife at him, ripped the arrow out of her back, and bolted out of the front door.

Arrow in hand, she leaped down the front steps and careened through the bloody village, passing by body after body. She had to flee. The surviving villagers would no doubt form a mob and search for her once their initial fear had dwindled.

 Robin hastened up the hillside, her tired, bloody legs propelling her farther and farther away. Tears brimmed in the corners of her eyes as her mind began to clear, and the shock of what she had just done overwhelmed her. She had slaughtered almost an entire village….

Sweat began to drench her already sordid clothes as she forced herself onward, leaving the village far behind and running until her strength gave out. Beneath a large, protective willow tree, Robin collapsed into the fresh-smelling soil and grass. She pulled her wounded arms, one hand still gripping the arrow, beneath her to rest her forehead upon, and then she coaxed her body into a pitiful ball.

With one last thought shining in the fore of her mind, Robin succumbed to the blackness of sleep, or perhaps even of death, that was calling to her.

Sari…

 

Author's Note

Please critique as thoroughly as you are willing to do. I'll return reviews and critiques. Please be honest and harsh but supportive.

Reviews

[ebur™]

Now that was bloody brilliant. I finally started reading the stories I added to my 'reading list' and I'm glad yours was on there. This story was great, original, but very sadistic and dark. I liked that part. I liked how you made the dialogue go along with the time setting (when the dialogue changed when the butcher spoke, very good use).

I also liked the whole evil scheme when she was with the butcher, I could feel the suspense and I just knew that she was going to use his own weapon against him. Even though it was predictable, it was still great to read.

Sorry that I can't give you any constructive criticism, I didn't find anything wrong!

[Corvus]

Very well written. Original, yet it reminded me of some typical ghost stories with a twist. I love how the dialogue matched the different settings, and was still a medieval-ish theme. Very good.

[-Serene Heaven-]

Very well written and great description. I could feel the helpless anger in Robin as if I were there. I can't wait to see what else you can come up with if you ever want to write something like this again. I've been thinking about writing another story of this sort myself, but I'm not so sure.

ANYWAY! Critique: Could use some more pacing work. It works too fast at some points and could use something else to make it seem a little more realistically paced. I know that she's insane, but normally if you're insane, you are more violent, and the way she killed the butcher seemed a tad tame. I guess what I just said was to add more violence. Way to go me. Ha ha. Also, you could add a bit more about Sari, and what Robin was supposed to be guilty for. It seemed to me that they were being punished for their love, but I wasn't quite sure because Robin was saying that "it wasn't your [Sari's] fault".

Keep it up, and write more great stories. Thanks for entering the contest! Could you possibly let others know about it since the deadline is Oct. 30th?

Thank you!

[WriterMe]

Wow this was brilliant. Honestly, I think this was just wonderful. It was dark, evil, suspenseful, emotional, and everything else in between. I loved the description. I loved the story line. She killed and entire village for stoning her loved one to death- just great! Haha, in a morbid, masochist kind of way.

I also like the authenticity of the whole thing. When most people say medieval, they end up adding a few non- medieval elements into their story but yours was an original. This story was strong powerful and really does go to show you the power of love and what it can do.

Harsh critique? Sorry, I cant give you any! I really liked this piece as it is. If there were any grammatical errors or typing mistakes then sorry I didn't spot any either. Haha, I am not help there.

Excellent work. Keep it up =]

---Niki