Eeeeeevil... Just Eeeeeeevil... Pinkie to mouth

On the fly - story about evil... Slithering, insiduous evil.

I'm at work, so forgive any errors. Again, as I've said before, I don't plan On the Fly work out. I just write and let whatever wants to come out - out. Like an exorcism.

It Wasn't Me
By Lady M

I'd been saying it all morning and I don't know why one more time would be the one that broke the camel's back... it just did.

"Taylor, maybe you should just quiet down and let Mommy work." I said for about the fifteenth time.

"Bang! I got you Mommy!" He pointed his gun at me again and ran around me in a screaming rendition of cowboys and indians. "Bang! Bang! Bang!"

"Taylor honey, could you please take your gun and go into the playroom? Mommy really has to finish writing this contract." I rubbed my bleary eyes, trying to make them uncross.

"No." It sounded like he had spit it out.

I stopped rubbing my eyes and turned to look at my son. He'd never said the word "no" so vehemently before and I was in no mood to put up with it this time.

"Taylor Jacob Anderson!" I admonished him.

"I said No!" His voice roise and his little face turned fire engine red.

"I told you to go into the other room. Now march mister before I give you a reason to be sorry." It usually worked, the small threats. I never spanked him, but he was terrified of them, so usually it worked. I pointed my finger in the direction of his play room where every toy ever made by mankind was scattered all over the floor.

I glanced up at the clock and noticed it was almost ten o'clock in the morning. Another half an hour and the babysitter would show up, relieving me of my parental duties so I could rush off to the noon meeting with all of the bigwigs I had prepared the presentation for.

It had to be perfect - the presentation... It just had to be. The art on the portfolio would either make or break my career today. The cars depicted on the first drawing would hopefully bring me and my family a hundred grand of much needed money. I had gone into debt just keeping my art skills up and learning to write contracts. I had freelanced long enough and now I needed to get noticed or quit and find a decent day job. We were down to our last few hundred in the bank, so this was make it or break it time.

Taylor stood there glaring at me and my pointing finger. Not moving, not budging.

"I said move it Taylor, right this instant, I'm not kidding."

"I hate you!" He screamed at me, anger and ferocity etched in his face, his little green eyes bulging.

I sat back as his tirade freaked me out for a second. What the hell was going on with my perfect angel son?

I wasn't prepared when he leapt onto me, kicking and biting. His teeth found purchase on my cheek, ripping into the flesh. For a moment, I just sat there, dazed and a little confused and then I grabbed his shoulders and pushed him away from me. Bad mistake, I suppose now, but at the time it wasn't a concious thought, it was a reaction.

His mouth came away from my face, with a chunk of flesh in it. I could feel the warmth of the blood dripping down my jawline and down my neck. It splattered onto the floor.

Time stood still as I watched my son carefully and purposefully chew on my skin between his teeth. He was enjoying the taste of my meat.

Dazed, I reached over and slapped him across the face, dislodging the contents of his mouth onto the floor. I held my hand to my cheek and realized that I now had a chunk missing and that piece now lay quivering right there in front of me on the dirty floor.

Shock made me sit back down and kept me holding on to my cheek to keep the blood from oozing out in gushes of vibrant red.

I stared at my son trying to make sense of what had just happened. All thoughts of the meeting far from my mind.

He stood there, his fists clenching and unclenching, his eyes swirling in chaos and his jaw tight. His eyes narrowed and for a moment I feared another attack, I jerked backwards in fright.

That was a mistake, his eyes narrowed and his mouth turned upwards in a satisfied smile.

"What the hell did you just do that for?" I tried to keep my voice calm, trying to sort this all out as blood slid through my fingers.

"Because I hate you Mommy. I want to see you bleed and die." He said calmly, watching me for a reaction.

My five year old was telling me he wanted me to die! What the fuck was going on?

Before I could think of what I was going to do to staunch the blood flow or how I was going to handle Taylor - he closed the distance and grabbed my hair, tearing out a chunk of it, as I stood and yanked my head away.

He kept coming at me, swinging his hands like claws. He was chomping his mouth, the sound of his teeth clacking as he tried to bite down on my arm or my side, it didn't matter where his teeth found purchase, he just wanted them to close down on my body, anywhere.

I backed up towards the hallway trying to stay out of his reach. Panicked, I tried to think of where to go.

The downstairs bathroom! If I could get to the bathroom, I would be able to lock the doors and crawl out the window. Then I could get help. First for my son and then for my bleeding face.

"Don't move Mommy, I'm going to get you," he growled in a low rumbling voice.

At the top of the stairs, ready to take the first step, he jumped onto my back, taking a chunk of my hair in his hands - he slammed his teeth down onto my shoulder and bit all the way through.

I slammed my body backwards against the wall, blood started oozing down my arm and back and another chunk of flesh was missing from my body.

I'm not sure exactly what happened then. It's kind of hazy. The next thing I know, we were both lying on the floor at the bottom of the stairs. I scrambled to my feet and the blood flowed down into a pool at my feet.

Taylor was lying there, not moving. His head and neck were bent at an impossible angle. I could see him still breathing, but his body wasn't trying to get up. My son was laying there and I was terrified to go and make sure he was going to be all right.

I knelt next to him and I didn't know what to do. A wave of hopelessness washed over me. I reached down to see if there was anything I could feel that was broken.

"Taylor. Oh my god Taylor. What just happened?" I was afraid to pick him up or touch him, I worried that I might damage or kill him.

I looked into his eyes and noted they were clear and not hazed over, he smiled up at me. I looked at his neck, obviously angled in a way that necks were never meant to be angled.

"Mommy," he said, trying to get my attention that was diverted to his neck.

"Hold on Taylor, I'm going to get you to the doctor." I pleaded with god, with the devil, anything to make my baby come back to me. It was hopeless and I knew it, but I still wanted him to be fine.

"Mommy..." He said again, making sure I was looking into his eyes. "I love you Mommy."

"Oh god, Taylor, I love you too, honey, everything is going to be ok." I desperately looked for anything that would help, I stood up to go grab the phone and dial 9-1-1. "Just hold on baby."

His nails clutched my pantleg and pulled me down to him. I knew it was useless to try and save him, his breathing was already becoming ragged and red frothy foam was coming out of his nose.

"Mommy, it wasn't me." That was all he said.

The light dimmed out of his eyes and I knew right then that he was gone. There was nothing I could do to bring him back. I grabbed his lifeless body and pressed him close to me, covering him in kisses.

"It wasn't me," echoed through my mind as we waited for someone to find us.