Daryl’s hand expanded and like a whip, he smacked Kevin across the face, sending him flailing into his closet doors. Kevin’s body shook, terror spreading on his face like butter slathered toast. His hair turned white, and Daryl couldn’t help but laugh as he began to detect urine in the air.
Daryl’s mouth opened wide, showing his large, sharp teeth, as he laughed at Kevin’s horror. His arms stretched and wrapped around Kevin’s body, squeezing, feeling his fragile body like holding a kitten. He picked him up and slammed him against the ceiling and then throwing him into the wall. Kevin wailed as he bounced off his bed and onto the floor.
The door swung open and Daryl spun his head around to see two bewildered parents, intent on checking on their precious, baby boy, lose control of their legs and collapse into heaps in the hallway.
Daryl smiled as his body turned in the same direction as his head. He hovered over to the fallen parents, his fingers elongating and sharpening to points. Kevin’s father drew himself onto his wife, staring directly into Daryl’s eyes.
“Please, don’t hurt my family! I don’t know what you are, but… Please don’t hurt them!”
Daryl extened a clawed hand to Kevin’s father’s chissled chin, gently scratching the surface, little pools of blood forming as if he cut himself shaving.
Trembling he said, “Hurt me if you want, but please don’t hurt my family!”
Daryl grabbed him by the throat and thrust his arm through the window, breaking the glass with Mr. Holler’s body. Daryl grinned as he saw and bloody glass shards protruding from the window frame, and like rubber band, the rest of his body joined Mr. Holler at the window.
“Mercy!” choked out Mr. Holler, “Please, don’t kill me!”
Daryl’s hand trembled. Mercy… He seemed to remember begging for the same thing countless times in his many beatings from Kevin. Never once had he relented; never once did he show any remorse. Why should he? He looked around the room. It seemed that Kevin and he had many of the same comic book heroes–Batman being one of them.
What would Batman do?
Daryl’s arm came back inside, his fingers becoming normal and clawless. He set Mr. Holler on the ground and gave one last look at the room. It was a mess. Understatement to be sure. Mrs. Holler was crawling towards her boy, who seemed to be catatonic. Eyes wide open, mouth closed tightly, arms and legs stiff, his body curled into the fetal position, not moving, not making a sound.
Daryl felt so ashamed. So like lighting, he bolted out the window into the darkness.