Thomas had never felt so alive. The crackles of the fire and the putrid smell of burning filled him with a sense of power.
He was giddy with excitement as the word was consumed and made prominent in the night by the thick orange flames that licked the air with their long, hot tongues. Thomas stared in extreme wonderment as his plan came to life.
It had only been a plan before. But now, as the flames devoured and consumed, Thomas knew that his plan was going to play out in delectable perfection. He knew that ultimately Andrew would pay for his sins and he would do so by dying a long and excruciatingly painful death.
As soon as the word upon the barn wall was completely lit, and burning bright, Thomas gripped the hatchet, that’s tip gleamed in the moonlight, up from the grass that was beginning to become wet with dew. He shoved the gleaming metal into the flames, while being careful not to burn the wood stock, and let it become red hot.
When the metal was surely a hotter than hell, Thomas stepped from the flames and strode to the back door of the cabin. He used his leg, and kicked as hard as he could, to knock the door open. The door crashed open easily, but Thomas knew that his leg would be sore the next day.
Thomas held the hatchet out in a defensive position, ready to chop away at anyone who tried to block his way. He couldn’t afford to let anyone stop him. His plan was so well thought out, and needed to be executed with precision, and if anyone got in his way, they might mess the whole thing up.
As Thomas walked through the house, he wondered where Andrew would be. There were only five rooms in the cabin. Thomas knew he would find out soon enough. He knew that Anne had probably locked a door to keep Andrew safe, now that she possibly knew he was here.
So Thomas searched for a door that was closed and locked. When he found it, he crashed through, easily. Thomas was reminded of the night two years ago when he had come in and grabbed Andrew from bed. Everything from this scene was familiar. Except, Andrew was older.
Andrew was sitting up in bed, eyes wide and alert. Guess he decided he wasn’t safe. Thomas lunged at Andrew and gripped his head. “Don’t think you are getting away from me.” Andrew thrashed trying to get away. He through his fists into Thomas’ ribs.
“Get off me!” Andrew said, his voice weak. “Why are you—” Andrew’s voice fell silent. Thomas had taken his fist and punched Andrew in this forehead. His fist stung a bit, but it was a minor problem.
“Come on. We are going to prepare you for your death!” Thomas said menacingly. Thomas picked Andrew up, and ran through the house, directly to his vehicle.
“No one will ever find you, and even if they do, you will be dead.”