The Room. II

"Where's mommy?"

The voice should have been angelic, several octaves higher than the sound that emanated from the child's mouth, my child, my son.

Oh how we used to play in this very room; singing, dancing on the bed, and building train tracks until the sunset. Those days were long gone, and so is the boy I knew.

He now stood before the sash window, a streak of dim amber from the street lamp outside, escaped the slit in the cartooned curtains, illuminating his face.

The chill from the early frost, had permeated my bones, and now the vision standing before me, cut deep like a shard of ice.

His sweet, round, sunshine filled face was now gaunt and ashen. His cheekbones highlighted by the amber glare. His strawberry blonde hair was long and unkempt, but it was the eyes; they were no longer his. Two orbs of black hatred, looked out, where once there was oceans of blue.

"She's not here, Jacob. What have you done?"

I asked the question, but I already knew the reply.

*ive just noticed this is my 666 post. Spooky!