The Gandervelts

July 21st 1984, Mr. Gandervelt

Tick, Tick, Tick- Tick, Tick- Tick, Tick, Tick! Mr. Gandervelt sat there in that blood red chair, with that blank-less expression plastered on his face. “Isabella! Where the hell are you? That Damn wife of mine should stay her ass home if she can’t be here on time!” In the distance his 12 year old started to cry. “Shut up! Shut up! You little good for nothing child.”
He was so drunk with rage and ferry that you could hear it pulse through his bloodless veins. Bump, Bump, Bump it echoed, swirling faster as he shot that poor child a look that could instantly silence a million rioters. Dong, Dong, Dong. “Midnight, Midnight! Ha! She’s 30 minutes late! That dirty slut is…” Child starts again. “I swear Child if you don’t shut that trap right now….I’ll.. I’ll bash your F-ing head in! That o’tta stop you.” Relief has swelled over him as he took that little bitch by the throat. Her long blond curls bounced as he lifted her in the air and shook her madly. AHHHH! Those clear blue eyes slowly rolled inside her head as she screeched…“Mommy, mommy!” “Isabella’s not here!!!!!! Isabella’s not here!” he wailed as he tossed the child to the ground and watched the warm red liquid drain from her pretty little brain as he gained his breath. Ms. Isabella Rose Gandervelt never did come home.