“Oh now, Harry, it isn’t that bad.”
“Not that bad? Martha, that… that thing killed someone!”
“That ‘thing’ is your son, Harry, your son!”
“It is no son of mine. We should get rid of it; give it to the authorities.”
“Him. Harry, him. Yes, what our boy did was wrong, but we can’t just abandon him!”
“And what about the Fredrick boy? Hm? Do you think his parents wanted to leave him? Well, thanks to our little bundle of joy, they don’t get to make that choice. He’s six feet under now, what’s left of him anyway, and I might add that there isn’t much! Shouldn’t we make sure that it doesn’t get the chance to kill ever again? Do we not have a duty to put down that monster and make sure that no one else has to bury their son at the age of only eight?”
Martha begins to cry.
“Dammit Martha, answer me!”
“He – he’s a good boy! He wouldn’t do it again. It it must have just been an accident… my baby would never try to harm someone else.”
“Martha, the Fredrick boy’s head wasn’t even near his shoulders. Both arms and both legs were broken and he carved some damn symbol into his chest! That was no accident!
Martha is crying harder, gasping for breath between sobs.
“It couldn’t have been him. Some kind of mistake. An accident. Please, please don’t take my baby!”
“It was him and he’s not your damn baby Martha! I doubt the thing’s even human. I was willing to assume it was some kid with some freak skin condition or something, but that’s too big a stretch. No face. No goddamn face! I’m getting rid of it, Martha. I’m going to throw the little monster into the woods and let the beasts there kill it like it killed that poor boy.”