Tonight's bloody morsel of horror: 100 fear-filled words for a Sunday night

Family Rearrangements

At first the voice came only in my sleep. A few whispered words, a mirthless tittering laugh. Soon it came to me in daylight, too. Questions, usually. “Would you like to see her dead, butchered?”  At first, I ignored the voice, tried to think of something else.

But it became more insistent and I realised that it often expressed things I wanted. It made murder, torture seem logical. Inevitable. And he knew things. Things nobody should know.

He said they used to call him Jack.

He told me to start with my daughter. Rearrange her organs.

I did.