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He slowly, picked up the vase and carried it home. When he was home he set it on his dresser and lied saying that the flowers were for his wife, so she wouldn’t complain. As everyone was sleeping, he heard the voices coming from the vase and flowers. They were chanting, “Do it, do it, do it....” over and over it ran through his head. It got so unbearable he succumbed to the commands. He slowly crept out of bed from beside his passed out wife, sedated by pain pills and vodka. Walking through the kitchen into the garage, he picked up a butcher knife and an ax. Slowly sneaking back up the stairs he started in the kids room saying his goodbyes and he raised the ax and watched as it dropped down on the two of them one at a time, losing count of how many times that ax was swung. After he stopped they were un-identifiable, he slid into his room where his wife was still sleeping. He shuffled quietly over to her side and with one swing her head was separated from the rest of her body. Now, the voices in his head, seeming pleased at what he did, he sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the top of his dresser with the vase of flowers on them, as if they were staring right back at him. As he did that, he slowly raised his butcher knife and slowly slit his throat.
As the early morning progressed, the sun came up and then weeks passed. Soon neighbors got suspicious and tried calling them, and when no one picked up they called the police. Needless to say, everything was a mess; the smell was putrid of rotting flesh