I walk over to my dead wife's side and stare down at her lifeless body. Numb with grief. the neighbors have already surrounded our home, or at least it was my home... until now. I start to cry. I don't care who sees.
"Sonya!" I cry out.
Its just too much. I run my hands through her hair and caress her lifeless face. Through my tears i can still see her beauty, a beauty that radiated in her life has not been taken away by her death.
I think back to the times when we were still kids, playing in the fields and chasing each other through the grass, even back then i knew that she was the one i was going to marry. I remember our wedding. It was the most beautiful anyone had ever seen in decades, or so i was told. All i knew back then was that in my arms was the most beautiful creature alive and nothing could tear my eyes from her.
Its ironic how through the years ive claimed to be a mananangal hunter, risking life and limb to make sure that nobody has to ever go through...this. How could i have let my guard down so easily? I've thought I'd regained some composure when I force myself to look down at the wound in her belly and the tears and sobs begin anew. We were going to have a child! We had given up hope on that a long time ago but suddenly we were! We were so happy when we first heard the news that we were literally dancing in the streets out of sheer joy! Now both of them are gone. Oh what cruel tricks life can play.
I examine the wound closer, maybe its all my years as a hunter but something in my gut tells me something isn't right. I ask one of my neighbors to get me some cloth so i can clean up the blood off her body. Not that really needed a cloth. i already knew what i was seeing right when i first noticed it. I just had to be sure. In mere seconds my friend is back with a big white cloth. I wipe the blood off her gently so as not to disturb the wound itself. After I'm done i see the wound as it truly is.
This is no mananangal attack, the cut is too smooth, too purposeful. Teeth do not make clean cuts like this. This cut was made with a knife.
I stand up slowly and walk out the door. My neighbors who have looking and peeking through my door and windows sees the wound and let out gasps of shock, they realize it too.
Somebody murdered my wife and took my unborn child with them. My grief slowly transforms into blinding rage. I walk faster away from the crowd who begin to stare after me. I pity the unfortunate one who dares go near me. More likely than not, id most probably strangle them to death one of sheer spite for everything right now.
I will find this person. I will make them pay.