Bits of twigs and leaves poked out from the pigtails that bushed from both sides of the child's blond head. Deceptively innocent blue eyes were hidden behind long lashes that brushed against round, cherubim cheeks. Her pink baby doll dress had been torn, darkened stains bibbed the front of her chest and what should have been white stockings were now torn shreds of fabric that clung to bruised legs. A dried mixture of blood, gore, and mud clung in caked lumps to the child's pink and white saddle shoes.<br/><br/>She walked with unnatural movements through the abandoned park. Her body jerked and pulled with each cumbersome stride. An empty swing rocked to and fro, its rusted hinges creaking a daunting minuet that danced mournfully with the saddened song of the evening's wind. The child's plump arms cradled a bundle swathed in a blue dirty baby's blanket.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">"Hush, little baby, don't say a word,"</span>she cooed softly. A twig snapped behind her and she clumsily spun around, her arms falling limp at her side. The bundle fell and bounced away and as the blanket snagged against a root of the tree she stood beneath, the lifeless form of a newborn infant fell away from it. The purplish skin of the newborn stretched taut across the baby's face while insipid eyes stared morosely at nothing. The infant's belly had been split open, devoured. The girl smiled innocently, a dainty hand held against rosebud lips stained with gore as she halfheartedly suppressed her giggles.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">"Teehee,"</span>she cocked her head to the side as she stared. Her face drew slack, as if every muscle had atrophied.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">"Mommy?"</span>Her voice. So innocent. Childlike. Angelic, even. She stared up at the owner of the crossbow that was now aimed for her throat. A woman, perhaps in her twenties, claimed ownership of the weapon. Her face was structured like a model's...high cheekbones, a generous jaw, and an abbreviated ski jump of a nose. She wore her black hair slicked back to form a single braid that fell to the small of her back.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">"You wouldn't hurt me, would you...Mommy?"</span>She swallowed. Her hands moved behind her back, fingers twisting nervously as she tottered back and forth on the tips of her toes. She blinked away the fat, faux tears that rolled down dirty cheeks.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">"Mommy, ple__,"</span>the finger pulled the trigger and the arrow bulleted into the child's throat. The girl's face contorted, twisted in anger and hatred as thick, viscous fluid bubbled out from her mouth. She clawed fiercely at her throat as her tiny body fell to the ground. Death throes racked the child's body as she kicked out vehemently before coming to a stall.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">"I am not your mother,"</span>the woman lowered her weapon. She dug around the front pocket of her jeans to fish out her cell phone. A thumb pressed the numbers she needed and while she waited for an answer, she retrieved the silver-tipped arrow.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">"Let him know it is done,"</span>she spoke when a voice answered.