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 Posted: Thu Mar 11, 2010 12:12 pm
Part One
It was funny, in a way, how it happened I mean. The fact that I was a Pride-filled, hateful b***h had been evident for years, but no one ever expected me to actually crack. It wasn’t completely my fault. They betrayed me first, after all. But no one saw that. No one stopped to even think of my side of the story as I was hauled off to the Looney Bin. Well, at least they let me keep my Itouch, and my DS Light, I don’t know how I would live without them.
I look back on how it all happened and smile menacingly, Like the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland, not the cartoon either, I am speaking of the scarier adaption that fits into my head, the rows of sharp fangs chilling every normal person, the bone and only making a few demented teens giggle.
It started at school. Friday, TGIF is all I could mutter as I rouse myself from bed and head downstairs, my bright red hair flat like a bag sucked of every bit of air, I didn’t even have to brush it. Instead I simply grabbed a hair tie and put it up. I never knew the origin of my red hair, everyone assumed that I dyed it, but I didn’t. It was natural, which made me unnatural. Different. I loved that I can say that about myself with a sure tone. People roll their eyes when I said so though. None of them knew that my hair is natural, and none know of my other secret.
To everyone I was a rebellious idiot that didn’t care about school, but that wasn’t true. It wasn’t that I hated school, everyone there just annoyed me. So I annoyed them back. The teacher gave me detention after detention, referral after referral, suspension after suspension, and my other brother shook his head every time that I got home with a note about my misbehavior but never said anything, he had given up on me a long time ago.
Both of us, I believed at that time, had given up a long time ago. But then I realized that he just didn’t care. My twin sister was the opposite of me, the A student. I could be an A student, believe me, I understood everything, hell, I read ever page of every school book I was ever given. I just hated the hierarchy of the school system, the drooling, festering, pimples of people that attended, the annoying, headache causing giggles of the girls and their pathetic drooling over the football players.
I was reduced to that only once, besides with the characters in my video games, and that was smashed quickly; the second I saw him holding hands with my sister. I wasn’t jealous, I recognized this as the natural order of the world; only those that are on the inside get in, when the ones that see the entire fault in the world are pushed out.
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Posted: Thu Mar 11, 2010 8:18 pm
Part Two:
That is how it continued, everyday of school, every time that I attempted to go out in public. And all I could do was think about how stupid all of them were, I didn’t understand how they didn’t see what I saw, didn’t know what I knew, and I knew that they would never understand even if they did know my thoughts. No one would ever get it, except for my sister. She got it, she got every aspect, but that didn’t stop her from being on the inside. She still remained an inch within the norm, within the boundaries, and I a mile out of it.
It was my eighteenth birthday, our eighteenth birthday. My sister had moved out some time ago, in with her almost husband. My brother did not know of their engagement, only I did. He also did not know of the child, the baby born a year ago. But I did. Those secrets I carried to the best of my ability, and, since I am not inside the ring, that was easy. There was no one to talk to, so there was no one that I could tell this information with.
I was at home reading one of my brother’s college textbooks, as I have said before I love to read, love to learn, but not of this. Not of what the ringing of my cell phone brought to me. I did not need to learn of it, but I did. It was my sister’s fiancé. I was confused, maybe her phone had died? But that wasn’t it. It was him.
I answered the phone; on the other line I could hear rain and some other sound, like the rush of wind. Like they were driving down the highway with the windows wide open. “Hello?” I asked, and then waited for a response, but there was nothing. “Sister?” I said, trying again. Then the wailing began, like someone was in this horrible pain that wouldn’t relent. Like that night so long ago that I barely remember. The night that I blocked from my mind for years, but my sister did not. The screams go familiar, much like the screams from my lost memory. I realized it then, why it was so familiar. It was my sister.
My chest constricted and I couldn’t breath. It felt like swimming class all over again. The roaring over the phone got louder and louder as my heart beat faster and one word was uttered over the phone in a male voice: “Father.” Then the line went dead, but not the button press then end. There was no click. It just died, a light going out. I heard the TV on in the living room, some news story about a crash on the highway.
I turned it off, not wanting to think the worst, not wanting to think that my sister was in that crash, about the fire, the burning. A wave washed over me and I shivered. The normal curiosity was absent from me at the subject of the memory that was rising in my mind. I didn’t want to know, I knew that I didn’t want to know, but it was coming. I knew it was inevitable the moment I heard the screams but I didn’t want to accept that flashback that was already occurring.
It is dark in my house. I am six. My sister curls under the covers of my bed, shaking. Mother and father are fighting again. I stay sitting up next to them, listening to every word. It is about us. Father says that they need to get rid of us that they can’t afford to pay for our food anymore. My fists clench in an odd way. Everything grows quiet, like the calm before a storm, and then the lightning breaks loose. The electricity in the house goes out, the nightlights in our room going out. The light our mother gave us fading into nothingness, as if giving up.
Our door opens, mother entering with a sad look on her face. She comes to me and lifts me up. “We are going to go out to the kitchen and get you a treat okay?” She says to me as she heads out of the room. I see father outside the room holding something in his hand. I may only be six but my brother taught me very well with video games about context, foreshadowing, and knives.
He goes to enter the room and I push myself out of my mother’s arms, heading back in to my sister who is now curled up in the corner of her bed. I hear them whispering, my mother no wanting to do this. A sharp thud followed by a gasp and another thud comes echoing in my room, the thunder has stopped, so there is no light anywhere anymore.
He gets closer and closer to the bed as I pull my sister by the hand, pulling her off the bed and urging her underneath. The smell of blood reaches me and I realize it’s from my mother. He killed her. But she was going to kill sister, wasn’t she? She chose me over sister, so I shouldn’t feel sorry, and I don’t. Father raises the knife that he holds in the air, I realize that I shouldn’t be able to see it, he shouldn’t be able to see me.
I focus and realize that there is a red glow within my eyes, allowing me to see. Father gets closer, lulling some sort of lullaby that had never graced his lips before. I won’t let him get to sister, even if it kills me. He seems to notice this because rather than keeping his normal pace, he lunges. I anticipate it though, and jump back, he stumbles and falls before me, and I place my hands on his shoulders, an urge. Then, he ignites, and I smile. I shove him back, easily lifting his weight and I throw him against the opposite wall. The knife falls with a clatter to the ground, and I lift it, examining my new weapon.
I look up at my father. He was going to use this on us. On us, his children. Now, he is rolling on the ground, the flames coming to a hush, I know that I could make them stronger, make his pain continue. But I let the flames die down. My sister crawls from under the bed, confused, as I head towards my dead father with my knife. I raise it above me as he stares up at me, fear coming from ever one of his pours. It makes me giggle, an evil maniacal sound, bubbling up. I’m laughing at the one I am going to kill.
Just before I strike, he tries to overpower me. Lunging again, but this time I dodge and strike, but am stopped. My mother grabs my wrist, her shirt is covered in blood, I don’t care. I catch my hand on fire, singing hers. She pulls back away from the sting, a humanly reaction. I turn to her, eyes glowing brighter than before, and her whole body is engulfed in flames. She screams, wailing uncontrollably because of the pain. But I smile. I smile and turn back to my father, plunging the knife deep inside his skull. Then everything goes black.
The next day I wake in the hospital with my sister, half of her body is singed and burned, and there is not a mark on me.
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Posted: Thu Mar 25, 2010 1:46 pm
Part Three:
I fell to my knees in the living room, the memory of killing my parent’s fresh in my mind, but it didn’t effect me in a negative way. It empowered me. I turned back to the TV, turning it on as the house phone begins to ring, ignored at first. I look at the TV, seeing the remains of what looked like the same make and model of my almost brother’s car, a crisp being dragged off to some dump.
I then grabbed the phone and lifted it to my ear, “Hello?”
“I’m headed down the driveway.” My real brother said to me over the phone. “There’s been an accident, be ready when I get there.”
“Okay,” I replied with no hint of emotion in my voice, it echoed his. This made me think about him. Where was he on that night so long ago when I killed them? When they tried to kill sister?
The answer was there, somewhere. But at that moment I did not want to know of it. Remembering one thing was fine at that moment, I didn’t need anymore. I go to my bedroom and grab my jacket, then head outside. He wasn’t there. Our driveway is only a mile from the main road which means that he should have been there if he was already on it, the way that he drove.
Then I sensed someone, in a tree to me left. It wasn’t my brother. He was holding a cool object, and out of it shot a red source of heat. I dodged to the side, too late, the silent bullet went deep into me shoulder and I was knocked back. The man moved, reloading. He only thought he would need one shot.
I was gasping, trying to get up. I wasn’t used to that kind of pain. I finally got to my feet when I sensed him putting the gun back on the mount, aiming for me again. I dashed back inside and hid next to the window. The shot in my arm was throbbing, but I ignored it. I knew that if I kneeled to crawl below the window seal that I would not get back up.
I thought about that night when I killed my parents, trying to figure out how I knew what to do then. It was instinct. In the back of my mind there was a voice, a calm, soothing voice so familiar yet so new. It whispered something and I opened my mind, trying to figure out what. It whispered again a single word. Disappear.
That word echoed over and over in my mind. Disappear, I thought, disappear. Then I ran in front of the window, a shot not even fired. It was dark in the house as I headed to my room leaned against the walls as support. My room was facing the opposite way as the shooter, which meant that I could get out and into the woods undetected.
I grabbed my brother’s credit cards off the table at the top of the stairs and the money from the stash in my room before climbing out my window and down the vines to the ground. I realized what had happened then; I truly was invisible, surrounded by a cloak of darkness. The only thing that disrupted my cloak was the white light of the moon that was now clearly visible and bright in the night.
I entered the forest with my palm pressed against the bullet wound, heating it and sealing it. I didn’t care about the bullet that was inside; it didn’t matter at the moment. What did matter was what was going through my head. Where was my brother that night when we were almost killed? He wasn’t protecting us, and it was a school night. I remember because we had a lot of homework the next day from not going there.
I decided to check and see if he actually was coming down the drive as he said when he told me to go outside. When I went to the road I sensed the heat of a car coming down, but there were too many people in it to be my brother. As I thought this I realized that they were coming from the direction of my house, which meant it had to be the man that shot me and some associates. As they came into view, I watched them cautiously, they couldn’t see me with their naked eye so I was convinced I was clear, and then I heard a bullet wiz by my head.
I immediately rushed back into the brush as the barrage of bullets continued. I heard the doors of the van open and men rush out. My leg was bleeding and throbbing badly, hit, but I ignored it and ran as fast as I could.
In PE, I was the fastest. Actually, I was the fastest runner in the school. Teachers had tried to get me to join the teams since elementary school, but I always declined. I liked to run, but for someone else’s entertainment. My speed was helping now in that I could still run faster than my pursuers even though I was injured.
I was slowly getting weaker and weaker because of blood loss and just the pain of it all when they started to catch up, bullets started shooting again when suddenly the ground was disappeared from under my feet. A trap. I grabbed the edge of the earth, gripping my fingers and fingernails into the rock. I looked down and saw the sharpened sticks below me. To the side was what looked like a hole that I could crawl through. I was never a good aim when jumping, whether it be out of a tree onto a trampoline, or into a pool, I always missed. But I had to try; otherwise the men would just get me.
I took a deep breath and pushed off the wall, trying to jump in between the spikes. I misjudged barely, one of the spikes slicing into my uninjured arm. I looked towards the hole and realized another thing. It was much smaller than I thought, and there was no way I would fit in it.
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