I screamed in frustration as I shoved the hall way wall. I didn't know what came over me. I had this warm, agonizing sensation consuming my brain. The pain had been indescribable, I felt like I was dying. I knelt down to the ground, rubbing harshly at my temples on my head to make it stop.
It was no use.
I found myself beginning to sweat violently too, gasping and breathing heavily for air. In a few seconds as my scream filled the house, my dad came darting towards the slim hallway, to grip on my shoulders tightly. He looked as if he had just seen a ghost. His broad muscular figure stiffened more, his muscles tensed through his grey jumper. His reddish brown hair was all messy instead of styled.
I kept telling myself don't die. Although I hadn't exactly been dying and I even knew that.
'Shane?' He shouted in horror, still gripping tightly on my shoulders. He was rocking me back and forth, hoping it was a way to snap out of it. I didn't listen to him. I shook my head violently as the ringing noise in my ear became more harsh for me to handle.
What's happening to me?
'Shane?!' He repeated, shouting at me still. I avoided his worrisome look, and scanned over to my left and right as if I had nothing else to do. I found myself reflecting my dad's grip back at him. I was gripping at his shoulders so tight that he even screamed in agony.
'I can't take it anymore!' I managed to scream. I released myself with all my force, out of my dad's safety grip. I spun round facing the opposite direction of my dad, not daring to look of how frightened he had been. I gulped down a lump of air. For some reason, it had been hard for me to swallow. I've never had this happen to me. Not to this extreme point. I screamed in agonizing pain. I didn't know what to do, I was panicking to even think of how this may of happened.
Then it stopped.
It wasn't stopped fully, because I still had the loud ringing noise rattling inside my ear. I still knelt down, and wrapped my arms around my legs and cradled myself. It was almost as if venom had been coursing through you. My dad hurried over, placing a muscular hand on my shoulder. I didn't realize I had been sobbing.
'What happened?' He asked quietly, not even looking at me. I gulped slowly and nervously. I shook my head and squinted my eyes as if it still hurt.
Even I didn't know the exact answer to my dads question. I turned to face my dad, looking horrified.
'It was too much,' I managed to choke out of me. I placed my hands on my temples again, shaking my head in the process. My dad didn't look at me at all, his eyes were filled with alarm as if he knew this would happen.
As if it was bound to go sooner or later.
'Just go get cleaned up okay son? I'll need to have a serious talk with you in the old family room,' He insisted, sighing anxiously. He was the first to get up. He didn't even look at me when he told me to clean up.
I'm going crazy.
There was no way this was normal, hell I didn't even if I had been even normal. Or was this just expected to happen? Is that why my dad was so calm about it?
It had been strange.
I decided to go for a quick shower, hoping it'll get my mind of things. But something else happened. It happened after I eventually got myself out of the warm, heaven like shower. I wrapped a towel around my waist, and walked in front of the bathroom mirror that had been all foggy. Something wasn't right. I wasn't writing on the mirror. Not that I usually do. The only times I have written on the bathroom mirror was when I was a kid, and to remember my exam revision notes whilst I brush my teeth. It was slowly forming a life-threatening message.
Shane Jasper Glass,
Your time is coming.
Be prepared or die.
I backed up away from the mirror. It wasn't written out of the fog.
Fresh, human blood was trickling down the mirror rapidly. I headed straight down the stairs, to the family living room. My dad hadn't been anyway to be found. I walked around the coffee table.
'No,' I breathed.
It can't be, he must be pretending. It has to be some sick joke of a brotherly fatherly relationship thing. My dad didn't move. He was face planted on to the ground, with his legs and arms sprawled in an awkward heap on the floor. I glanced over next to him, seeing a big, uneven circular dark shape that had been imprinted where he was. I knelt down to it, resting one arm on my knee, and feeling the patch next to my dad with the other.
I went to smell the thick, warm stuff on the tip of my finger- and scanned over my dad's body. It was blood. I gulped another chunk of air, and rolled him over to scan his front body. His lip was slit in half, his neck had a fresh cut just underneath his jaw line. The fresh cut on his neck... looked as if it had been drawn out slowly. As if some one was cherishing his or hers pleasurable moment of slicing my dads neck. His eyes were wide open, his right ear was half bitten off as if a wolf came into our house and attacked him.
Who would do this?
I simply didn't get why my dad had to die. He didn't scream. He didn't cry for help. He just... I don't know what he did to be honest. But all I know one thing is for certain, my strange agonizing pain, and my dad's death had to link into something. As if it had to happen on this very day, this very hour.
My brother was meant to be coming home to celebrate his engagement party. But he doesn't know he's dead. This wasn't meant to happen.
And in that moment, I realized I broke into tears.