Dylan sat on his bed, with a razor in his hand. A razor he knew too well. He rolled up his sleeves to where the inside of his elbow was visible. He put the sharp cold metal into his skin and pulled it across. One cut, two, three, four… fifteen. That was his process, he would start off lightly and get worst with each cut, until he reached fifteen. He put the razor back into his bedside drawer.
He sat there, looking up at the ceiling listening to the outside world from his open window. The smell of crisp autumn leaves filled the room. Wind whistling through the trees. Piece of shit. No one likes you. THe voice repeated again in his Dylan's head. “Shut up.” He said. Your family hates you. They always have, and always will. They’d rather die than have to deal with your bitch ass. Why don’t you do them a favor and kill- “Maybe I will.” Dylan interrupted the voice and stood from his bed. “If I kill them, then they don’t have to deal with me.” He chuckled evilly, and opened his bedroom door. He walked into the kitchen. He stopped in front of the knife drawer. That’s it, just take the biggest one and off them all. Do them a favor Dylan. “You’re right.”
He opened the drawer and grabbed the biggest knife that was in the drawer and closed it. “Who should I start with?” Sarah. She always hated you. Talked shit about you to mom, dad, and her friends all the time. “Okay.” He walked down the hall, the first door on the right. He stood in front of it. Dylan reached his hand out and turned the knob, he pushed open the door. Sarah was lying there in her bed sleeping peacefully. He walked over to her. Looked at her, she was breathing slowly and had her hands under her head. She was only 13.
Slit her throat. Dylan placed the knife above her neck, just centimeters from her skin. In one smooth movement he dragged the knife through her throat. Blood spued out onto her cloths, and bed spread. Once he saw her eyes shoot open he turned around and walked towards the door. The last thing Sarah sees is her big brother walking down the hall towards their parents room with an evil grin on his face.
First went dad. He was always so hard on Dylan to be the perfect child, good grades, girlfriend, popular. But Dylan was gay, got slightly above average grades, and had little to no friends. He didn’t make a sound when Dylan slit his throat. Which was good, mom didn’t wake up. Dads eyes followed Dylan as he made his way over to the other side of the bed. His dad last saw Dylan kill his wife. With a huge smile on his face.
At this point Dylan has gone mad, he cut open each of their stomachs and ripped out their intestines. He dragged each lifeless body to the large oak in the back yard, and grabbed a ladder from the garage. He tied all the intestines together to make one long rope. He tied one end to his father's neck, wrapped the middle part around Sarah’s neck multiple times. Then the very end to his mother’s neck.
He hung them from a large branch of the oak, like morbid christmas ornaments. Once he finished stringing them up he stepped back and admired his work with a large smile. He looked down at his hands which were covered in the blood of his family. Cut them off, you touched those assholes with them. Get rid of them. He walked back into the house and grabbed a butcher knife from the pantry. He placed his left hand on the counter, he put the knife on his wrist. He pulled his hand back and slammed it down on his wrist. Dylan screamed in pain, but soon began to laugh loudly with each slam to his wrist. Soon he only had one hand left.
He used a hot piece of metal to close up the wound. He smiled at the stump where his left hand used to be. Your eyes, you’ve looked at them. Take them out. You don’t want any way of seeing those backstabbing people anymore. Take them out! Dylan walked into the garage and grabbed a garden tool from his mom area. It was used to dig small holes. It was small enough to take out an eye. He placed it in his right eye and closed it. He screamed but soon laughed, when he was his emerald green eye on the ground.
He walked into the house, grabbed a box, placed his eye, his hand, and a note in the box.
Dear town of shit heads AKA Marysville California,
This is Dylan Smith here. You might know me better as the gay kid you used to bully. But you’ll never find me again. No on will. After you see what I did. I hope you don’t find me. It’ll be best if you don’t come looking too.
He closed it and returned to the garage, got in his dad's car and stared it. He drove to the police station smiling and laughing the whole way there. He put the box in front of the door. He got back in the car. He drove all the way to a cliff. Stopped about 100 feet away. Laughing like a psychopath he slammed on the gas and drove off the cliff. The car slammed into the rocks with a loud crash.
The next day the police go to Dylan's home to find his family hanging from the oak tree by their own intestines. Days later Dylan’s car is found by some by passers. But the strange part is, Dylan wasn’t in the car when police went to investigate.