'Stalking towards the door in a furious rage, I slipped the knife out of my pocket.'
This is a short story that I wrote for school and I thought I might share.


1. ...

Stalking towards the door in a furious rage, I slipped the knife out of my pocket. He has gone too far this time and I have to do something about it. I have to kill him. This has got to end and there’s no better way than with his death.
This past week, I really haven’t been acting like myself and it doesn’t help that I have a dull ache in the back of my head. My brother seems to have guessed my slight change of character but he won’t leave me alone. I’m sure it’s nothing. At least, I was sure.
It started out as feeling a little more irritable and frustrated, as if I was trying to get used to something quickly. I had barely noticed the change at the time, but I can single it out now. I began to seek solitude instead of being with my family. I needed time alone. My perfect brother noticed my withdrawal and continuously asked me if I wanted to talk about it, even though there was nothing to talk about.
Over the last few days, I have had hatred bubbling up inside me, just waiting to erupt and it’s my brother’s fault if he is in the way when that happens. But it isn’t though. He’s just trying to help me out isn’t he? No. He just wants to mock me.  I’m not going to sit here and let him get away with it.
My mind seems to have drifted off again.
I barely hesitate as I kick my brother’s door with all my strength, feeling a vague satisfaction fill me at the sight of the door now hanging onto its hinges. Swarming forwards, I directed my knife slightly behind my back to ensure my element of surprise. I can’t have him preparing himself.
He looks up from where he is sitting at his desk on his computer. All of a sudden, he leaps to his feet, staring in horror at me.
“Y-Your eyes! What-“
I wonder what he is talking about? Is there something wrong with me eyes? Of course not. He is just trying to distract me. I bet he plans to kill me and this is how he will deter my attention before he does something. I can’t let him do that so his death will have to be quick.
Lunging forwards, I plunge the knife just above my dear brother’s heart.
“Bye bye, little brother.” I hiss as I push the knife in further still. Blood started to soak through his t-shirt and onto my hand, still gripping the knife handle, now level with his chest. My other hand is wrapped around his back to ensure he doesn’t slump.
 “I understand.” His eyes flicker towards his computer and then back up to me “I know why you are doing this. I understand.”
The last syllable escapes him and his breathing ceases. As the life leaves him, a huge weight lifts from my mind. A tsunami of grief floods my senses as I realise what I have done; I have killed my brother.
Falling to the ground, my brother’s body drops with me. As gently as I can, I lean it back so he is lying on his back. I did this. I stuck in the knife that’s protruding from his chest.
What are my parents going to say! What if they walking in now and see me sitting here with my brother’s corpse lying next to me with a knife sicking out that I put in there. What have I done.
Panicked, I glance around the room for some kind of explanation as to what happened. My eyes rest on the computer he was sitting in front of before I – well before he died. I could just make out an article that was open. Leaning over my brother’s lifeless form, I scan through what is on the screen through the tears clouding my vision.
‘There are rumours of supernatural beings called Skinwalkers … take control of a host’s mind without their knowing … dull ache in the head … strange behaviour has been recorded … eyes go black when they are about to kill … aware of the killing but unable to stop it … once they have killed, the Skinwalker leaves their host and goes elsewhere to kill another …’
I stumbled back from the screen in shock. That was it. Something, this Skinwalker, had been inside my head, controlling me into killing my brother. And he knew; he knew something wasn’t right with me and tried to help. But it was too late by then. Even if I now know what happened, it still doesn’t change anything. I killed my brother.

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