1. Nightmare

~~The storm blew in suddenly and without warning, the same night they left; the same night their nightmare began. Mother and father had gone out for the evening; again, it was just my two siblings and I in the house. Just like any other evening, they always left on weekends. They were never home, and I hated them for it. I was only nine years of age, and I was not ready for the responsibilities of an adult. And I was not going to take it upon myself to do it either. Mother had fed young Anastasia and Kirsten before she left, they were asleep upstairs in their bed. Not a care in the world, not even the slightest hint to what was about to happen. I was sitting in my room, staring out the window, waiting for my parents’ arrival. Waiting for when they would choose to grace us with their presence, most likely intoxicated. But tonight was ‘special’; they came home at two in the morning, instead of their usual four our five. I watched them walk up the pathway leading to my house. Yes, my house, I’m here all the time, I never leave, I never get the chance, and at the rate, I never will. I never get to do anything, besides what my ‘parents’ are supposed to be doing. Their never here, they never take care of the house, they never take care of my little sisters, and they never take care of ME. I have claimed this house as my own, I know everything about it. Every little creak, every hole, every little creature that lives within my home. Despite the fact that it is my home, I never get to have fun. Except when I’m watching the little creatures that dwell within my home scurry around the kitchen floor, seemingly unnoticed. Thinking I don’t know they’re there. Thinking that just because they’re so fast, no one can touch them. That just because they’re so small, they are unharmable. They’re so cute, so fuzzy, so…white. I hate the color white, it’s so plain. It stares you in the face, nothing but white everywhere you look. It reminds me of the hospital…I hated that place; everything was white. The walls were white, the beds were white, even the sheets I lain upon were white. Which is why I didn’t’ feel bad for tainting them red, nor the walls now stained with their blood, the floors, coated in the sticky substance that we survive on. Oh well…it was only a few humans…there are plenty more to play with. As I sat there petting Mr. Whiskers, my newest pet. Some of the blood still clotted in its fur, I listened for the click below, and the noisy sounds of my parents feet as they steadily made their way into the living room to watch the news. Like every weekend. After an hour or so listening to my mother and her insistent giggling…my father undoubtedly touching her in inappropriate places. Thinking that since the kids are asleep…it’s okay to do that kind of stuff in the open. Like we can’t hear them. Like Anastasia isn’t covering her ears with a pillow, like little Kirsten isn’t tossing in her sleep, from the sounds that escape my mothers’ throat. Like I can’t see what they are doing, as I sit at the top of the stairs, hidden away from the eyes of the world. He turns the light out, like that can stop me from seeing him climb on top of her. The tv flickers brightly, showing the latest homicide on the news. We live in a very dangerous part of town. Stuff like that happens everyday, and the police don’t even know the half of it. I sit there, waiting, watching…until my parents have stopped moving. The old grandfather clock that belonged to my great grandfather chimes in the background. I am not paying attention…I am waiting until they fall into a deep sleep. One…two…three…four chimes…I have been sitting here for two hours…waiting…plotting… thinking of what their fate shall be…many things have crossed my mind…so many things I could do. So much time to do it…slowly…quickly… No matter how I do it though, red stains are imminent though. I will see to that. I sat there on the balls of my feet, crouched over in an animalistic position, my eyes staring straight at the couch, never moving, barely breathing; not a sound is uttered from my mouth. I’m listening carefully, waiting for that heavy bear like sleep they always succumb to after a night on the town. Yes. I have watched them…night after night. Just watching them, studying there every movement. They never see me; they never know when I’m behind them. They never notice when I’m trying to get there attention…to tell them I’m hungry, that I need food. I yell, I scream, but they do not look. They do not turn around, they don’t even notice me. They never do. One…two…three…four…five chimes the grandfather clock. An hour had passed by in mere seconds…I was transfixed on one spot, and one spot alone. I watched them finally fall into a deep sleep, their chests moving slowly, up and down. There breathing deeper, slower, almost labored. I sat there a bit longer, making sure they would not wake. My eyes never leaving that spot, I did not blink, not once. After what I thought was a few minutes, I slowly crept down the stairs, my hair in my eyes, covering my face in shadows. I crept through the shadows, unseen by the human eye. Making my down the stairs, my legs carrying me in the direction of the couch. I felt something heavy in my right hand, looking down I saw a rusty butcher knife; blood stained from previous uses. I did not know how it got there, but I knew why I had it. As I crossed the thresh hold of my sanity, plunging deeper into the depths of my mind; a place to where I cannot control my being. I cannot help but do the things that I long to do…the things that I have been just out of my reach for too long. Much too long, and tonight I shall claim what is rightfully mine. When I looked around once again, I noticed that I was standing over my parents…devoid of any clothing. I scowled, a bitter taste in my mouth. I stared at them, just studying there faces for who knows how long. I didn’t, and I didn’t care. This was the moment I have dreamt of for so long, the moment that all my fear, all my disgust, all my hatred comes to a boiling point. Driving me further, erasing all doubts from within me; telling me this is what should be done. And no one but me can do it, no one knows who they really are and what kind of people they really are. I care nothing for them, though there blood flows within my veins, throughout my entity. Telling me I am a part of them…that I am like them…that I am them. No. I am nothing like them. I am nothing like them. I. Am. Not. Them. My mind filled with rage, a warmth spread through me, the air around me suddenly got thicker, heavier. Filling my senses with the nostalgia, my mind foreseeing the soon to be reality. I can see the look in their eyes, I can feel their flesh underneath my fingernails, I can hear, their screams that will fade into the night. I can taste their fear. They’ve known it all along, they’ve known that this was going to happen, so why did they torment me so. Why was I nothing to them, why didn’t they see me, why couldn’t they just love me? Was I really that much of a mistake to them, was I so worthless that they couldn’t love me? Why couldn’t they just look at me? Why? Why?!
“Why?” I whispered. Nothing…I knew I expected an answer I would not get. “Why?!” I questioned a little louder. “Why!” now on the verge of tears. “WHY?!” I yelled. “WHY! WHY?!” I screamed, each one getting louder and louder. My parents eyes flew open, startled by the interruption of their sleep. My fathers’ eyes went from anger, to confusion, to fear; as he saw the knife I clutched in my right hand. My mother starting whimpering as my father started to shield her, hiding her from my view. I gazed at their naked skin, disgusted and repulsed by the very sight of them.
“What, what are you doing Elizabeth?” I grinned a sickly grin, and did that last thing they expected me to do at this moment. I started laughing, not a quite laugh, no. A boisterous and maniacal laugh, that bounced and reverberated off the walls.
“So now you recognize me…now you look at me…you finally gave me what I wanted father.” His eyes glistened with tears as he realized what my intentions were, seeing a grown man cry…ha. So pathetic. “You’ve said my name, and seen who I am, who I truly am. If you would’ve paid more attention to me, then this wouldn’t have to end this way.” He was about to say something when I flung myself at him, he scrambled to escape the direct line of impact. The knife pierced my mothers flesh, easily sliding through her heart, sending her into hysterics. Her eyes wide with fright, she looked me in the eyes as I twisted the handle of the blade. Her eyes grew slightly bigger, blood seeped from her mouth, and poured from the slit in her heart. Then her eyes dulled and she became still. As I slid the knife from her heart, I looked around for my father dearest. I grinned maliciously seeing my father, crawling on his hands and knees as I drew steadily closer to him. I stood above him, blade in my hand, blood dripping from the tip of it. I raised it above me and held it there, my father saw his death in my eyes. He did the last thing he could, to maybe save his life, he begged.
“No, no, don-“ I brought the knife down and plunged it through his head, he convulsed as his blood splattered across my face and onto my white dress; now coated in red. Then he grew still and slumped to the floor…I shot up and looked around, trying to figure out what happened. Did I fall asleep, what…then I looked around. I saw my father still lieing on the ground, the blade still extruding from his skull. My mother still half on, half off the couch, blood coated on her bosom. I smiled a real smile, that came deep within me.
“So it wasn’t a dream.”

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