Have you ever killed someone?Feel your victims blood run down your body? See life leave one's eyes as you slowly insert a sharp knife through their chest. Or see the knife glide on their neck slicing the soft flesh as blood oozes out? Hear the bones...
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Thunder rumbled ominously outside, and a bolt of lightning split the midnight blue sky, casting jagged flashes of pure light against the monochromatic background of my kitchen. The wind screamed more than it howled, and the rain fell like heavy bullets in a relentless rhythm.
Clutching a can of beer, I made my way back to my room through the dark hall, the sound of the news playing on my old TV growing clearer with every step.
"There have been several cases reported recently of brutal killings. Evidence points..."
I reached for the remote to silence the volume, setting the can down on the table before sinking into the couch.
Closing my eyes, memories flooded in, beautiful yet agonizing, slicing through me like shards of glass. The most cherished memories were the most painful, a reminder of what I had lost. Being here filled me with a potent mix of anger and sadness, emotions that seemed to seep deeper into my bones with each passing day. The emptiness of the house, coupled with the storm outside, seemed a perfect reflection of the darkness within me.
Lost in my thoughts, I was jolted by the loud buzz of my phone, the sound echoing through the quiet house, emphasizing its emptiness. I picked up the phone, and my mother's name flashed on the screen,a name I never thought I would ever see as a kid.
"Mom?" I whispered before answering.
"Hey, Mom," I greeted, trying to keep the ache out of my voice.
"How are you, my dear?" her voice, frail and tired, came from the other end.
"I'm good. I was about to call you, but the networks are a bit bad," I lied, trying to shield her from worries that I knew would never burden her.
"Oh, honey, it's fine. I wanted to confirm if you are coming this weekend. It's your uncle Max's birthday, and he misses you," she continued, her voice filled with longing.
I took a deep breath, the weight of guilt settling heavily on my shoulders. It had been two years since Uncle Max died.
"Yeah, I'll try," I reassured, feeling the sting of regret.
