ALICE (Book 1)

Chapter 1: Demise

      I was born on the twenty second day of the first month in the year 1970 in Stockholm, Sweden.My birth occurred at the Karolinska University Hospital on a cold day of winter, so I have been told.
      I have been also told that I was born with a thick mane of hair, luscious even then, and that I barely cried when I was born. The doctors insisted on examining me due to this.
      They concluded that I was healthy enough. A healthy thick maned cherub that entered a world of darkness.
      It's the year 1982 and I am sitted by the window of my home in Stockholm. I watch more snow fall to the already snow covered ground.Today is quiet atleast. My parents are not screaming at each other. Sometimes they get so violent I do nothing but huddle in a corner and cry until I can not cry anymore.
       But today is quiet, and I do nothing but revel in it.My brief tranquility comes to an end when my Mother comes into my room and sits next to me.She smells pungently of the alcohol she drinks from the clear bottle she always comes home with. I hate the alcohol. It makes her say things that hurt.It made her different from the faraway spark of memory she used to be in my earlier years.
        "Alice, " she slurs my name like she always does, especially lately. "Yes mother ," I murmur. I begin to brace myself for the hurtful words but what she says next utterly surprises me so much I  am unable to mask it from my face. "I love you."And with that said she gets up ,walks out of my room and slowly closes the door.
         I sit by my window still absolutely stunned.I always wondered for a long stretch of time now if anyone truly loved me. Apparently because of my Mother's known drinking habit people at school either pity or keep their distance from me.I prefer being alone in actuality.It is like a sanctuary of quiet. I like the quiet. But Mr Nilsson, my teacher of Mathematics, is nice.He knows my situation at home because I told him.He helps me.
       I contemplate about my longing.My longing to be loved and feel loved.It is a desperate feeling that consumes me each day." If she loved me I would not feel this way," I think out loud. This truth fills me with a rush of anger and uncertainty which morphs into finally sadness. The sadness that I completely hate.
       I cry as I watch the snow. But then I hear it.A deafening sound that leaves my ears ringing. I get up quickly from where I am sitted by my window and run into the hall.I still.What I see I know I will never forget.
       My Mother.....Mother......she is dead.She is on the floor. Blood is flowing out from a hole in her head.A gun next to her.She killed herself. 
       I walk slowly to her body in disbelief. She can't be gone. I feel panic and grief but I also feel an unmistakable feeling that I can not deny.Freedom. But I need her......I need her to love me like she did before. Her words earlier give the hope.I need her to show me that love."Mother," I call out to her dead body."Mother wake up," I say to her with tears cascading down my face. " I need you," I sob out now trying to pour the blood back into her skull with my hands. "Please," I pour some more and some more and then smear her blood all around myself to try and keep her with me.
        She is gone.Truly gone.She is never coming back.With that realisation I cry.Deeply.Like I have never before. I then feel suddenly tired.I go on top of my Mother's body and sleep with tears flowing down my face and reciting her lovely confession.

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          I awake to the sound of the door opening.I hear footsteps until they falter a few paces away."She finally decided to end it all," my Father says in a low voice. "Together with that pathetic thing of a child. " That is when I open my eyes and get off the corpse of my Mother. "You live child!" he sounded surprised and a little agitated. "Pity."
         Something comes over me when he says the last word.Something I can't explain. I feel a thick mixture of emotion. I can only make out one and that is anger. A pulsating anger.One that makes me want to see him bleed. I know it's not possible but I want to see him dead so that it can be him instead of Mother.So that she can come alive and show me the love she stowed away for so long.Yes,my only hope of love .That sounds beautiful.
         I get the gun and the next thing I know I am pointing it at him and pulling the trigger and not letting go until the bullets run out. All that with my eyes closed tightly shut and screaming at the top of my lungs.
         I open my eyes and walk to my Father. He is struggling. He has three bullet holes.Two in his chest and one in his stomach. I see blood run from his mouth and his wounds. I feel satisfaction but only momentarily before fear settles in.
         I run with the gun in  my hand to my bedroom and pack everything I can, including the gun, into a bag I stole in case of a circumstance of running away. This was inevitable. It was going to happen eventually. I just did not expect it to be coaxed by such tragedy. I pack saved money then run to the kitchen and get as much food as possible.
         I make for the door and realise my clothing is bloody. I then rush again to my bedroom, strip from my bloody clothing and wear winter attire.I hoist my bag over one shoulder and run out of my home.
          As I run through the streets of Stockholm I feel cold,empty and hopeless.My parents are dead.I killed one of them.I will be searched for by the police. I may be a child but I will make sure they never catch me.I run faster with that thought.