Janet Stevenson

The end¿

I practically jumped out of bed. My birthday was today! I pulled on a loose white shirt with "HOPE" on the front, flowers in the letters. Smiling, I lazily pulled on some jeans. As I was walking out, my eyes landed on the stitches I had purchased a while back. It was for a school project. I walked towards my desk, which they sat upon. My hands ran over the object, surprised at the happiness it gave me. I picked it up, hugging it close. Something loomed over me. A feeling hung in the air. A murderous feeling.
         I froze, dropping the stitches. I remember how fascinated I was. They could stretch. So if you were, say, to stitch your lips you could still talk. The pads of my fingers touched my soft lips, and I imagined it. Picking up the stitches and having at it. The pain. The blood. My heart pounded against my chest, and I shook my head. Brushing away my thoughts, I rushed out of my room.
           The sound of the tv echoed down the hall. Suddenly, a word was yelled.
" SILENCE! " I froze. The words melted through me. As if they were mine. Belonged to me only. I dug my nails into the palm of my hand.
No. I imagined standing over my fathers body. NO. Driving a knife deep into his heart. STOP!! Watching him scream and beg as blood splattered my face and stained his clothes. A sinking feeling rose in my stomach. What am I doing? Deep breathes. I inhaled. Im not crazy. I dont want to kill my fa-

      My heart sunk. I did. I really did. I rubbed my eyes. I was going crazy. Shaking my head desperately, I brushed the thought away. Today was my birthday. I damn well will have a good time. With a hopeful bounce in my step,  I walked out to the living room. My eyes locked with my mothers, and I was confused when hers darkened and clouded with worry.
         My dad didnt so much as look up. " Your doing all the chores today. And make breakfast. Its your mothers birthday, for christs sake." The words cut through me like a knife.
         "N-No its my birthday. I. Its on my-" I was cut off from my stuttering, as my father glared right through me.
          "You dare lie to me on her fucking birthday?! God your such a mistake! Shut the fuck up and get my breakfast you wortheless piece of shit!!"
           I stared right at my mother. She avoided my gaze. Bitch. This consuming feeling of sadness took over me. I didnt realize I was shaking until I tried to turn, and the world shifted. I broke into a ran for my room, Tears clouding my vision. The next thing I knew I was sobbing in the bathroom, the stitches in my hand.
            The first sliced through my lip, as blood gushed out. I ignored the shock wave of pain, and instead focused on my hand. When I was finished, I opened my mouth widely. The stitches cut into my flesh, causing another earth shaking volt of pain. Blood was running down my mouth like a waterfall. I smiled, unable to control my sobs.
         I stumbled out of the bathroom, running into the kitchen. Plop. Plop. Droplets of blood hit the tile. I grabbed the biggest knife on the charcoal colored rack. To get there attention, I threw a coffee cup to the ground. When it hit, shatters of glass flew amidst the floor. My dad was the first up, angrily stomping to me, when he saw the blood coming from my mouth. And the stitches. And the knife. And my eerie smile. The blood drained from his face.
        My mother ran to his side, and she to was speechless. "Look daddy! Aren't I pretty?" My voice was shaking, but I laughed softly. Father Dearest sputtered, looking like he was going to get sick.
         Mother dearest began to cry heavily. Shaking and sobbing. I walked up to her slowly, and she looked up. "Time for you to be silenced." I whispered, swinging the knife so it cut through the soft skin protecting the inside of her neck. Blood sprayed out as her body hit the floor. Twitch Twitch. Than nothing. My father, deciding now was the time to throw up the remains of his dinner from the previous night, doubled over.
       A pool of crimson blood reached my black sneakers, and I chuckled. Father looked at me. Than began to swing his fist. Not this time, Dad. I plunged the knife deep into his stomach, watching his knees give way as he collapsed. He yelled with pain, his face red as he cursed.
         Crouching down, I pulled the stitches out of my blue jacket, and wove them into my mothers lips. Standing, I looked towards my father. No Movement. I didnt even bother with him. "Worthless pig." I spat, turning and walking out the back door. I admired the crimson on my knife, when I looked up.
          The boy who carried me into my room, stood there at the bushes. A group of people wearing different colored hoodies behind him. Some up Some down.
            Than the tall man in the suit I had seen on my first day of highschool, appeared. My expression didn't change.
           "My names Toby." The boy offered with a smile. "Come with us, We're your family now."
     I smiled back, walking forward as the group turned and the man with no face disappeared.

     Im home.

'
'
'
Word count: 928