My Stalker Killer

One

"Hhhheeyyyy, Juusssstttiinnn!" My sister says stumbling down the stairs, clearly high out of her mind.

"What now, Kat?" I ask annoyed and my eyes glued to the screen trying to defeat the final boss.

"Heeeyyy... Beee niiicccceee!" She says sitting next to me on the sofa.

"Oh god, you stink." I roll my eyes. "But seriously, what the hell do you want?"

"I got some of that goooood shit upstairs. Youuuu should take a hit or two. Ya know, before ya go to work." She saying trying to get up, but fails several times.

"You know I can't. Go annoy someone else, ya pothead." I groan out of anger. I've been defeated.

"Okay, damn. You don't have to be so rude and pissy about it." She finally stands up and carefully makes her way to the stairs.

"Then stop coming down here to bug me every five fucking minutes." I turn off my gaming console and move past her to my room.

//

I heard a knock on my door and sighed deeply, putting my book down.

"Yes?" I yelled from my bed. The person behind the door was no other than my drunk father.

"Just thought I'd--" he pauses and let's out a large and disgusting burp. He breathes out heavily and continues. "Check on you. Ya know?" I roll my eyes.

"Yeah, dad. Whatever." I continue reading my book. He walks in and before he speaks, I speak. "Please just go. I want to read in peace."

He rolls his eyes and slams my door. I let out a heavy sigh and put my book down. I grab my PlayStation 4 controller and turn it on and my tv.

New message from SnakeEyes76: hey, man. you good? i know you been having a rough couple of weeks.

I reply: yeah. thanks for asking.

I close the messages and start my new game Wolfenstein.

//

Several hours later, it's two forty-six in the morning. I sigh and turn everything off. I plug in my ear buds and turn on some Get Scared. I plug in my phone so in case I fall asleep, my phone doesn't die. I stare at my ceiling find weird faces or objects. Then my mind starts wandering.

What if I wasn't born into this life?
What if my family was so fucked up?
What if my mom didn't have cancer?
What if I did things I've never done before?
What if I ended it all?
What if?...

I wake up remembering almost acting on my thoughts. I let out a sigh. My phone's at five percent. I get out of bed, but my legs are like jelly and my fingers feel frozen.

My father walks in wearing a tuxedo and a platter in his hand. What the hell is he doing dressed like that?

"Son," he speaks, but his voice sounds different. "We have guests coming over. We need some food, so your mother and sister will be helping. What we are about to eat will..." He pauses. "Cure her cancer." I drop my jaw in surprise and smile.

"Really?" I try to get up only to find cuffs on my hands connected to my headboard. "Wh-what's going on?"

"You see, my dearest son." He sets down the platter and opens my closet pulling out a small bag of what could be tools. "This special food..." He pauses again setting up the tools a table that was never in my room. "Is you."

He turns around and his face is nowhere human. He looks as if a wolf and a swan made a child. A tail pops through his pants and in his hand is a knife.

"What a minute... Silly me." He turns back around and grabs something else, putting the knife back. I sweat and try to move again, but my body won't budge. "We need to remove these garments." He cuts my shirt in a perfect line and does the same for everything else.

I'm left naked on my bed which is no comfort to me at all. He grabs a pen and marks what part he wants to cut.

My breathing is harsh and quick. This can't be the way I die. It can't...

He lets out an evil laugh and grabs a larger knife. I swallow down the lump in my throat and prepare myself for my death. He spins the tip of the knife on his finger drawing blood and lets out a groan. He moves his bloody finger down my chest to my waist and grabs my manhood and squeezes it tightly.

I hold in any sound I would ever make. He moves the knife near me and right before he does what he's about to, I spring up in my bed, covering my mouth realizing it was only a dream.

"Holy fuck..." I whisper. I put my head in my hands and calm myself down. "It was only a dream... Thank god..." I lay down and wipe the sweat off my forehead.

A small knock is upon my door. "Come in." I tell them.

"Hey, Justin honey." My mom opens the door. "What would you like for breakfast?"

"Anything is fine with me, mom. I enjoy your cooking, so make whatever you feel like." I smile. She smiles back and leaves.

She may be a cancer patient, but she still wants to be useful around the house. She does everything she can, but not too much. She knows her limits.

I get out of bed and change. I head downstairs and smell eggs and toast. My father sits in his recliner with his eyes glued to the tv. Kat sits on the couch with her things on the coffee table. Her bong in her hand along with her lighter, her weed jar on the table, her grinder, and whatever else she "needs".

I roll my eyes and walk into the kitchen. My mom making food for everyone as always. I wash my hands and help her out.

"Thank you, Justin, but I got thi--" she stops what she's doing and her eyes go wide.

"Mom?" I asked concerned. She falls and I do my hardest I catch her. She lands in my arms and I gently set most of her body on the floor away from the popping greese. "Mom?!" I tap her face a few times, but she doesn't respond.

I pull out my phone and dial 911.