╔═════ஓ๑+๑ஓ═════╗
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐲'𝐬
╚═════ஓ๑+๑ஓ═════╝
Everything was normal, why wouldnt it be?
Mallory sat at the table, beating the table with her little fists. She was only a mere 6 year old but she was small for her age so she was sat on multiple cushions to boost herself up.
Her brother, Gilbert at nine tickled under her chin to keep her occupied as their mother slaved in the kitchen. She was frantically running around, plates clattering all over.
The warm smell of the food swirled around their heads, she was a good cook and everyone said it. That was apart from Michael who watched his wife like a hawk from the kitchen table. He always refused to eat her food.
Ada wiped her hands upon her apron and flashed a look towards her family, she was content.
"Gilbert hunny? Will you help me please" she asked and the boy shot up from the table and came over to his mother, picking up both his and Mallory's plate.
Ada caught Michael staring at her and shivered, he had been acting off more than usual but she had put it down to the fact that he was coming down with a cold.
She shot the table another anxious look and this time her eldest daughter caught her fear.
Persephone watched as her mother threw her a sad smile she knew she was hiding multiple secrets. She loved that about her, she always powered through everything with a smile.
Michael wiped his nose upon his sleeve to get rid of the snot dripping, he had found that his knuckles had turned white from gripping onto the cutlery set out for him.
He couldn't understand why he was the only person with a cold, why didn't his other family members have one too? Why just him? Why him?
"FUCK OFF" he shouted at himself wiping his snotty nose again, this had been going on for too long.
Persephone from next to him jumped at his loud shouting, she hadn't realised that her blood pressure must've gotten higher until her vision started to spot with black.
That had been happening frequently, panicked situations always made her light headed and she'd always wake up to find herself laid upon her bed with her mother nursing her forehead.
But that time it was different.
Her eyes flickered open and at first everything was red until her hazy vision cleared up and she found herself laid upon the floor.
She reached up to touch her head and winced but because of a sharp pain in her arm, she looked at her arm and found a small slash across it.
Her whole clothes were splattered with the spaghetti she had previously been eating.
Was it spaghetti?
Or was it blood?
She propped herself up on her elbows and glanced around, letting out a loud shriek. She crawled across the floor to shake Gilbert but she got no reaction from him. He was lifeless, or maybe he was just playing.
He's just playing.
Right?
"Gil" Persephone cried shaking him again, she'd chosen to ignore the three entry wounds to his chest because they weren't real.
They weren't real.
"This isn't real" she mumbled to herself.
She didn't know how she had managed to get to her feet with her legs shaking that much. She'd bitten her lip that much that it was bleeding down her chin.
She couldn't look, she couldn't do it.
She turned back to where she'd woken up from and perfectly placed just next to her was the knife, painted in red. She looked at her hands and they were covered too.
She'd done this.
This was her.
She'd killed all her family.
Persephone's vision started to darken again and then she was fully plunged into a black abyss, only to wake up sat on a sidewalk cold, alone and covered in dry blood.
