Alone in the snow

It's cold, so cold. No warmth in the house, there hasn't been for years. I'm sitting by the fire, but it brings no warmth. My sister and brother is here too, yet I still feel lonely. I've never liked the dark, but now I welcome it. It's a comforting force inside of me. I've always been alone, different from my brother and sister. Maria and Jonathan, so normal. Then there's me, Rebeca, with one c. I know my family thinks I'm weird, but nonetheless they force me here, with them to this house. Every year. What a holiday, in a cold house, surrounded by people that I know doesn't want to talk to me. Maybe that's why I'm lonely. The house is covered in a cold darkness, dark wood, that creaks when you step on it. This house used to be filled with light and warmth, back when I was normal. Back when we were a family. Now we're just strangers, that think we know each other. I wish we could be a family again. That I could be normal again. My mother would stop taking her pills and my dad let go of the bottle. It's unfair, why can't we be a normal family like everyone else. I can smell the smoke from my brother's cigarette. Smoking, that's so normal. "Can't you do that outside?" I probably sound grumpy when I say it, but I don't care. I am weird. "You can just go outside yourself." He takes a big drag from his cigarette. Irritating. Sometimes I hope he dies of cancer; he does smoke enough to get it. It's harsh of me and not normal, but it's his own fault. It's not the first time I have thoughts like these. When my mom started acting weird from the pills I wanted to strangle her with my laces. Not normal thoughts for a 12-year-old. A long time ago I wasn't like that, I was normal. Normal, if only I could be normal. I can hear my mom and dad yelling at each other in their bedroom, upstairs. Such an irritating sound. Even through their yelling I can hear the other sounds of the house. The wind blowing outside, the fire crackling. I can hear the water dripping from the tap. Reminds of when I was 11 and drowned my hamster. It wasn't an accident. I just wanted to know long it could hold it' breath. My mom was hopping mad. "Stop being so weird! You're staring at nothing like a psychopath! You Weirdo!" My sister's annoying voice reaches my ears. Weirdo, psychopath, both names my sister often use for me. "I'll go outside for a moment" I get up and go to the door. The door to freedom, but I have nowhere to go. Nobody to be with. Who wants to be with the psychopath, a wierdo. Outside is cold, colder than inside. The snow is falling slowly. If I was normal I might have thought it was beautiful. I can see the shed. There's not irritating siblings, no parents who gets hopping that I killed a hamster. I hate my family, I guess there's many people who do. I loved them once, but not anymore. Sometimes I wonder why. It's useless. They're stupid. They're normal. They make me want to kill them sometimes. A lot. I've reached the shed. The door creaks when I open it. Inside the shed is darkness. Another kind of darkness than in the house. This is the comforting darkness, the darknesss I go to when I'm out of it. I pick up something familiar. An axe, the sharp blade shines in the little light the moon shines. I find it beautiful, the way it shines. So pure and delicate. It will be so much more beautiful once I've used it. I can hear my parents faintly in the background. Still yelling inside. I'll make them stop. I quietly leave the shed. It has stopped snowing. With my hand on the doorknob I stop a moment. I ask myself if I really want to do this. I'm sure. I'm not hesitating anymore. Once I get inside, I can hear my brother and sister talking. Their irritating voices fill my head. I stand in the doorway and stare at them. I can hear they're talking about me, but that will soon stop. They haven't seen me, they never do. I raise the axe above my head and without hesitating I slash. My brother's head splits and my sister screams. If only she would shut up. My next slash lands in my sister's throat. The blood spurts, the crimson color hits my face. After few seconds they're both still. Finally, they're quiet. I can hear my parents come down the stairs. As soon as I see them it's like something snaps inside me. I sprint towards them. A murderous look in my eye. How ironic. They're slow, of course. The alcohol, the pills, it has broken them. Like I'm broken. Like that they're on the floor, still, lifeless. My mother's hand in my father's. Only in death they love each other again. I can feel the blood dry on my skin when I come out in the cold air. I sit down in the snow, not caring that I'm getting wet and cold. I don't feel the cold. I only feel a satisfaction of the quiet. I'ts begun to snow again. The blood from the axe has marked the snow. Blood on snow. It's beautiful, but I know the snow will cover it soon. Maybe it can cover me. Make me disappear to another place, without people. Without dead hamsters. A place where I'm normal. Where I won't be a weirdo, a psychopath, a murderer. Now I'm alone in the snow. Thinking about an ending to my story. Where it is.