The Duns

Preface

Preface

Peter

March 2046

I swallow a gust of air- not like I need it- and shut my eyes, not wanting to see what I am about to do. The sound of her sobbing pierces me like nails, each one sharper than before. Shoot her. Shoot her now and it will all be gone. She has seen too much. Way too much.

"Peter!" She screams. "Don't do this! Stop! It's not you!" Her thin figure is cramped into the corner, her knees in an odd position in front of her, slowly slipping. I cringe.

"You don't know who I am! You don't know what I can do!" My voice echoes through the empty hallways. "You've seen too much!" I take a step forward, hesitant. She's seen too much, I assure myself.

"No, Peter, no, you can't do this to me! I-" Her voice is weak, cowardly. Shh... I say to myself, ordering my thoughts to calm down.

And with a sinful bang from my pistol, Sara falls to the ground. My own sister.

I step back, taking in the light of the moment. Smirking, I point the cold gun in my hands down at her chest once more in aghast.

"Shhh..." I murmur, consoling my inner emotion as I look at her anemic, lifeless body one last time. Then, I turn and stride out of the school gates, my gun safely tucked inside my shirt, already loaded once again to come to my aid another time.

I am not a murderer, reader. I am human. I am human, I assure you.

-

"You did what?" Ester bellows ferociously from the other side of the room. I can see his saliva dribbling down his chin. I gag. Disgusting. "Your own sister? You maniac! What will your mother say? What will we say to her?"

I hate how he used the word 'we'. We are not in this together. I would never side with this loathsome devil. "She saw the rituals." I reply calmly, applying some butter to the bread in my hand. Knives are the best resources: kill, eat, carve, butter.

I can feel him heavily breathing right behind my back. "The rituals?"

"Yes. Why else would I do something like that?"

"How did Sara get there?"

I sigh, "I don't know how she got to the location."

"And you left her body on the ground." Ester pauses, his breathing heavy. "In the hallway at your school? Boy! Are you out of your bloody mind?"

Grief dances around me silently; it flutters away almost immediately as he grabs my elbow, his fingers poking into my skin. God, when did he last cut his nails? His ginormous hairy hands clutch onto the back of mine, my shirt stretching onto that side.

"Calm down Ester. I left no clues. Not a trace. All the cameras were off and I cleaned the spot." He digs his filthy hands into it further. My elbow now hurts.

"And you are sure of that?" Ester asks, his mouth awfully close to my ear.

I finally turn around in annoyance- and having made my dinner-and say "Yes, Ester. I've been doing this since last year and I'm pretty sure I know how to do it now."

Be calm, Peter, he hates it when you're calm.

The doorbell rings a little further away from us. He grunts unsurely and lets me go. I shrug my shirt back on and find myself a chair at the table.

The atmosphere in the house changes the moment she enters. The giant now smiles broadly and happily slides her into his arm, taking her bags of grocery in the other. She shuffles into him, her small, fragile body leaning onto his large shape. What does she see in a man like him?

I mimic puking noises from at the table. Guess I wasn't quiet enough. Mom immediately lets him go, and glided her pale, lean body over to me. She's getting weaker.

"There you are! How was school today?" She asks with an over-enthusiastic voice, planting a kiss on my forehead. As she pulls me up to my full height, my face resting on top of her soft, graying hair, a gust of guilt for what I did today passes through.

I push it away immediately. I would have time to deal with that later; there is something more important I have to focus on right now. I wrap my arms around her and breathe in her rose-y smell. She suddenly loosens her grip around my waist.

"Wait, where's Sara?" Her soft, normally worriless features turned into a crease. She pulls away from me. I don't want to worry her.

"She's over at one of her friend's houses tonight. Probably will stay the weekend." I say, the lie rolling off my tongue smoothly. I lie convincingly.

"Oh well. At least she could have told me."

I can practically hear my step-father at the door, fuming through his facade of happiness, trying, hopelessly, to retain his forged smile. The muscles in my back tense.

This is going to be a very long night.