*Magnify*
SPONSORED LINKS
Creative fun in
the palm of your hand.
Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2121995
Rated: E · Draft · Emotional · #2121995
A teenage girl is having an average afternoon until tragedy strikes
"Faun! Where the hell are you?!" my 'mother' hollars up the stairs, seemingly shaking all the pictures on my walls. Oh joy... I wonder what it is she wants now. She's not actually my mother, really she's my step-mother. Reluctantly I peel myself away from my book and traipse down the stairs, over exhadurating all my movements.

Arriving in the dinning room after walking through the kitchen where food has been thrown around everywhere. The attmosphere has changed within the time it took me to decend the stairs... Drastically. 'Mother' is standing in the doorway with the biggest smile on her face that I've ever seen, but that's not the most disturbing thing. Behind her I glimpse thick dark liquid pooling... "I-is that blood?!" I hear my own quaking voice questioning her. I'm not in my own body, not anymore. I'm not the one speaking. Her lips don't move but still a reply travels into my ear drums and forces them to tune into the thumping of my heart. More erratic than normal, elevated to a speed that I did not think my heart had the capacity to reach, "No?", the uncertain reply. "That is most defintiely not a question you're supposed to answer with another question..." My voice again comes out without my knowledge. Is this really happening? She sways briefly, revealling my father... I rush towards his mutilated body, abruptly stopping in my tracks when I catch sight of metal gleaming in her hand. There are drops of blood splattering the floor by her feet. In that moment I return to my body, un-freezing and bolting straight towards her with a mighty roar. Her her smile fades, eyes widen, mouth drops open forming a perfect 'O' and she quickly steps out of my way. That was the only way out, I have to remind myself feeling guilty for leaving my fathers body there in the hands of that psychotic woman. It worked though, I'm free... Ish.

My legs burn with a fire from hell but I know that I must continue, all the way to the cops, or die trying. As I dart and weave through streets and avenues I remember a phrase from the book that I was devouring earlier "Anyone can look brave with a weapon, but without? Without we are all equal and we all fear." I'm running scared like a bat from hell.

Why am I here? And by that I don't just mean, 'why am I running'. I mean why am I here. Alive. My father is dead, I have no other family or at least none that cares, so why am I here? My question rings through my mind. It's a question the bullies used to ask me and taunt me with from Year 3, when my one and only friend moved away, right the way through to Year 11. Now here I am, running from my biggest bully, granted she does have a knife and a psychotic, sick mind. Maybe I should just run back there and let her take my physical existence off my hands so that my soul can finally be free from the wretched world... I mean, why shouldn't I, I have nothing to live for anymore. All that I had was my father but now, now I don't even have him, I just have this terrible empty feeling and impending doom. Do I even have a soul to be let free anymore? I don't know, all I know is that I'm going back to that house and I don't care if I meet the same fate as my father. I don't care about anything anymore.
© Copyright 2017 Jess Faye Webb (wolfie2007 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Log in to Leave Feedback
Username:
Password:
Not a Member?
Signup right now, for free!
All accounts include:
*Bullet* FREE Email @Writing.Com!
*Bullet* FREE Portfolio Services!
Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2121995