What Emma will do for silence

The pounding in her head as she held the gun against her head. She could feel the palm of her hand on her check as the head of the gun was pointed to the ceiling. Sitting on the floor, her head wanting more. The voices spoke to her in a violent rage that was not hers. Her eyes pulled in tears as she sat there in wonder. She shook violently back and forth, her breathing shaky and unheard. How could they not noticed, her parents unsure. Of the changes in the person who was their little girl.

 

She sits there still muttering to herself. “I have done what you wanted…” She truly needed help. She was talking to herself, but that was not it, she had gotten the gun to quiet the voices, but it made them louder. All of them wanted to take a life, and she wanted to be left alone.

 

Her tears burned her bare legs. And her wrists soaked in blood from the cuts they were suppose to silent the voice as they had so many times before. Still, they were louder now. Her own blood was not enough.

 

“What do you want from me,” She cried as she shook. Lifting her head to a blurry room, she looked around. She knew her surroundings. She knew where she was, but she did not like it. “Please,” She knew the only way to make them stop. Dropping the gun to the ground it banged against the third floor, all wood with no rug made it echo through what would be known as the attic.

 

“Hey, what are you doing up there, it is almost time for dinner,” She heard her mother yell.

 

“Nothing,” She found herself then on her feet, the voice silences. Looking at her arms, blood covering her cloths. “S**t…” As much as she needed help, when the voice disappeared she did not see the point in telling them. Why would she? She was fine right. At least that was what she told herself.

 

She let out a soft sigh as she changed her cloths and took a deep breath. She smiled to herself as she danced around the old wooden attic and head down stairs, putting the gun in a trunk and walking down the stairs.

 

She was a young girl, eleven, yet she had managed to steal one of her grandfather’s guns the day before, it was all she could do to get the voice to stop. She hummed to herself as she brushed her long blond hair after her shower. She had school tomorrow. She did not like many of the people, and with that thought, the voices were back.

 

She had to ignore, she had too. A deep breath she took as she headed to the first floor and kissed her mother and father good-bye, then her twin three-month-old brother and sister a long with her two older siblings, males, seventeen, and nineteen.

 

She made her way to her room on the second floor. She got into bed, and all she could hear was the clicking of the gun, feel the grip of it in her hand. As much as she tried, she could not. She wanted to get it to stop as she grabbed the pillow and screamed into it. She wanted to jump out the window, but it was not what they wanted. The voices wanted blood, not her own.

 

“Please let me sleep,” They would not, the night seemed long as the voices cried like echoing birds and ghost howling in the wind.

 

“Feed us”

 

“Kill them”

 

“Take them”

 

“Do it”

 

“Emma does it…”

 

“Kill who… Who…” Her mind asked herself.

 

“Family”

 

“School”

 

“Everyone…”

 

“Why… Please… please… why…”

 

“Because…because…” She had gotten the only one thing. Because. Still she felt satisfied for the answer. The voices had stopped for that moment.

 

“Kill…” She woke to the hiss and her alarm. Why… she could not seem to get a break, as it seemed the gun and 27 rounds of ammo seemed to jump and bang on the floor. She were no hiding it anymore, she had to do something, but with the thought of telling the voices became painful. Killing her head and making it to where she could not move. Her mother came into the move to her hold her head, and throwing up, the girls gut hurt and her head felt as though someone had hit her with a bat, what was she to do.

 

“Emma, what is wrong?” Her mother came over.

 

“Migraine…”It was all she could get out.

 

“I will get you some Advil,” her mother told as she left the room, ignoring the throw up. Emma managed to stand as she watched her mother walk down the hall and down the stairs.

 

When she mother returned, Emma was not in the room. The clicking of a safety gun was all that was heard in the attic as Emma looked at the gun with tears.

 

Emma’s mother figured the girl was in the bathroom. She called the young girl off as she took Emma’s seventeen-year-old brother to school. The nineteen-year-old brother was already heading to collage.

 

Emma heard the cars and knew that she was their with her father and young twin siblings. “Kill them.” The voices were to powerful. She walked down stairs grabbing her bag as she put all the ammo in her backpack, dropping her books and grabbing the already loaded gun.

 

She held the gun in her little hand, but the tiny handgun was not that hard to hold. Having three rounds she had enough for her family, at least the ones as one. She hated the thought, but the voices were not let her stop. Her eyes were stuck, her facial expression stuck. She did not care anymore.

 

She walked down the hall on the second floor to the sound of crying ones. She walked in there to see her dad holding her young brother. She gun going behind her back as she looked up at him.

 

“Hey sweaty, how is your head?” He asked with a smile as he calmed his young son.

 

“Alright… Daddy?” She asked the gun behind her back.

 

“Yes?”

 

“I love you,” She told.

 

“I know yo….” He was caught as he see his young daughter pull the gun from behind her back and slowly point it at him with a shaky hand. “Emma, what are you doing?” It was all he knew to say.

 

“They want blood,” Her voice said softly and calm, a smile slowly coming to her face, her eyes filled with sadness. “I want them to leave me alone… so they want me to kill you,” She told her. Still she held the gun up, her arm steady as she slowly pressed the trigger, shooting her shocked rather. He fell to the ground with a thud, the bullet going through the man’s head and hitting a mirror.

 

The looked at her little brother who was lying on her father’s chest. She started to cry as she picked them up. “I cannot do it… Please don’t make me,” She cried.

 

“Do it,”

 

“Kill them,”

 

The voices wouldn’t leave; she did not have a choice did she? She breathed in heavy as she laid her brother next to her young sister. “Forgive me,” She cried as she dropped the gun and decided instead to smother the young twins, less pain and no blood. The voices stopped, until the heard the car coming back into the parking lot, her mother. Picking up the gun and her bag, she headed outside.

 

 

“You are still in your PJ’s and what that is,” Her mother bent down and looked down at the girl’s shoulder. “Blood?”

 

“Ketchup, I made myself a sandwich for lunch, I will go change for school,” The girl ran up the stairs the voices controlling her vision everything seemed blurry, dark and evil. She managed to find her room as she put on a pair of jeans, a long shirt, and a jacket. Tying the hair that went past her butt up into a ponytail she nodded and grabbed the back, putting the gun in-between her pants, and under her shirt. The jacket helped hid the bulky weapon.

 

“Ready,” Emma told.

 

“Get in the car,” Emma’s mother told.

 

After getting in the car Emma’s mother drove the young girl to school, where Emma waited for her mother to park before stabbing her mother with a long stake knife that she usually used to cut herself.

 

She walked into the school and headed into the office the closed thing to the only doors in and out of the school. She shot everyone in the office, until no one ran out of the door toward her. She then pulled the fire alarm, ignoring the blood ink that showed it was she.

 

She stood there cold as the students walked toward the door. She stood in front of the door loading, shooting, cocking, and pointing at people. She stood there with uneasy eyes, her mind gun with the voices practically taken over. She was fighting with herself.

 

Finally the sound of cops. She looked behind her as she kept shooting. She grabbed a young kindergartner and held the gun to the crying girl. She kept her back to the cops, but made sure they seen the gun to the girl’s head.

 

“Don’t shoot,” she heard them say, knowing that all the cops had a gun to her.

 

“Stop it,” She managed to get a hold of her eyes, tears streamed down them

 

“Please, Please stop,” She cried. Her knees bulking as she tried to put the gun down, but it would gun, and without warning, she shot the young girl. Letting her go the girl’s body fell. Emma’s widened eyes looked at the crowed as she fell to her knees and put the gun to her head. A loud screamed coming from her as she was about to click the trigger.

 

Whom she though was a cop ran up and kicked the gun from her frail hands, but as she looked, up with blurry hands it was her brother. She looked up at there nineteen year old brother who stood there with a hardened face.

 

She looked around the school as she stood up and walked toward him. “Why… I…I should die,” she screamed, noticing the voices were gone, but for how long. She pushed herself into her brother and her arms grabbed his shirt. “Brother, I… I need help…. I need them to stop,” She managed to pull her brother to his knees as her other brother puts his hand on her back.

 

After a while, her brother picked her up, she felt the cold cuffs go on her as she was put in the back of a cop car.

 

She was sent to a mental institution about a month later.

Author's Note

I write like
Raymond Chandler

I Write Like by Mémoires, journal software. Analyze your writing!

Reviews

[HorrorMaster]

Very good for a frightening story. Nice job on this.

[Jong Schrijver]

this was a frightening story but amazing nonetheless. Great job!

[Mauricio Montoya]

good job.

[Pax Analog]

Thanks for the clarifying note. ;-)

A chilling, well-executed tale, this. I won't be surprised to see your name as writing credit for a Criminal Minds or such-like show in the near future.

The whole subject matter also reopens the sobering fact files re disturbed schoolkids, younger and younger, packing cold death-dealing heat. I think "education" is dangerously out of touch, and I think kids are getting more sophisticated at unhinging. I sympathize w/the frustrations. It's what creativity is for. Parents? I dunno. Frankly, I barely comprehend breeding anymore. It's a schizoid planet, really.

Your title adds to the scary psycho effect. Strong work.

[James Bonner]

This was interesting. You are a great story teller:)

[Rain Kissed Secret]

I liked the idea behind this

[~Z]

I really loved this. I think the tone it sets is amazing, and the flow is awesome.

[nono]

Very descriptive this is beautiful unlike my stories it makes sense. I love this it's so going in my favorites!

[melissa]

nice job:)

[Wolfwind Words]

Oh my wow! This was a fantastic flow of image and action!