Me

I wake up. I cannot control myself. I am heading downstairs. What is going on?

 

 

 

 

 

 

Me

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I open my eyes to darkness. I did not choose to open my eyes, what is happening? Lifting myself out of my bed, I quietly tread across my room. My eyes are like an owl’s despite the sleep still hanging on my eyelids. With a soft creak the doorknob signals my departure. Where am I going? Walking down the corridor I peer into the crack of my parent’s room. My eyes adjust to the darkness allowing me to see the view. Father snores on the left side of the bed and mother rests softly in a fetal position on the right. A memory flashes in my head. It was about mother who griped on and on about my homework: the homework that was already finished. Shut up stupid woman. Leave me alone. Those were my thoughts, thoughts that instantly dissipated when she served my favorite meal. Then my mind drifts to the memory of father’s refusal to let me drive to the movies. Who didn’t let their child hang out with some friends on a Friday? An idiot that’s who, my father is an idiot. Yet, when I got in a small accident instead of chastising me for my carelessness he instead shed tears of joy since I was safe. My parents love me, I am their irreplaceable daughter. I know this, yet what is this emotion I’m feeling right now?

I take a step back and begin to walk back to my room. The return was short-lived as it was only to grab my belt for no reason and strap it around my waist. With light feet I descend the carpeted stairs. What am I doing? It’s Saturday night, perhaps Sunday morning I should just go to sleep, where am I going? On my way to the kitchen I evade the creaky floorboards. Strange, I’m not hungry. I walk to the drawer and pull out the large chef knife and cleaver. Carefully I carefully place the chef knife to my side and give the cleaver a practice swing. Satisfied I begin to walk upstairs. Wait. Satisfied? Why? Why am I going upstairs? Shut up and just sit back and watch. Huh? Who are you? A dark humanoid apparition appears next to me. The being glances at me with its hollowed-out eyes and scoffs, Like I said shut up. Like a mantis approaching its prey I scutter upstairs. I peek into my parents’ room again, no change. After a short pause my body mutely slithers in. The blood drains from my face as the realization sinks in. Wait! Stop I’m not controlling my body! I struggle against the apparition. The only indication of my efforts was a twitch from my left hand before it pushes me away. My body makes its way to the left side of the bed eyeing the sleeping figures warily. My eyes search the sleeping man’s body and decide upon a spot. Yes, the neck seems like the most ideal location. Even if I fail he’ll be can’t scream for help. Stop! You can’t do this! I struggle for control but am rendered helpless as the shadow pins me to the ground. Both of my hands grip the cleaver tightly and raise it over my head. I shout. Nooooo!!!! The figure faces me with its hollow eyes and gives me a malicious grin. It immediately swings down on the man’s neck. The being’s grip slackened so I use this as a chance, and attack. My interference causes the blade to graze across the sleeper’s throat. Father wakes with a jolt and tries to make a shout but could only manage a choked gurgle. It takes him a second to register the situation but when he does the cleaver slashes through his arteries, splattering the bedsheets in crimson water. After the sixth whack, he is rendered motionless except for the minor twitches produced by his leg. His head is barely connected to the torso by a thin strand of nerves. My eyes flow with tears. But before I could even register a single response my body lunges at the now awake and extremely panicked woman. Mother run! Dropping the slippery cleaver, in a single fluid motion, my left hand wraps around the woman’s mouth before she is able to scream and my right hand procures a sharp chef’s knife. The knife impales her esophagus and she chokes on her blood. In a fluid motion the knife leaves her neck and finds its way into her chest. I sit on top of the helpless woman and continuously stab chest. Thunk. Shluck. Thunk. Shluck. Thunk. Shluck. Like a piston my arms just keep stabbing the woman, until the light fades from her tear-filled eyes. At the sight of the room stained in the black sea of murder I scream. My body however remains silent, coldly examining the bodies to make a final confirmation that they were dead. I weep over the murder of my parents. The shadow laughs at me. It taunts me by picking up my father’s decapitated head and placing it on my mother’s stomach. The limp arms cradle it like a child. I howl in anguish I struggle fruitlessly like a beetle with its abdomen crushed against the ground. During this time my body picks itself up and retrieves my father’s toolset from the garage. The shadow laughs, I’ll be taking this, I don’t think he’ll need them anyways. I fall helplessly to the side in utter defeat. Within the toolbox I take a hammer. I could take the nails, but if I take them now the rattling might wake her. I’ll come back for them. My eyes spring wide open, wait… her?

My eyes widen as my mouth is agape. No! Stop! Not her! She did nothing wrong! I’m not even remotely angry at her! My legs move through the will of the shadow and walk past my room. I struggle intensely however the shadow wrestles me into submission. I peer inside to see my sleeping sister. With renewed vigor, I beat back the shadow in a desperate surge to regain control, causing me to falter in my step. The obsidian tentacles retaliate by ripping my arm clean off my body. I grit my teeth as my body takes another step towards her. I attack again, but he was prepared this time. Blades of darkness slash through my legs and everything above my knees crash into the ground. I am next to her, looking down on her serene sleeping face. The shadow mercilessly breaks my fingers and gouges out my right eye. Its flashes its blood ruby teeth at me and whispers with dark delight. Whisper your last words to her. For a single moment I regain full control of my body, however, I no longer attempt to struggle. He is the guillotine and I am the king, in the end my fate would be the same. So I look down on my beloved sister, and whisper,

“Forgive me.”

 A single tear of blood falls on her face, causing her to open her eyes in a daze, “Sis what are you doing here?” The monster smiles with glee as he brings down the hammer. Crunch!

He flings my bleeding unconscious sister over my shoulder and turns to my pathetic shredded body on the ground. Going down on one knee he looms over me and speaks. I am going to kill you now. And after that I am going to torture your sister to death now. It will be slow and painful. Then I’m going to kill and torture. Kill and torture until the day the heart is this body stops. He says this in his usual raspy voice, yet his eyes are far away and he sounds almost melancholic? Do you understand? Helpless, I tilt my head, acknowledging his words. He looks at me with a glimmer of pity and asks. You look like you want to say something.  Is there anything that you want to ask before I kill you? In that instant out of the millions of questions that floated through my head I only asked one, “Who are you?”

The shadow then morphs into a familiar figure, an adolescent girl with long hazel hair and kind almond eyes.

“I am you.”

Looking down at me, I say.

“You are me.”

I know what this emotion is now. It is the emotion that made my heart pump with adrenaline as I killed my parents. It was the emotion that made me smile while I hurt my sister. It is excitement.

 

 

 

 

 

In the abyss I recall a certain memory, a memory that seemed almost like an eternity ago. I was at his house. He was my friend. He showed me his puppy. He asked me if I wanted to see something cool. With a large stone he painted it red. The screams were horrible and I covered my ears. I asked him why he did it. With a smile he told me that it was to preserve its beauty in his mind forever. It was to never let his good memories of it disappear.

I ran away from him. He never came to school again. He didn’t need to. The seed was planted. It was too late. I tried my hardest to bury the seed. I buried it so deeply so that it could never be seen again. But that only made it grow stronger and larger. It was too late. It was all too late.

Author's Note

What did you think of the dialogue?