writing dump

1 -- i stared out the window of the room i was trapped in

i stared out the window of the room i was trapped in. it wasn't locked. no, if anything, the door was wide open. its just that i didn't have the will to step out. i was too tired to even breathe. each breath i took made me want to suffocate. each breath expanding my ribcage more than it should. my ribs hurt, it was maybe not my breathing, maybe because i fell today. but it hurt, and i didn't want to breathe anymore. my heart beat was slow, but there. beating away. if i stared at my wrist long enough i could see the pulse. the pulsing of my veins as the blood i loathed oh-so much flood through them. it was appalling.

i don't want to live. no. but i do. maybe because i'm a coward. too scared to just slit my wrist, to stop the heart from beating any longer. maybe i didn't want to see the loathsome blood all around me. but i was a coward. too scared to stop breathing just a moment. just one. maybe then my ribs will fall apart. maybe i will suffocate and then i will be dead.

dead. death is such a complex concept. maybe i'm too scared of what comes after it. because i don't know what will happen. i'm only human, after all. i'm terrified of death. but all too fascinated by it. but so, so terrified. so unfathomably terrified.

i wont die, though. because i am petty; a petty, miserable being, who maybe doesn't deserve this existence of mine. but i exist, and i will continue, just to spite the people who want me dead. just because of that.

my peaceful thoughts were, much to my dismay, disrupted by yelling, yelling so loud that even the walls woke up. as i attempted to decode the words yelled out, i heard a thud, a crash, and then a scream. a vase, a glass, and then a human. i should go downstairs to check. but i'm tired. but i will. i, with some of the energy that should have been used to breathe, got up, losing my breath, and balance, for a couple seconds, before starting to move. slowly. quietly. in pure silence. all the noises from downstairs had by now halted. as i got closer to the stairs, i heard a faint click. again. and again. and again and again and again.

i moved down the stairs, careful to avoid any creaks that might alert anybody of my intrusion. i had memorized every creak, every floorboard, every crack, everything that is within this house. i have lived here for a very long period of seventeen years after all. maybe the years weren't that long, maybe i just feel that way-

a gunshot. i wanted to run, but i couldn't. not when the perpetrator was standing right in front of me. my eyes weren't very quick to accept the scene in front of me. i stood there for an entire minute before i started to function again. a vase on the floor, rolling softly, a couple feet away from where i stood. a broken glass at the foot of the stairs. tainted, the glass lay in red. the vase continued rolling as it entered the same pool of red, and then ever so slightly bumped into something. or rather someone. my mother. she lay in a bath of what seemed like her own blood as her hands lay on either side of her body, her heart seemingly ripped out and placed in her palm, beating still, albeit weakly; the knife used to commit the act piercing through the middle of it. her eyes still wide open, worry still evident, staring away at something. again, someone. my father. he was, as far as i could work out, the recipient of the gunshot. he kneeled as his upper body slouched, his head hitting the top of someone's boots, dripping a few drops of blood onto them.

as i stared as those boots, i once again became aware of the clicking that kept on sounding. taunting me. taunting me to look up. and i gave in. my eyes trailed upwards. up from the expensive, black, with a hint of red now, boots to the perfectly tailored, also expensive, black, suit. my eyes paused at the source of the sound for a moment. a lighter. a hand that played with it. again. and again. and again and again and again. lighting it and then putting it out. my eyes, soon, resumed their journey and trailed further up. finally reaching his face. he had his face cocked to the side, an amused glint in his eyes and a small smirk playing on his lips.

in just a moment, he took a step back, my fathers head hitting the floor. he lit the lighter and this time, he didn't put it out. he dropped it. right onto the body of my father, which lit right up into flames, the flames quick to consume him and run to my mother to swallow her as quickly as they could. that was when i noticed another thing. gasoline. the blood mixed and the bodies drenched. if i wasn't already sure they were dead, i am now.

i forgot how to breathe. my heart to beat. my brain to think. my body to move. and, within the span of a moment, all my senses returned as i collapsed onto the stair i was standing on, my breathing rapid and shallow, my heart beating so hard that i could feel it throbbing in my entirety, my brain thinking a million thoughts in a moment. but i didn't cry. too numb to feel or too shocked, i don't know. but i didn't cry.

the unknown man smiled at me before speaking, "you weren't supposed to see that, or even be here for that matter. i was told you would currently be in school." he raised his eyebrows at me, continuing when i didn't respond, "why don't u come over here, now, huh?"

my eyes still focused on the burning bodies in front of me, wondering why the fire wasn't spreading, why there was barely any smoke, why i wasn't suffocating to death in this miserable house where i have been suffocated my entire life. i wondered if the man in front of me, the murderer, was stupid. how can i go over there when there is fire in my path? idiot.

"you can actually get over here, the fire still leaves a small path." he spoke again. he was right. there was a small path to get over to him, but i don't want to go. "want me to come get you?"

no.

once again, using the energy reserved for breathing, i got up and almost fell into the fire. somehow, i regained balance and moved towards him as he held out a hand for me to shake, "alex."

my parents are burning in this room, asshole. not the time for introductions.

i ignored his hand and introduction, eyeing him warily. he raised his hands in mock surrender, "alright, alright. come on, we have somewhere to be. your father is going to have my head." he muttered the last sentence to himself as he turned around to walk out as i stared at his retreating figure, confused.