Written by FuturePresentPast
The echo of the gunshot rings in my ears, but I barely hear it.
Lady Tavrell screams, and falls to her knees with a loud thump, but I remain deaf to her grief.
Dylan falls on top of Lord Tavrell's lifeless body, gasping loudly for air, finally free of his chokehold.
Horace starts to cough, loudly.
I hear none of it.
All I do hear is my own heavy breathing, and the echoing clatter of the gun as it falls from my hand onto the floor. My entire left hand is shaking, still bruised from the harsh recoil of the pistol. This can't be real- I'm dreaming, aren't I?
I didn't shoot someone- I'm not a murderer, am I?
Because this can't be happening- this is crazy, mad, unrealistic. Just a normal kid like me? No way. No chance. This isn't happening. Because stuff like this only happened in books right? Those stories from the old world supposedly aimed at kids. That's what's happening to me. Just a story, just a tale. Nothing like this happens in real life, not to someone normal like me. Me? A murderer? That can't be possible. It's too unrealistic. It's all made up- just a crazy dream. 'Cause in a second I'm going to wake up yeah? Like pinch myself or something. That's it- so easy. Just pinch myself and everything will disappear. It's just a dream Clara- it's just a bloody dream. It's all going to be okay because this isn't really happening, is it? I'm not a murderer. Not a chance. You got the wrong person- I didn't do it. I'm not a criminal. I'm not going to prison. It wasn't even me yeah? I didn't pull that trigger. It was a dream. IT WAS A DREAM!
"Clara?" Dylan's face is no longer purple, and his breathing has returned back to normal, but he's looking at me like I'm mad.
"Wait... I- I said that... out loud? " I fumble over my words.
Dylan nods. "All of it."
It is then that I realise I'm crying- my face is streaked with tears. I feel them, cooling my cheeks.
"I-I... killed him? It was me?" I sob.
Dylan nods solemnly, his eyes desperately avoiding my gaze.
"I didn't mean to," my voice has an absent tone to it. Like it isn't really me speaking, only some soulless representation. A shell.
Maybe that's all you are, when you're a murderer. A shell. Empty.
Dylan starts speaking again, but I hear nothing.
All I hear is the gunshot. Well, that and a gut- wrenching sob.
Lady Tavrell kneels on the floor next to her husband's still-warm corpse, sobbing into his white shirt.
I feel sick- what have I done?
What have I done?
I don't notice when Horace starts to cough. What I do notice, however, is when his coughs start bringing up blood. My eyes widen, and so do Dylan's. I stare at him- he stares back.
"No." I don't know whether that was me or Dylan.
We run over to him, trying to wipe the blood from his face. Dylan and I use all our strength to lift him into a sitting position, propped up against the wall. Horace continues to choke up blood, but is still just about breathing.
"Horace?" I battle to keep his attention- he seems intent on ignoring us.
He moves his hand from his chest, which I now notice is sticky with blood, revealing a small pocket sized razor blade protruding from his body.
YOU ARE READING
Dimensions
Science FictionHumans always believed that there was nothing before the Big Bang. They were wrong. Before, there were two races living in harmony. The humans, and the red skinned, humanoid aliens that were the Deviann. But then they disappeared. A massive explosio...
