She didn't hear me coming.
The boom of the thunder roaring in the skies above and the splatter of rain on the pavement below covered my enterance, as it will cover my escape, if all goes well. The back door quietly closes behind me, and I finally exhale a short, quiet breath. The house was cold and silent, but I knew it wasn't empty. I had watched the lady who owns this house carry her small child inside earlier this evening.
These two weren't the first, and they certainly wouldn't be the last.
Checking the first floor was easy; kitchen, living room, bathroom, storage room stacked to the roof with brown cardboard boxes filled with who knew what. The second floor was slightly more interesting; large master bedroom crammed with furniture, a wall of windows directed towards the dark forestry on the edge of the town, and a small bed holding a sleeping beauty.
Hair tangled into a mess, eyes lightly closed, mouth parted only slightly. She was completely unaware of Death looming over her helpless body. Where is the child, I wonder? I asked myself, wiping my knife clean as I placed it upon her collarbone. May this be a quick death.
~~~~~
Why is it raining so much? I wondered, standing beside my bedroom window, arms crossed over my chest, listening to the rain fall to the pavement outside. How am I going to get sleep?
I needed to try...didn't I? I crawled atop the covers and flopped onto my back, only to stare up at my whitewashed ceiling. The paint was dry and flaking; a sign that the entire room needed to be repained at as soon as possible. Aside from the falling rain, I was able to hear my Parents downstairs.
By the sounds of things, Father had returned home once again late, sopping wet and drunk, smelling of perfume. Mother had already began screaming at him, ranting on about how he should be a better authority figure towards me. I didn't want to hear it. I didn't want to listen, but I knew I couldn't stop myself. Why? This wasn't the first night Father had come home in that condition. Hell, I had the times scribbled onto a piece of paper tucked under my mattress--this was the thirteenth time he had come back like this.
Thirteen wasted nights full of shots, strippers, dancing, and disappointments towards his Family. I covered my head with my pillow, and softly sobbed.
It must have gone on for hours... I didn't keep track of the time, there was no way I could stop myself from crying. That is, until, I heard the front door slam shut. And in those five seconds between the door opening and being slammed shut, I heard the faintest of screams through the rain.
