The Perfect Murder

12th February 2011 - My birthday, the Day I Died

12th February 2011 – My birthday, the Day I Died

I take a glance at my lavish golden Rolex; a gift received from my parents on my last birthday. The hands stare back at me, showing eleven past nine. Strange, how long does it take to wrap up a few presents? They should have finished by now. I briskly head up the ornate spiral staircase with a familiar ghostly feeling in the pit of my stomach. I jokingly warn

"I'm coming, ready or not, hide the presents!"

But only a deathly silence answers.

Reaching the top, I head for my parents' bedroom. I knock on the door and warn once more but as before, my only response is silence. I slowly edge the door open and walk into the lifeless bedroom, almost blinded by the intense rays of sunlight peering through the windows. As I glance around the exquisitely decorated room I am bewildered by wrapping paper lying on the elegant four-poster bed, and next to it, a small, fancy box. I pick it up for further inspection. Closely examining it, I admire the intricate gold patterns flowing around the dark box. Finally, giving in to my immense curiosity, I delicately open it, revealing a luxurious golden ring. Hand-crafted with a polished finish, I read the words, "For a wonderful son", engraved on the enticing gold. Coming to my senses, I quickly shut the box and replace it pretending nothing has occurred.

As I slowly walk out the bedroom, I notice a crimson shape oozing out beneath the locked bathroom door at the end of the corridor. I wearily step closer and am whipped into panic as I realise what it must be. Frantically, I run towards it feeling the seconds stretch into hours, dreading what I might encounter, with every step I dive deeper into my panic. When finally reaching it I am lost in a frenzy of fear. I smash my bare fist against the cold wood which looks blankly at me and responds with a dull thud. I scream at my parents but for the third time I am answered with a sickening silence. Taking several steps back, I prepare myself to force it open but my entire body is trembling, my limbs moving on their own accord. I desperately try to calm myself. Looking once more at the door it sneers back at me and I charge at it bracing my right shoulder, I collide with the stubborn wood and feel my muscles flexing against it.

Finally, with a powerful heave, it begins to give way and slowly buckles beneath my strength. As I stumble into the room, my shoes make a repulsive squelch. I find myself being greeted by a sight belonging to a horror film. As I look down, jagged shards of ice stab my heart, my face cringes as tears begin to flood my eyes.