Image Free Write

4(Part 2)

Sander
~~~~
I lived a normal childhood, with a normal family in a normal neighborhood. Nothing really ever happened, even if it did, it would all balance out. Like crimes or even when they're too much happiness.

One day my father came home strange, he had messy clothes, smeared lipstick over his face, and a different smell from usial. He walked differently inside and collapsed on the couch, I looked at him strangely. I was only five years old, playing with my action figures. My mother walked in, holding a cleaning rag, with a worried look plastered on her face.

"Dear, are you okay," she questioned and sat right next to him. She placed her hand on his cheek but he only smacked it away.

"Don't touch me, you whore!" He spurred before walking to their room. I walked up to my mom and sat in her lap. I looked at my mom in her eyes before giving her a tight hug. My father hasn't been present much in my life even if it is, it's not for long. He's an actor, he's been busy shooting movies like Sky Fall and The Murder Of Mr. Connolly. My mother works from home, she's either in the living room or in her art studio. She's an artist, more specifically a painter.  Sometimes she paints random things or portraits of people. Sometimes when she's free, she gives me lessons and slowly, I'm improving. The tension between my parents has gotten worse in three weeks.

One day he snapped, causing hell in our home. He had gone home drunk as usual with a girl slung over his shoulder. My mother rushed out of the kitchen and confronted him

"So this is what you're doing. Going behind my back when we are childhood sweethearts," my mother hissed. I peaked out of the kitchen, staying hidden watching the two argue.

"Uggh, whatever you fucking hoe," he slurred, "you were boring anyway." Something had ticked him off and he swung at my mother. She fell back while the hoochie walked cover to the counter, nearly seeing me. I continued to watch, afraid of what he'll do if I intervene. Tables and chairs were thrown over the place, breaking our peaceful home and neighborhood. During the fight, the hoochie decided to walk to the kitchen. I ran and hid in the behind a wall eyeing her. She decided to open the special cabinet, what my mother and father would drink on special occasions. I grew angry when she grabbed my mother's favorite wine and poured herself a glass. She took a sip and watched the fight from there.

I felt enraged even more, to see that my father was hurting mother and I knew that something had to be done. Something had caught my eye in the distance, it shined bright like the stars. I slowly made my way to the object but only to make sure the hoochie wasn't looking at me. When I got closer, it was a knife, the one mother was using to prepare dinner. I stood on my tippytoes and grabbed the knife, being careful trying to not drop it or cut myself. I slowly started to creep towards her, raising the knife above my head. I kicked her hard on the shin which made her fall on her back.

"Ahh," she let out a fake scream when she crashed onto the floor. I walked towards her head and glared down her.

"You brat," she hissed. The hoochie was about to stand up but I slit her throat. Her eyes widened in my actions. She grabbed her throat to try to slow down the process, she reached out towards the direction of the fight and yell but she was choking on her own blood. A few moments have gone by and she died, I then focused on the main cause, my father. My mind was clouded on trying to end his life I didn't think of consequences. I stepped out of the kitchen, blood splattered on parts of my face and clothes, my father didn't notice me but my mother did.

I looked at her in horror, she was on the ground, bruises all over her face and cuts seeping through her clothes. My grip on the knife tightened to see the pain my father has inflicted on my mother. I silently started to creep on my father who was currently straddling my mother, pinning her hands above her head with one hand. I started to run towards him, with the knife raised towards my side. I was about to strike him when he quickly turned and struck me making me fall back. I landed near the wall near the kitchen, my bones were aching until I saw a shower loom over me.

"Soooo, you think *hic* you could killll *hic* me," my father slurred. I faced turned into disgust seeing him like this, I don't want to see him anymore. He was about to strike me when my mother called out.

"STOP! Don't hurt him, he's only a child," he mother whimpered. I looked at her and saw it was hard for her to speak, I paid close attention and saw that there were handmarks around her neck from my father trying to choke her. I grew tired, and slowly stood up and kept my grip on the knife firm.

He bent down towards my face and gave me the disgusted look, "You're not going to do shit." Bending down to eye level was a very bad idea because I swung at his face, striking both of his eyes. He stumbled backward while holding his face and I took the opportunity to strike his shins, making me fall to the ground. I then ran up to him and stabbed him in the heart, the place where he has broken my mother's heart. I watched as he tried to pull the knife out but it wouldn't budge. I stared at him for a bit until I ran over to my mother who was shocked in horror. I grabbed a nearby rag to apply to the wounds but she stared at my father. I didn't know what was going on until she crawled to father and cried on his chest.

"N-no, no this can't be happening," she mumbled. She looked up and stared at me with regret and disgust. "Why, WHY did you do this to your father!" I didn't understand, I helped her from being beaten and now she did this. Something in my head told me to do it, I looked over towards the wall and saw a vase that hasn't been destroyed during the fight and went over to grab it without my mother knowing. I went over to her with the vase raised over my head and when she turned around, I smashed it hard on her head killing her.

I then went to my room to remove any existence that I was there and anything else in the house. I was never exposed to society so they never knew I existed, even my grandparents. So I took this opprotunity to an advantage. I then poured oil onto the bodies and wherever has any traces of blood. I grabbed the hand lighter and took a glance at the bodies and realized something, that they were a beautiful piece of artwork.

I went and grabbed paint and paintbrushes before painting and setting it outside far away from the building. I stood outside where the oil trail ends and flicked the lighter before setting the oil on the fire. I watched as the fire lit the oil and made its way towards the house. A couple of minutes went by and the while house was engulfed in flame. I walked over to the painting to see that it was almost done drying and I left with my things, leaving the painting there.

~~~~~~~
15 years had gone by since the incident and murder hit headlines. No one could connect the tie because I had changed my last name to Anderson and moved states. I still commit my acts but under my old name to make my name known as my parents. But today was different, I wanted an accomplice, someone to join me in my acts. So I went on this dating site and got matched up with Ivy, judging by her name, she was going to be just fine.