~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~ The worst part is knowing that I could have done something, anything, to stop this horror. But I didn't. I stand, stock still in the shadows, paralyzed with fear, as I watch his knife slice cleanly through my father. Blood spatters against the wall and flows to the floor, creating crimson stains that would stay there for eternity. I watch in terror as my mother sails through the air, limp as a rag doll, and crashes against the wall where she lays in a heap of tangled limbs. My sister's head is bent at an unnatural angle. It had snapped back with an echoing crack. The man, clad in black, sheaths his knife. He turns to leave, but not before I see the light shining on his face, a hardened mask. His eyes are cold and uncaring. The merciless murderer grimly smiles, then stomps out. I still can't move. Why? Why are there cruel people like him in the world? Why are there cowardly people like me in the world? I didn't do anything to help. And now three corpses are slumped in my living room. A shudder ripples through my body. Another one. And another one. I'm on the floor now, not even sure how I got here. Sobs tear through my body. I'm helpless to the sorrow. I can't stop it. I think of my mom's kind, smiling face, handing me cookies she baked herself. My dad, when I was little, picking me up and spinning me around. And my sister, laughing with me for hours. There would be no more of that. I glance my tearstained face up and see the front door. They'll never walk through it again. I'll never peek through it to see their grinning faces popping out to surprise me. That brings on another round of wails. Why couldn't I have ran to him, done something to stop the murder? I'm useless. Teardrops. Dainty, delicate shapes. It used to be my favorite style to get my jewelry in. I loved the elegance of them. Funny how something that beautiful can signify something so ugly. Sorrow. Depression. It's raw and twisted, something no one wants. Including me. It occurs to me that no one knows about this. In a few hours, my slumbering town will rise. They'll continue on with their lives, ignorant of the appalling murder. There's no one I can go to. None of them know my family. We're the new people who moved into that creepy house down the street. Their death is insignificant. Not many will know about it, even less will care. After all, what's it to them? The small news story they quickly flip past, looking for some interesting channel to watch. They'll never receive the chance to meet my father's outgoing personality. They'll never get helped by my mother's kindness. They'll never benefit from my sister's charitable work. The sorrow is too overwhelming. It almost swallows me up. I feel like I'm drowning in depression. I weep for hours, until I suddenly stop. I'm dried out of tears. I rock back and forth, waiting. I will wait patiently for death to claim me, for when I can be reunited with my family and tell them how sorry I am for doing nothing. Nothing. I did nothing. As I realize that, another thought comes to me. Shouldn't I do something? Shouldn't I hunt down the killer and avenge the death of my family? Yes, I should. But I can't. I can't leave my family, and I can't get up. One step seems like a mile. Focus on the future, not the past, because better days lie ahead. My grandmother's voice echoes in my head. Those were her final words as she lay weakly on her deathbed. How true that phrase had seemed to me at the time. But now… all I want is to stay pathetically on the hard wooden flood. Serena, you have to trust me. Keep going. Stay strong. Don't give up. Fine. I sigh softly. I will get up, but only for her. I slowly stand up and straighten my legs. I feel numb, unresponsive. Darting my eyes wildly around, I stagger to the door and stumble out onto the dark streets. I will kill that murderer for vengeance. But the sorrow is too much to bear. I look around and find a large rock. Amnesia. If I can hit myself on the head, perhaps I will be able to forget everything. And I can search for him with a blank mind. But I will do it in silence. "Goodbye," I whisper. Those will be the last words I utter. I won't say anything else. I will be mute. I will be silenced. Goodbye. ~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~<>~
Sky, it's a one-shot. I'm not going to continue it. I was just bored and felt like writing… because I have no inspiration for my other stories.
Yeah, that's why I think one-shots are going to be the best for me. Someday, I'll finish my other ones. I have a great plot for Gifted, but I just don't feel like writing.
That gives me a best idea for a thread. Maybe we could both make a One~ Shot thread! For everyone who feels like writing.