Wake up.

Pee.

Wash hands.

Wash face.

Brush teeth.

Change clothes.

Wake parents.

Drive to school.

Somehow get through morning classes.

Lunch.(Kick Johnny for presumably perving on me)

Somehow get through afternoon classes.

Wait outside for parents to pick me up.

Go home.

Do homework.

Eat.

Shower.

Sleep.

That's pretty much my every day schedule. It's boring, yes ,but efficient enough. Until a few days ago, I considered myself a normal sixteen year old girl. Until a few days ago, I didn't consider myself a happy girl with a loving family and everything she could ever want. I didn't think about it once. And now...my parents are dead and I'm all alone. Yeah, call me bitter. Call me a cold-hearted bitch. Call me a selfish little prick. Call me an undeserving, ungrateful, dumb, stupid, hateful freak. Call me anything that you can think of right now. Because, I agree. I am. I am every single one of those things. I don't even remember how any of it happened. All I can remember is blood, blood, blood, so much so much blood. Waking up in the middle of the night from the best sleep I've ever had. It disturbs me now how I slept so well while on the other side of the wall, my parents were being murdered.

Plaster and paint.

That's all that kept me from them. They must've screamed. Begged. Cried out.

But, no.

I didn't hear a DAMN THING.

I could recall to you every detail of that night. Waking up, sliding out of bed, my feet touching the cold hardwood floor-it's all too clear.

TOO CLEAR.

Why is it so clear?

Walking out into the hall, my footsteps too loud.

Too fucking loud.

Then seeing light-a dim light that seemed to resonate catastrophe-it streamed from their door. It was wide open. My feet didn't stop, it seemed like a path had already been carved out for it. Closer, closer, closer. A shadowy figure was blurred in the muggy light. Or maybe that was just my vision. Closer...until I was almost at the threshold. The shadow was gone. One step into the doorway. Suddenly I was abrupt and detached, ripped from reality. My vision was stained the dark crimson of spilt blood. Hell was inside that room. Blood pooled at my feet like crimson ink. And it was so still that I could see the dawning horror creeping up onto me like a blood-red sunset. My feet still moved like it was automatic. I knew, I did, I know I did… But I kept going… Until I was at their bedside… And then I saw…what I saw… An animalistic scream ripped through my lungs and I fell. I fell down with a splash. I just lay there for God knows how long.

That's how the cops found me.

Covered in my parents' mingling blood. For all they knew, I was dead, too.

I wish I was.

With all my heart.

Because now I can't sleep or eat or live without seeing that image. It's driving me crazy and sleeping is torture now. I can't close my eyes without seeing their bodies, broken and unrecognizable. The blood is all over me sometimes, more often than not. Their ghosts follow me into my dreams and sometimes when I wake up, they're at my bedside. Smiling with bloodstained teeth and nodding with bobbing heads like-

I want to die!

I can't live anymore!

I want to scream and scream until my lungs give out.

I want to go back in time and maybe do something differently.

Maybe double-check the alarm or call the police ahead of time.

Wake them up, check on them, protect them.

I could've saved them.

It echoes in my head over and over and over.

I could have saved them.

Short,sweet and to the point.

Don't 'll be more coming.

This is just Anita's POV.