A dark, musty aroma spread in to the thick atmosphere of the room. A room steeped in fringed silence, laid the bodies of my dead parents.
My vision clouded by tears, tears that stained my pain stricken face.
I was treated like a scrap of worthless paper by them, my life a miserable existence for them to toy with.
I stared at my parent's lifeless, crimson covered bodies, drained of blood.
They lay strewn across the murky floorboards within a metre of me.
"They drove me to this, it was their entire fault" I whispered, glaring down at my crimson red stained hands and my crisp white shirt drenched with their blood.
My younger sister danced in to the room to see what all of the screaming was about. She stopped, blinked twice and screamedat the sight before her.
My body sat bolt upright against the wall, the stainless steel carving knife only just slipping out of my limp hand. Staring, glaring in to my eyes.
"Penelope…what have you done?" she slowly whispered.
"Abigail, they forced me, they toyed with my life…" I repeated slowly to my sister.
"Forced…? Toyed…?" she whispered back, still not believing what her sister had said and done to their parents.
"Both Mother and Father made my life a living hell, I lived an irregular life but you lived an even life. You were the favoured daughter, forever and always. I was trapped like a mouse in a cage, never allowed to come out in case I caused chaos or harm to anyone I came in to contact with. In contrast to me, you were a show cat that had all of the attention and pampered every second since you were born, you obeyed their every word" I said in a trance like voice.
"Pen…" my sister couldn't finish my name.
"I knew you wouldn't understand…" I moved my eyes for the first time as I shifted them around the same murky atmosphered room.
I heard the shuffle of light soled shoes on the blood-drenched floor boards, the thick red substance had spread further across the room, and my sister has disappeared from my sight forever.
I tried to recall the scene of myself killing my parents, trying to remember what had driven me to kill them? But my memory wouldn't replay the scene. Then eventually my defensive mechanism in my brain decided it was safe enough. My memory played the scene as I stared at my reflection in the full length mirror with blood smeared over the reflective surface, reflecting back on what had happened:
"Pen, we have a surprise for you" my father said and I could tell he was smiling that sweet and sickly smile; but Pen was a name that I hated.
"Darling, come in here quick!" my mother shouted excitedly.
"One minute mother, father, I am in the kitchen at the moment." I shouted back and left the room, but not before picking up the large carving knife and slid it in to my track suit pocket being careful not to cut it open or to scratch the top of my leg.
I walked through my dimly lit house and climbed the vast oak stairs; it had been carved by a friend of the family. The carver told me a story of a strange family, with two daughters who had been treated very differently. One daughter had anything she wished for and pampered every second and the other was locked in her bedroom. She was only to be allowed out for mealtimes; any other time she had to ask for permission. But the wood carver vanished and never completed the staircase. Furthermore he didn't finish his story, and that day he vanished in to thin air or so it had seemed that way.
I stopped on the first tread of the stairs to think, and whispered to myself:
"My life isn't far different to the story he told me. I wonder what happened in the end to the daughter who was locked away and the carver." But then thought nothing more of it…
I shrugged my shoulders then I started to ascend and searched the rooms to find my parents. They were in the only room in the house with old decrepit wood flooring. For some strange reason I smelt burning coming from the room.
"Mother? Father?" I questioned and opened the door.
"Surprise!" they shouted together with joy.
My eyes scanned the room to find my oldest, most treasured belongings, including my diary (which included the way I was being treated and what happened in my past) and my first cuddly toy that I had bought without them knowing. The flames danced over my precious items.
"No!" I screeched sliding to a halt in front of the fireplace, my hands covering my face as tears flowed down my cheeks.
"Darling, we simply had to burn these things, they were cluttering up your room." My mother said with a simple but monotone voice and then grimacing.
"Yes, we have burnt many so called important things already – all of your diaries with information about us have been burnt." He joined in with the same monotone voice as my mother; they both stared at the fire with sadistic smiles creeping on to their faces.
I couldn't help but cry at the sight of my belongings being torched by them, remembering I still had the knife in my pocket I started to whisper to them:
"Mother, Father, remember this before you die, you're the ones that made me do this. You treated me like a scrap of worthless paper. Now it's your turn to feel the pain I have endured for many years."
"P-pen, what do you mean?" my father stuttered, he looked very worried as did my mother.
"Am I an unwanted child?" I screeched
"Of course you are; you were a mistake that we made! It turned into an experiment for our enjoyment!" he confessed and held hands with mother.
"Mother is this true?" I exclaimed, absolutely shocked.
"Well, we couldn't test it on poor little Abi, she's a perfect angel unlike you!" she declared with a look of disgust that washed over her face as she scowled at me.
My heart was racing as she calmly told me this information; my next question had to be:
"Where did you get the idea from?"
"Well, remember your father's friend, the carver? He told your father about a strange family where the daughter murdered her parents. We didn't want you to hear the end of the story, so we hired a private investigator to hunt him down and kill him." She smiled as she was reliving the story, as if it was a happy memory.
I just stared at her, my eyes blood shot from crying for my belongings and the things she had said; not a word would escape my lips. I could not speak. My eyes wouldn't move, they just stared at the mound of burnt paper and material still alit in the fireplace. My face took all of the heat and I could feel the anger rising up inside me. My father caught me by the arm and pulled me up roughly and shouted:
"You worthless child, you couldn't hurt us unless you have the mind of a devil." He laughed mercilessly and threw me across the room, my body shattered as it crashed against the wall. The knife in my pocket sliced through the inside material of my trousers and in to my leg, I winced at the pain and reached forward to pull the knife out of my leg.
I ignored the pain of my limb and held the kitchen knife saturated with my blood. I stood up shaking and shouted:
"You will die!"
I ran towards my father and as he turned around lifted the implement to his neck and before he could speak I cut the vein in his neck…
He fell back clutching his neck as the blood erupted out; his eyes stared at me and then softly closed. I moved towards him and continued severe his wrists.
While I was undertaking this 'job', my mother was frozen in a spot about a metre away.
"He's dead" I said quietly almost in hysterics and turned to face my fazed mother…. I could tell she was petrified.
I retained the same sadistic smile as she had earlier and advanced towards her, my father's blood covered my hands and the knife in my dainty fingertips.
"Please put the knife down" She whispered pleading for her life.
"No mother, you must die as well" I screeched back.
She stood in silence in the very same spot and I spoke first:
"It will be quite painless you know" I sighed and tapped the knife against my leg and then remembered the pain. I ran towards and did the same to her as I had done with my father.
I stumbled back and hit the wall; tears escaped me and clouded my vision once more.
That was the beginning of my Endless Night.
So what do you think~?
Constructive criticism only please!