Just playing CoD when "phải trả nợ máu" shows somewhere. Google translate says it means must repay the blood. That sparked a story. So here's the start of it.
I was running. Running with all my might. Heart pounding. Racing a thousand miles a minute. Thundering in my ears. My baby brother's hand clutched in mine. I could hardly breathe; I could hardly see. Tears clouded my eyes, burned them. My legs, body were exhausted, starting to give out. I was starting to black out. I was going to faint at any moment. But I must go. I had to. We had to get away. Connor, my brother, was sobbing. He didn't know what was going on, but he was catching on to my ever-increasing fear. I felt a presence somewhere. I just didn't know where. Eyes were on me. I sensed it, felt it. Causing an icy cold burn on my skin as we fled from the house. But that's not real, right? They would have killed us already if they spotted ? It was just paranoia getting to me. Right? Memories assaulted my mind, invading it. The images. The images. Just this morning, Mom was flipping pancakes, wearing a Kiss the Cook apron, which Dad did do. It grossed me out as usual. They were just so lovey-dovey. They were old, but they were still in that newlywed stage. They weren't like most couples, who would have been divorced by now. It was Connor's first day of preschool. Dad was reading the newspaper at the table. Well, he was pretending to, but he was really watching Mom dance around the kitchen, humming. There were smiles on each of their faces. Bright, content smiles without a care in the world. It was just another morning. Another day. We were just a normal, average family, eating breakfast, talking, laughing with each other. Then, something smashed through the kitchen, setting off an explosion powerful enough to throw Dad and me off our seats. However, it hit Mom the hardest, torpedoing her across the kitchen, slamming against the shelf of glassware. The snap of her back. Despite all the noise, I heard it. I saw it. The shards plunging into her skin. The glass cutting up her face, her body. The blood. Oh, god, the blood. It oozed out of jagged vermillion lines etched into her skin in scarlet rivulets. Everywhere. It was everywhere. Mom, my mommy, dammit, was lying there limp like a doll, covered in bright red. There was so much. Too much. Then, Dad, he cried out. A strangled sound. A terrifying sound. A sound he never made before. He ran over to Mom and cradled her, making soft, sad noises that scared me shitless. He heaved her up quickly yet gently and turned to me, loss ravaging his face, pain eating up his eyes. The same emotions that was tearing me apart.
"Get Connor. We have to go."
Dad started to run into the living room when a sound deafened my ears and he fell. Then, I realized the sound was a gunshot. My heart stopped. I almost screamed, almost, until the next gunshot rang out, embedding itself in Dad. I shut my mouth. I stayed deathly silent. Two red circles got bigger and bigger on his clothes. Even though Dad was knocked out, his body was still crouched over Mom's in a protective position. Somehow, a wisp of reason sank in my head. This wasn't time to draw attention to myself. The shooter was still out there. I had to get Connor and get out. Tears seared my eyes. I'm sorry, Mom, Dad. As much as the agony in my chest is hurting, I had to do what I had to do. I turned the other way and dashed up the stairs silently, a gun firing again and again in the background. Now, I was running, dragging my brother along with me. We were in the woods, dodging tree after tree. Branch after branch. Most of the time, the branches whipped my face, taking strips of skin with them, leaving vermillion stripes on my cheeks.
"Sara, where are Mommy and Daddy?" I closed my eyes, emotions rising, tears nearly overwhelming me. No, I couldn't. My eyes were needed. Survive. Escape. That was all. Then, I could break down all I wanted. "Aren't they coming with us?" I opened them again. His voice sounded small, scared. It was... heartbreaking. It tore my heart to shreds. The pain growing larger and larger, being all-consuming. The urge to cry rose up again. My consciousness was getting blurry. But I had to keep going. We had to keep going. We had to get away. The killer can't be very far. Even now, I felt like we were being watched. I could feel eyes on me from somewhere. Someone was hiding, watching. They were waiting for us to tire ourselves. They'd play around with us, terrify us, before they murder us. They could be hiding behind that tree over there. I strained my eyes. No one was there. I looked behind me. Nothing. I'm being paranoid. Why would so many people want to hunt us down? We were just an average family. Right?
"Don't you see? We're going to Mom and Dad. We're going to them." Even, I could hear the hysterical edge to the words.
Connor dug his feet in and jerked out of my sweaty grip. Fear struck another blow at me. My blood ran cold. We had to go.
"I want Mommy. I'm going back," he cried, tears shimmering in his eyes. He was scared. He was scared, dammit. I had to calm down. I need to keep my emotion in check. The only thing I was doing was scaring him unnecessarily. I had to suck it up.
"Mom and Dad are really over there. I'll show you," I said, controlling my voice. Serious. Calm. Friendly. That was what I was aiming for.
"Really?" He looked up at me, wide-eyed and still a little scared. Those innocent eyes. How can anyone lie to those innocent, pure eyes? His every emotion showed up on his face. Connor stared up at me, willing to trust me. So naïve. So defenseless, vulnerable. He was so innocent. At all costs, I had to protect this child. I wanted to protect him. After he was my baby brother; I loved him.
I smiled. "Yeah, they're waiting for us."
Connor reciprocated the smile. His whole demeanor changed, reverting back to a happy, carefree child. His fear appeased because of those words. Those simple words. He smiled sweetly, genuinely, at a liar, his eyes shining, his entire face aglow in joy. He toddled on his little feet toward me, his arms reaching out for me. Then, his right arm exploded. Bits of bone, flesh, and blood splattered his neck, his face, his torso. That scream. Connor's scream rang in my ears, my soul, tearing them up, branding my heart, as he fell. He didn't even hit the ground when the next boom blew a hole through his stomach. Organs and more blood shot out, red flying, painting the forest scarlet. Gravity brought Connor crashing down. His body made a wet spat when he and the bloody ground collided. His broken innards and blood were everywhere. Everywhere, I saw red. I could only stare, petrified, in horror, in pain. In excruciating pain. His insides were supposed to stay inside. I could see more blood leaking from the holes in him. How can there be so much blood in such a tiny body? Connor's face was frozen in agony. Where it would stay for eternity. Something in me ripped and twisted, mangled beyond repair. Something in me died along with Connor. Mom and Dad. My family was dead. Every single one of them, gone. Brutally murdered. The earth beneath me crumbled. I cried out, reaching for my bloody, broken baby brother. He was just beaming at me a moment ago. He was so close to me. So close. Why wasn't I the one shot to death? Why was I the only one still alive? Why did it turn out this way? What was the point of all this senseless killing? All this bloodshed and all for what? For what?
"Why? Why are you doing this?!" Torment etched in my every word, pain radiating from my body. Sorrow and pain sank their claws in, squeezing, choking me, and ripped already open wounds.
"Must repay the blood."
Yesterday, that dark, cold, raspy voice would've freaked me out. Now, I couldn't bring myself to care. It suddenly occurred to me that the murderer let us run out of the house. For some reason, I knew. The gunner could have shot us down as easily as s/he did to Dad. But they let us believe that we could escape, that there was a possibility, no matter how small, that we might make it out. They gave us a desperate hope, only to tear us down again. Why? Why did they hate us so much? Hate enough to torture us to this extent? How could such hatred exist? The next gunshot pierced my ears. This time, I wasn't terrified. I had nothing to lose anymore. The impact threw my body away from Connor, slamming it against a tree, the collision splintering the tree, the numerous sharp fragments, stabbing into my body. Agony flooded my body, burning it up, killing whatever was still alive.
Thanks for reading. Have a nice one.