So I had this dream of a horrible killing at a dark cabin in the forest. After a few weeks I figured out all the details, and started a short story of a girls past being sucky. Her father turning evil, killing her mother, and torturing her and her older brother. So her older brother decided to finish their father, and the tragedy was them killing him ad his new wife, and then the older brother gets shot protecting her, so this is her life story. Pretending to be him. But this , what I dare to sh
And then it was finally over. We saved ourselves from the abuse, the torture, but why am I crying. Why are these not tears of joy along with the laughter of triumph.? My bloody hands shook of fear, but why. We are finally safe. We can finally live freely, to run away from this horrid place and let our scars heal safely. But why am I still scared, and of what. We are still together. Right? I turned to him, my eyes now shaking, why was he crying. Maybe because I was. Maybe because our mother is still dead. Maybe because he is happy. We had just cleaned up all of the evidence of the incident and he was telling me it was all right now, that we were safe.
But why can I not feel safe. My blonde hair, now splattered red, waved in the wind, and so did his. My golden eyes were full of my tears, my unexplainable tears of fear. His eyes were strong, but now shaken. How could this be? Why, why does this always happen. My only warmth in this world taken from me again. What is your reason for it this time, God? Why won’t you let me wake up from this dream turned wicked? Why not. Why not? Why not! Please end this now! I fell back into reality to see him standing in front of me with his arms out to the side as if to protect me, but from what? I heard that sound strike through the air loudly, swiftly, demonically. The devils tool was the cause of his fall.
I watched him, his blood shedding onto me, collapse to the ground. I could hear screaming in the background, a high-pitch sound, saying, “Why! Why are you doing this!” I realized these words were none other then my own. I could barely feel my mouth move as I feel to look at him, dead on the ground. “Why! Why are you doing this!” I screamed again, but not to God, to the demon in front of me, the man who had shot him. The man came closer to me, repeating the same thing over and over again, but I could not understand it yet. I took the wooden cross from around his neck and tied it around my wrist. I stood up slowly, shaking from fear, “Why! Why did you have to kill him! He was the only one who could help me! The only one who ever did. How could you! What did he do?” I screamed backing away from the evil man, whose words became clearer, “Please stay calm, I won’t hurt you.” He said this repeatedly as he approached me.
I stared at him realizing that the gun was pointed at me now, and I screamed, “I won’t let you!” I ran away into the forest that our house was in, Knowing that three people were now dead behind me. Our father lay dead on the floor full of shattered plates and glass from the mirror, a hole carved into his head. Our stepmother, sprawled out on the dining room floor, beat to death with an old wooden baseball bat. And now him, my last friend, lay dead in the fields near our pond, a bullet in his heart, and his blood all over. And all I wanted to do was wake up from the nightmare I’ve been in my whole life. And then I decided to finish it all……