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Wounded (OneShot)

 

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Posted on Sun May 10, 2015 2:11 pm

My teeth clatter and my whole body shivers. I wrap my arms around myself, tears rolling down my cheeks, plopping to the ground along with the pouring rain. A car drives by, splashing me in freezing cold water. Now my fuzzy pink sweater is soaked, ruining the only hope I had of staying warm out here. "Come on Linda, you've made it this far. You can't stop here." I tell myself. My parents cars aren't in the driveway, so I know nobody's home. I need to hurry, they get off work at 7 P.M., which is just thirty minutes away. I reach into my pocket to pull out my house key, but my hands are shaking so much I drop it in the flowerbed.

After retrieving it, I slowly unlock the front door, my heart beating so fast I fear it might burst. Stepping inside, I see the house is pitch black, and the only sounds I can hear is the peaceful singing of the crickets. Their singing makes it feel as if I'm being welcomed home, but how could I ever be welcomed back here?

I shut and lock the door behind me, and take my flashlight out of my pocket, and shine it at the shoe rack. The pair of shoes my parents always wear to work aren't there, so I'm assured they aren't home. I walk up the stairs one by one, as quietly as I can, and I make my way to what used to be my bedroom.

Why am I not surprised when I see that all of my stuff is gone? My bed, my computer, my book collection, my posters...they've stripped my room bare! Have they no hope that I would return one day? Do they even care that I'm gone?

I look at my reflection in the mirror, and the sight is truly pitiful. My long black hair is all over the place, dripping wet. My hazel eyes are red from so much crying. My sweater is covered in mud and soaked in rain water. My jeans are so soggy from the rain they feel like they've doubled in weight.

I open my closet, and the only thing inside is a bag of clothes with a label that reads "Salvation Army." My clothes...they plan to send my clothes to the Salvation Army. They really don't have any hope that I'll return. I strip myself naked, tossing the wet clothes aside, and dig through the bag.

While changing into the warmest pair of clothes I can find, seeing the wounds on my body reminds me far too clearly of all the suffering I endured here, bringing the tears back to my eyes. After putting on four pairs of socks, three pairs of underwear, two pairs of sweatpants, and three jackets over my shirt, I take my items out of the pockets of the clothes I took off. First, the picture of me, and my little brother.

"I'm so sorry for leaving you all alone, but don't worry, big sis is here to make things right." I say to myself while I take the second item out of my pocket. A knife. This should be all I need to right my wrongs, right?

I walk over to my brother's room and try to open the door, but it's locked. How is his door locked when nobody's home? When the door opens, I fall on my rear in so much fear I wet myself on the spot. "I failed!" I whisper.

"Linda?" I hear the familiar voice ask. The lights turn on, and right in front of me is none other than my brother! His clothes are tattered, hair is uncombed, and in his left hand he's holding the same raggedy teddy bear he got on his fourth birthday.

"D-Did you...say my name? When did you learn to speak?!" I ask, embracing him.

"Knife...why?" He asks, pointing to the knife I dropped. Hearing his voice speaking words is a miracle to me. He was born with autism, and because our parents are so neglectful, he was never taught how to speak.

"It's okay, I'm going to save you from this hell." I hear my dad's car pull up in the driveway. It's time. There's no turning back now. "Wait here." I tape his mouth shut just to be safe, then creep down the stairs. I stand behind the door, holding the knife tightly with both hands.

As soon as the door opens, before he even knows what's going on, I jab the knife right through his eyes socket, and quickly yank it out. He grabs his eye, yelling in pain, then I stab his other eye out. He swings his fist in a random direction, but hits me right in the jaw, sweeping me off my feet. I'm no stranger to being victim to his fist, and I have the upper hand here. I kick him under the belt and he kneels over in pain, swearing and swinging his fists in a rage. I stab him over and over again in the chest, neck, gut, and groin, until he finally passes away.

"He's dead..." I tell myself, as I wipe the blood off my hands, staining the clean white floor.

I hear my mother's car pull up in the driveway, and as soon as she comes inside, I get rid of her just like I did to my dad, only this was easier. My brother comes down the stairs, crying hysterically, trying to rip the tape off his mouth, so I do it for him.

"Daddy...mommy...why?"

"Shh, we have to get out of here before anyone finds out." I cover his mouth and try to drag him out with me, but he resists.

"Mommy and daddy good! Linda bad!" He shoves me back, leaving me confused.

"What are you talking about...? I came did all this for you! You're the reason I came back here! I'm here to save you!"

"Go away!!!" he yells, crying over the corpses of our parents.

I know I need to run as soon as possible if I don't want the cops to catch me, but can I really leave him here? Have I done all this for nothing. Shaking my head and wiping the tears off my face, I exit through the back door, and run. I don't know where I'm running too, but I just keep running as fast as my legs can take me. I killed my parents and now my brother hates me. There's no place in the world for me.



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Posted on Sun May 10, 2015 11:58 pm

What a story!!!!! Well if you think like a pervert you will find this story funny Razz



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Posted on Mon May 11, 2015 3:37 am

Damn, Linda.

Good story.



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Posted on Mon May 11, 2015 9:33 am

Thnx Grin Wrote this to practice my 'Show Don't Tell' and 'More Action, less Dialogue' writing skills



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Posted on Mon May 11, 2015 10:17 am

Oh, okays.

You did good.



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Posted on Mon May 11, 2015 10:25 am

You have great writing story skills Grin I am waiting for your new story!!!! Good



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