Lifestory told by an assassin. [Chapter one.] |
Författar kommentar Yep, kapitel ett, ursäkte ifall ni fortfarande finner engelskan ...out of mind, men ge mig lite ja, ris och ros så blir alla glada. Och ja, enjoy the story helt enkelt. 8D
A silent scream echoed trough the small house, shaking the inner walls as blood escaped the now limp bodies. Belonging to his mother. His siblings…
The morning after.
He woke up, sweating, panting. Wondering what on earth that dream was about. Himself … Killing his beloved family. He sighed, he didn’t like the dream. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, setting his foot in something … sticky? He looked down. Blood. He froze, right on the spot. Even paler than usually. A muffled scream escaped his throat. The sight … He fell to his knees, hands covering his mouth, making the scream silent.
His mothers body lay limp on the floor, her neck half attached, all the blood, now dried. Her eyes was open, looking at him. Afraid. Scared. To death. He crawled over to her, touched her cheek. Cold…
He swallowed, what … happened? What on earth … He backed away from his mother. He pressed himself, trying to fuse himself with the wall. He blinked, feeling tears run down his cheeks. What … He sobbed. What happened?! He cried silently, wondering why, his family was dead. Why wasn’t he? Why, oh why, was he alive? A sick joke by someone? How … Could anyone let someone …
His eyes, to blurry to see his dead family. Tears, pouring down like rain in the autum. He didn’t want to see his family… Not like this. Not with blood covering their body, not with the cuts, not with the damn open wounds. It was sick. So sick. He felt like puke. He didn’t.
He knew what to do. He should take revenge. He shouldn’t sit here, crying like a damn baby. He should grab his sword. Run after whoever it was. Killing them, slowly. That was exactly what he should do.
So he took his sword into his hand, fingers holding tightly around the hilt of the sword. His sword, the black blade. His eyes then shot wide open. He stared at the blade…
His blade was stained with blood. The very same you saw on the floor, on the dead bodies. His hands shook, he shook. His head, flying from side to side.
”No … No…” He said, repeated the word over and over to himself. He shook violently, hands released the sword from its tight grip. No, this couldn’t be … This wasn’t … He didn’t kill them. He didn’t… What on earth … He reminded himself of the dream, everything clear in front of his eyes. Nothing blurry.
The dream.
He swung his sword, the mother screaming ’No’. The mother tried to run away. She din’t make it. She got her hand on the door handle… The mother screamed as a black blade dug deep into her leg. Paralysing the rest of the body. She fell into a lump. Panting.
”No … Yuuji, don’t … Don’t you know … It’s me” She said in a shaky voice. The answer she got was a new, deep cut on her thigh.
”You said … You woulnd’t leave me, right my dear? You said … You would protect me…” A scream echoed through the house, the walls shuddering, almost giving in to the gory play. The blade went deep into her. Burried itself with all it’s power. Killing the woman. If you tried to listen very hard, you could hear silent sobbing from a large bed in a corner. Small whimpers. A baby screaming.
”Waah! Waah!”
”Mommy!”
Blood escaped the dead womans body, floated, made a small puddle.
”M-mom!” Sniffles. Sobbings. He turned to the children. His siblings.
”No! Brother”
”B-brother!” A silent plea for help, for not to be killed. He did it anyway. Not resting until everything was gone. Not resting until everyone was dead. Not resting until his arms grew tired due the stabbing. Not resting until there were no sounds…
The moment he realized.
He slowly got back to his senses. Tears streaming down his cheeks, escaping his wet eyes. No room for more tears. Not the strenght to cry anymore. He once again fell to his knees. Slamming his fist against the floor. What … What on earth … Why, oh, why, did he do this? Why … He slammed his fist against the wooden floor, screaming in silens. A roar more likly, echoing through the walls, floating in the air, traveling itself to the other in the village. What have he done?
Loud knockings were heard, almost made the door give in due the force.
”I heard screams. Are everyone in there alright?” A deep male voice rocked through the door, made the boy jump to his feet. He didn’t answer. Instead, he hurried to take a pair of pants into his hands, hurried to the window in the backside, opening without making any sound.
”Hello?!” A loud knock again.
”Everytings alright?” The boy slowly shook his head. No nothing were alright. Nothing. Everyone was dead. Everything was gone…
The escape.
So the boy ran away from the house, ran away from everything. Afraid to be called freak. To be pushed away again, to be an outside. To be it, all alone. He didn’t want to be the one everyone whatched, the one people were afraid of. So he ran. And ran. Feets not stopping until he lost conscioussness. He didn’t want to be alone … He didn’t want … And then everyting turned black. His last straw of conscious where gone. And along with that, everything else.
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