I could do it. I held the large kitchen knife in my hand it
sucked me into its self wanting me to take my tormentors life. I
looked in the kitchen mirror at myself in a plain white robe; my
face had a large black cross painted on it. I was to be going on
my own crusade.
I crept up the stairs feeling the predator growing inside me. My
mother's door almost seemed to becoming me towards my mother's
door. Slowly twisting the handle, the predator bared its teeth
waiting to strike. She lay their almost innocent lying sleeping
on her bed, probably stoned or something. Raising the knife above
my head i prepared to strike, my heart beat faster giving me the
energy that every first time killer needs. I struck.
The knife sliced rather cleanly into my mother's neck, the sight
of the blood flowing out her neck onto the mattress excited the
predator who put their mouth to their mothers next and sucked in
the warm metallic liquid for a long time.
George sighed as he walked up to his house ready to find his wife
stoned and his daughter doing something crazy. He opened his door
and called out half heartedly, no answer as usual. He made his
way up stairs feeling a little relieved when he found that his
wife wasn't stoned on the stairs. When he reached him and his
wife's bedroom he heard his daughter's voice inside but couldn't
make out words. A little worried George opened the door to find
the shock of his life on his bed.
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