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AJ101's contest/Response to The Super Duper 80's Challenge Prince When Doves Cry . a teen recalls murdering his mother and father


Submitted:Jul 3, 2010    Reads: 143    Comments: 21    Likes: 4   


Have you ever tasted another person's blood? The cold, darkened substance oozing against your face. The sound of the splatter, the cries of the victim. My whole life was shifted that day, every good deed I had ever done was erased from my slate, and that one incident turned the world against me. Maybe if I would've been more discreet...but I was young then, it wouldn't have mattered. The law still would have caught up with me.

Sometimes, I think I should've never been born. It was amazing how I got here anyway. All they did was argue. Cuss and fight, jab and stab. What kind of relationship is that? If they did this all day, when did they find the time to make me? "I hate you Charles." My mother would say everyday. It was always ' I hate you, Ihate you '.... never any love. School was the only time when I could relax. Ihad friends, I had people to relate and talk to, and it was like an outlet. Everyday the teachers would sit me in the front, I never understood why, but I assume it was because I was a good student. "Corey? Corey, what's the answer to number 43?" a short, rather quiet girl asked me one day during a test. Is she serious? I thought to myself as she asked. "I don't know." Ilied as I kept my body turned to the front, eyes on my own paper. I could hear the teacher whispering to her telling her to go to the office. And after that the teacher gave me an extra 100 for not answering her. This is who I was at school, the good boy... until I went home.

"I hate you Charles!" My mother exclaimed as soon as I stepped through the front door. She looked at me for a half a second, to make sure I wasn't an intruder, and then she turned back to my father. "I hate everything about you. I swear I do." She continued to holler. My father wasn't necessarily a scrooge, but he wasn't the world's biggest pushover either. He just stared at her, crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall. His cigarette sat between his fat, pink lips. His mustache barely hanging over his top lip. He had a funny face, eye close together, skinny nose, bushiest eyebrows I had ever seen. It was almost impossible to tell when he was upset because he only had one expression. "Nicole, Idon't give a damn about you hating me. You didn't hate me when we made Corey!" He said as he took a drag from his cigarette. My mother scoffed and tapped her foot against the ground. "I hated you then too, and I hated you while I pushed his tubby ass out!" She said as she looked over at me. "Go to your room." She said sternly as she turned back to my father. He was laughing now. Laughing at me.

"Now why would you say something like that while he was standing there?" He asked as if he were trying to take up for me. "Oh save it, Charles. You don't give a damn about that boy and it's high time you stop faking it. You didn't even want me to have him." She spoke coldly as she headed toward the kitchen. "Where you goin'? To get another drink?" "Not for me, for you. Aint like you wasn't on your way in there for one. Bastard." My mother snapped at him again. Sometimes I think, maybe if I would've just gone to my room like she asked, I wouldn't have heard those arguments. I wonder, if I would've stayed at school a bit longer, maybe I would've missed it, missed when they spoke badly about me. Maybe by the time I got home, they would be happy again. But that never happened. Every time I came home it was the same. And anytime she told me to go to my room, I always went to the top of the stairs and listened anyway.

"Nicole, who else were you screwin' before we got married?" Father asked, still leaning against the wall. "The mailman, the milkman, the bank teller, and your father." She replied with a smile on her face. She reached into the cabinet for a glass and began to pour wine into it. My father chuckled as he pushed himself off of the wall and made his way into the kitchen. "My father huh?" He asked again as he curled his lips around his cigarette to make sure it didn't fall. She turned to him as he handed him his glass and nodded her head. "You're damn right. Your daddy." She said proudly as she raised the glass to her lips. Her smile was always enchanting. She had the reddest lips you could ever imagine; she used some crap called maybeline. Her lips were so pouty and cute, maybe that was what he used to love about her. He smiled at her as he took a swig of his drink.

"My daddy?" He asked again. She nodded and held her head back a tad, resting the glass on her lips. "Your da--" before she could get the rest of her sentence out, he raised his hand into the air and balled his fist. "WHORE!" he screamed as he balled his fist and quickly jammed it down onto the glass. I could hear it shatter; hear her gasping as the glass pieces pushed into her teeth and lips. I could imagine the blood. "My daddy, huh? You think that's funny? Talk about a man's father like that? You think that's something to laugh at?" He continued to scream and question her while he bashed her face in with his fists. I could hear the hits, I could hear her cries. He would hit her so hard that I could feel it from upstairs. "PLEASE! CHARLES, I'M SORRY, PLEASE STOP!" She exclaimed as she tried to grab his hand with one of her own and cup her mouth with he other. I don't know what came over me, but something told me to go downstairs and check on them.

Each step I took, the louder they creaked. It's funny, because I never remembered my stairs creaking before then. I could hear them, the blood splashing onto the ground, the two struggling to catch their breath...The blows to the face. I stood at the door for a minute, mesmerized at the scene. Her beautiful violet dress was now stained a darkened color. The floor a deep red, his shoes, his pants, his shirt, his hands. All stained with blood. Her blood. The liquid soaked her lovely strands of jet-black hair. Her neck drenched in the flow of the substance, wine lingered in her wounds, blood leaked from her mouth as if a pipe had burst. The look in her eyes was as if she didn't know him. As if he were a complete stranger, busting into her house with no other motive then to beat the hell out of her. And then she looked at me.

"Corey," She whimpered as she held her hand out. As if she wanted me to rescue her, but how? My heart sank down to my toes. My father turned to me and let out a deep growl, he had clearly turned into an animal. "GET OUT OF HERE!"He snapped as he grabbed the wine bottle and flung it in my direction. That day I believe I acquired spider senses. I ducked with a quickness only known to a ninja, as the bottle shattered against the wall behind me. The glass flew everywhere, some landing in my hair as I fell to the ground. I was shocked; confused as I touched my body to make sure I hadn't been hit. My shirt was covered in wine. I could feel my eyes widening as I looked at them one last time. His hand was gripping her chin, pulling her into the air, her feet dangling, and she was still reaching out for me.

Even while she slept, she was beautiful. The nurses had washed her hair out, cleaned her face, and stitched her well. Her lips were swollen, but still nice. Her skin was fair, no bump in sight. She exhaled. "Corey?" she mumbled out as she opened her eyes. "I'm here mama," I replied to her as I laid my hand on her cheek. She smiled and rested her hand on mine. A loud, strong voice hurled through the hospital halls. "Where is my wife?" The voice echoed. "Where the hell is she?" He asked again as the nurses and doctors tried to assist him. "Sir, you can't go in there." They stated as they tried to get a hold of him. "Like hell I can't, my boy's in there, why can't I be?" And the door swung open, the knob knocking a hole into the wall connected to it. Our moment was broken. My mother's eyes grew cold again. Her breath shortened as she sat upright in her bed. She had so many tubes and needles and things coming in and out of her. She looked like a lab experiment. "GETHIMOUTOFHERE!" she began to scream frantically as she glared at him. "Why you gotta be like that?" He asked as he stepped closer to us. He was cleaned up. Freshly shaven, nice suit, nice shoes. 'Here," He said as he threw a bouquet of flowers at her. Violets. Her favorite.

"What do you want from me?" She asked, her voice shaking. I had never seen a woman so truly afraid of someone that she vowed to spend the rest of her life with. 'I'm trying to apologize here, Nicole. Can't you see that?" He asked as he sat on the edge of the bed. He looked at me and smiled, placed his hand on my head and ruffled my hair. "My boy." He said proudly as he turned his focus back to her. "Just take em, and forgive me." He pouted as he leaned toward her for a kiss. And she did.

Many times I wonder, why did I ever get involved with their arguments? Why did she always take him back? Was that a special thing they did? A unique way of apologizing? I beat you, now I'll hand you your favorite flowers? I also wondered... did she really do that with granddad. Yuck. I could hear them again. In their room, arguing. "So did you really do that? Did you really bang my pops?" My father asked. My mother giggled slightly and changed the TV channel. "Why do you wanna know?" "Are you still doin it?" "Don't worry about it." Silence...and then...crying. It was he this time, surprisingly. "Why are you like this now? Why are we like this? You used to love me, Nicole." He whimpered in a low tone. It was as if he were breaking down. "Oh, Charles...." She said as she leaned over to hug him. He embraced her, kissed her gently. She leaned near his ear, kissed it, and whispered, "I never loved you."

I was almost happy for a moment; I thought they had a breakthrough...until I heard him bashing her head into the wall. "HOW CAN YOU SAY YOU NEVER LOVED ME? HUH? YOU DONT LOVE ME BUT YOU SURE LOVED MY DADDY, HUH?"I just laid there, waiting. When the police came to do the door about a noise complaint, I was ecstatic. Bout time the neighbors stepped in. "That's a damn shame what he does to her." Our neighbor Abigail said to her roommate Fascia. What the hell kinda name is that? And yall have the nerve to gossip? "I hear they beat that boy. Now that's a shame. Old as he is, he needs to be pitchin blows to his damn daddy's head." Fascia replied. 'How old is he again?" "15." Abigail said shortly. The two looked onto the distance as they sat on their porch, gossiping.

I remember the night my mama asked me to help her. "How am I supposed to help you?" I asked quietly. I watched her, shaking and shivering. Crying because he had locked her outside in the garage for hours. I can only imagine what Abigail and Fascia would have to say about that if they knew. "It's in the middle of January, and he locked that girl in there?" "Girl, I know. Have you seen that big ass hole in the middle of the roof? I know all that snow fell on her ass." Those women. Always gossiping, always cackling. I hated them. "You have to help me get rid of him. Help me so he cant beat me anymore!" She begged me. I couldn't help but question, "Why do you say the things you say? Why do you make him angry?" "Because he doesn't love me. He didn't even want you. It was only supposed to be one night...And then I found out I was pregnant with you...and his daddy made him marry me. He was awful at first, Corey." She began to tell me the tale. The tale of life before I could recall it. Her lips so chapped. Her words were so dry. "I'll go get you a bottle of water." I said as I pushed myself off of the bed. "NO! I don't want it, just come back, lay down and help me." She demanded. I nodded and returned to my position. "What is it that you want me to do?" Iasked as she held my hand. "Do you love me? Do you love your mother?" She asked, her voice shaking more. Her body was so pale...all of her color must be laying in the snow. "I do." I responded shortly. "Then help me." She said as she leaned over me. Her breath was cold as well. Her gaze was even frozen. Broken. "Help me kill him."

That night I went and spoke to my father in an attempt to get his side of the story. "When I first met her... I wanted to rip any dudes head off who tried to talk to her. I knew I would love her; Iwanted no one but her... And I let her know it. I whooped ass left and right...but maybe that's what broke us. Maybe I was just too bold." He said as he wrapped his lips around his beer bottle. "Do you still love her?" I asked as I watched his every move. He turned to me, stared. It was as if he couldn't believe I asked him that, like I hurt his feelings. "Of course I love her. She gave me you." I smiled to myself. I never heard him say anything like that.

"IN MY HOUSE, NICOLE? YOU BROUGHT ANOTHER MAN TO MY HOUSE?" I could hear him screaming from down the street. I was fresh off the school bus, struggling to find my key to get inside. Abigail and Fascia were sitting on their porch, gawking at me, giggling and gossiping. "Why don't you take your ass in there and help out?" Fascia asked as she turned her bottle of vodka up into her mouth. Abigail slapped her shoulder playfully as she let out a drunken giggle. "Cow." I said as I opened the door and shut it quickly behind me. The atmosphere in the house was sad. The vibe was dark, all the lights were either off or broken, shattered. The furniture was turned over, wallpaper strung about. Dishes everywhere, broken. And of course, the blood. I stood by the kitchen door, watching them in their usual spot. She was sitting on the counter, bleeding. He was in between her legs, punching and choking, and whatever else he had done before I got there. "You brought another man. Into my home...and had sex with him?" He asked, his hands gripping her jaw. "Yes." She pushed out before he punched her again. "Why wasn't I good enough for you? After all I did for you? WHY WASNT I ENOUGH?" He asked as his voice began to shake. He was crying again. And then she looked at me. Her eyes grew life as she became excited to see me, and I knew what time it was. I reached into the closet and pulled out our metal bat.
I could hear the punching, the choking, and my mother taunting him, awaiting my return to finish the job.

"YOU WERE NEVER MAN ENOUGH FOR ME!" She yelled as she spat into his face. He growled angrily again and struck her. And then she looked at me again. At my form, standing in the doorway. Confident of my next actions. He looked into her eyes, trying to figure out what she saw. And as he gazed at her, I charged at him, I raised my arms, holding the bat in the air, and as he turned to follow her gaze, I struck him. It was the hit heard round the neighborhood. I could feel the vibrations going through the bat, and I became exhilarated. I continued to strike him, blow at his skull, jab at his body. The blood. Have you ever tasted another person's blood? The cold, darkened substance oozing against your face. The sound of the splatter, the cries of the victim. His blood was good. Revenge was good. As I gave another mighty blow to my father's head, I could hear my mother cackling.

She hopped down from the counter, pulled her dress back down over her legs and dug through the drawers. I heard a click as she closed the drawer and headed toward me. "Move." She spoke as if she were in a daze. I looked at her, she wasn't herself. Her smile was that of the joker. No remorse, no real feeling. As if she had no sense of reality. She had fallen off of the earth. She pointed a gun at his head, giggled as she looked up at him, choking on his own blood. And then he looked at me, I at him, she at him and then me. We were all covered in each other's blood. All in our own crazy ass world at the same time. He didn't believe that he would die; I didn't believe that I would kill him, and she didn't believe that there was anything wrong with what was about to happen. "It's a shame that you could never satisfy me." And then I heard it. The crack of his forehead, boom from the shot. The echoes throughout the empty and broken home. My heart jumped, my eyes sprung open, wide. I stared at him. His eyes never able to shut, blood leaking from every opening. His forehead had a single line of blood drain down the side of his head and onto the floor. His mouth hung open as if he had one last thing to say. And I could only imagine what it would be. She handed me the gun and began to walk in the opposite direction. "Shame I had to hump his daddy to make a kid."

"What the hell did you say?" I asked as the words bounced off of the walls in my head. She was cackling again, sipping on her wine as if she didn't have a fear in the world. "Oh shut the hell up, Corey. You always were as dumb as him." She responded as she took another swig. "What did you SAY?!" I asked again as my voice began to raise. Icould feel my own blood boiling. I would grow angrier every time I licked my lips for I realized that I was only licking his blood. "I said, that he aint your daddy." And she drank again. She leaned against the counter, giggling, sipping, and cackling. She knew what she had done. Conned her own son into killing the man he knew as his father. "You know what I'm gonna go do now, honey?" She asked me, I was aware she wasn't really expecting a response. "I'm gonna call up that old man... and tell him the job is done. I'm gonna go move into his estate. And then, I'm gonna wait for him to die, and collect my damn money." her voice was so cold, evil.

I didn't even want to look at her; for fear that I would see someone else. "You know, he was right. I did hate him, always have, and I always will. And his daddy hated him too..." She giggled more. "We've been planning this for months...And you fell for it!" Cackling. "You're gonna be just like him one day. And if you ever have a little girl, you had better pray that she turns out just as spiffy as your mama." She took another sip. "Birds of a feather fly together." Another sip. "When I die, would you be so kind as to lay violets on my grave? That would be so--" Her head smacked back against the cabinets. Another echo went throughout the house. Her glass shattered in her hand, her body jolted at the strength of the bullet. She fell silently, slowly. I stood there, in a trance. Gazing at the scene. My hands still outward in front of my face, pointing the gun where she once stood. Cackling, drinking, giggling.

The smoke was still spewing out of the end of the gun, the blood was still gushing out of here mouth. I just wanted her to shut the hell up. I was so lost in another world, that I didn't even hear the raps at the door. The kicking, screaming.

"GET DOWN ON THE GROUND!" The ones in blue yelled as they ripped the front door off of its hinges. But I was stuck, watching her, my arms still pointed outward at her. "DROP THE WEAPON! GET DOWN ON THE GROUND!" But it was as if someone had pressed the mute button on their voices, paused me in my place. I jolted as one of them gripped my shoulder, flinging my arm around into the crowd of them, another shot going off. My eyes lost their glaze as I snapped back into reality. I could see the officers, hear their screaming, and feel their bullets. "MAN DOWN!" they kept screaming, echoes. The bullets made perfect circles in my body, and I stood there as if I didn't feel it. I just stared at them, crying. One of the officers jerked me toward the ground, and I could see Abigail and Fascia in the doorway. I hope they were happy. As I laid underneath the officers, I could feel my blood leaving my body.

I could hear Fascia telling Abigail that I had finally snapped. I could feel all the pain, my numbness existed no longer. And then I gasped for air. I gasped for life. Red. All i could see was red. It frightened me even more as i saw it leave me, in large quantities. My mouth was gushing the lot of it. The tears weren't enough to express the pain that i felt. I screamed out one last time, the liquid swinging from my mouth had the flow of the ocean. Thick, dark waves of pain.

"GIVE HER VIOLETS!

GIVE MY MOTHER VIOLETS!"

and then they shot me again.





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