Death of Anna

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
An unsettling change happens over humanity, as seen through the eyes of a 16 yearold boy named Aiden. its a short story still in progress....

Submitted: May 08, 2010

A A A | A A A

Submitted: May 08, 2010

A A A

A A A


My eight year old sister’s body fell to the floor with a sickening thud. Blood pooled and instantly soaked into the living room carpet. The bullet I put in her head drove itself clean through her skull and lodged into the far wall.  Right below a framed painting of a young girl wearing a large sun bonnet, and sitting in a meadow picking wild flowers. I could feel the nausea begin in the pit of my stomach, swelling and rising up into my throat. I laid down on the couch realizing I was close to passing out. When I woke up I had a massive headache, hoping I dreamed the whole sick incident with my sister. I glared over and seen her twisted body lying right where I left it. My heart sank, tears welled up in my eyes and I fell to the floor.
I wrapped my sister’s body in a black tarp from the garage. I couldn’t bring myself to bury her now stiff corpse, not yet anyway. I emptied out the storage freezer in the garage and placed her inside. I may not be able to bury her, but I didn’t want to see or smell what she had become. Back in the house I grabbed the bottle of whiskey we saved for holidays. If underage drinking was the worst thing I had done today it would have been a very good day, but in the grand scheme of things it seemed more than likely that, that would be the least of my parents worries. I still hadn’t called them, what would I say “hey. How’s the trip going? By the way I shot Anna in the head” while I sorted out what my next move was going to be I decided to try to clean up the blood. I t was a darkened reminder just like the small pieces of what used to be Anna’s brain that now clung to the wall. After an hour or so of cleaning the carpet it was now a light pink, it looked more like some one had spilled a pitcher of kool - aid, rather than some one draining out through a hole in their head. I was jilted out of a haze, by a loud sound outside. It then dawned on me that I had spent the last couple hours staring at the hole in the wall where no doubt the bullet that plowed it’s was through Anna’s head had met its final resting place. Taking another swig of whiskey the bitter taste made my tongue numb, and burned going all the way down where it rested in my gut like a small fermented pool of guilt and remorse. Honestly turning myself in wasn’t the problem, the problem was I didn’t want to answer question after question when really the only thing they gave a shit about was why I killed my sweet little rosy cheeked sister. I didn’t want to hear my mother ask through trembling voice and streaming tears. At the moment this thought ran through my mind a cold chill ran down my spine, but it cut straight through me and into my soul. Truth was I wasn’t really sure why it happened. All I know is no one would believe me, no matter how I explained it. I would just be labeled a cold blooded killer, an evil twisted sociopath that got some sick thrill out of dropping his baby sister with a bullet to the head. None of that is true; nothing could be further from the truth. We were supposed to go and get ice cream, go to the park and finish with pizza and a movie, not insanity and bloodshed. My self loathing was interrupted by another load noise outside. Getting up off the couch the whiskey hit me harder than I expected and I stumbled my way to the window, peering out through the curtains. A car was twisted around a telephone pole, smoke billowing out from the engine. I couldn’t see if anyone was in the car through smoke and broken glass. Despite the horrific events that took place earlier in the day. I felt a need to see if anyone was injured and if it meant at some point my dark secret being revealed I didn’t care. I made my way to the front door, opening it I could smell burning rubber mixed with oil. Stepping out onto the front porch, I noticed black smoke rising into the sky not just from the car, but from a number of different places. It looked like fires had been set all over our little neighborhood. From down the street I could see someone running, not far behind I could see why they were being chased. The first person tripped, the second falling on top of them then without mercy began tearing and biting at their flesh, raising their head fragments of skin and streams of blood falling from their chin it sank its teeth back into its prey.Even at the distance I was standing I knew the crazed look in the eye’s of the second person. It was the same look Anna had, a look that sent a tremor of terror through out my entire body. The indescribable movements as if some unseen mad man; were pulling a marionettes strings sporadically twisting and turning the unknowing individual’s body. What ever happened, what ever changed these people made them insanely violent. I remember how Anna came at me at first a low rumbling in her throat raising slowly to a high pitched scream. Then she lunged at me clawing and biting. These events didn’t make anymore sense than they did earlier in the day. The gun shot that took Anna’s life; that came from my own hands gutted my soul and no amount of rationalization would change that, but still I felt almost as if a great weight had been lifted off my shoulders. What happened today didn’t just happen to Anna, it happened all over. In the distance there was an explosion, I turn around and went back inside. It wasn’t just Anna.
My eight year old sister’s body fell to the floor with a sickening thud. Blood pooled and instantly soaked into the living room carpet. The bullet I put in her head drove itself clean through her skull and lodged into the far wall.  Right below a framed painting of a young girl wearing a large sun bonnet, and sitting in a meadow picking wild flowers. I could feel the nausea begin in the pit of my stomach, swelling and rising up into my throat. I laid down on the couch realizing I was close to passing out. When I woke up I had a massive headache, hoping I dreamed the whole sick incident with my sister. I glared over and seen her twisted body lying right where I left it. My heart sank, tears welled up in my eyes and I fell to the floor.
I wrapped my sister’s body in a black tarp from the garage. I couldn’t bring myself to bury her now stiff corpse, not yet anyway. I emptied out the storage freezer in the garage and placed her inside. I may not be able to bury her, but I didn’t want to see or smell what she had become. Back in the house I grabbed the bottle of whiskey we saved for holidays. If underage drinking was the worst thing I had done today it would have been a very good day, but in the grand scheme of things it seemed more than likely that, that would be the least of my parents worries. I still hadn’t called them, what would I say “hey. How’s the trip going? By the way I shot Anna in the head” while I sorted out what my next move was going to be I decided to try to clean up the blood. I t was a darkened reminder just like the small pieces of what used to be Anna’s brain that now clung to the wall. After an hour or so of cleaning the carpet it was now a light pink, it looked more like some one had spilled a pitcher of kool - aid, rather than some one draining out through a hole in their head. I was jilted out of a haze, by a loud sound outside. It then dawned on me that I had spent the last couple hours staring at the hole in the wall where no doubt the bullet that plowed it’s was through Anna’s head had met its final resting place. Taking another swig of whiskey the bitter taste made my tongue numb, and burned going all the way down where it rested in my gut like a small fermented pool of guilt and remorse. Honestly turning myself in wasn’t the problem, the problem was I didn’t want to answer question after question when really the only thing they gave a shit about was why I killed my sweet little rosy cheeked sister. I didn’t want to hear my mother ask through trembling voice and streaming tears. At the moment this thought ran through my mind a cold chill ran down my spine, but it cut straight through me and into my soul. Truth was I wasn’t really sure why it happened. All I know is no one would believe me, no matter how I explained it. I would just be labeled a cold blooded killer, an evil twisted sociopath that got some sick thrill out of dropping his baby sister with a bullet to the head. None of that is true; nothing could be further from the truth. We were supposed to go and get ice cream, go to the park and finish with pizza and a movie, not insanity and bloodshed. My self loathing was interrupted by another load noise outside. Getting up off the couch the whiskey hit me harder than I expected and I stumbled my way to the window, peering out through the curtains. A car was twisted around a telephone pole, smoke billowing out from the engine. I couldn’t see if anyone was in the car through smoke and broken glass. Despite the horrific events that took place earlier in the day. I felt a need to see if anyone was injured and if it meant at some point my dark secret being revealed I didn’t care. I made my way to the front door, opening it I could smell burning rubber mixed with oil. Stepping out onto the front porch, I noticed black smoke rising into the sky not just from the car, but from a number of different places. It looked like fires had been set all over our little neighborhood. From down the street I could see someone running, not far behind I could see why they were being chased. The first person tripped, the second falling on top of them then without mercy began tearing and biting at their flesh, raising their head fragments of skin and streams of blood falling from their chin it sank its teeth back into its prey.Even at the distance I was standing I knew the crazed look in the eye’s of the second person. It was the same look Anna had, a look that sent a tremor of terror through out my entire body. The indescribable movements as if some unseen mad man; were pulling a marionettes strings sporadically twisting and turning the unknowing individual’s body. What ever happened, what ever changed these people made them insanely violent. I remember how Anna came at me at first a low rumbling in her throat raising slowly to a high pitched scream. Then she lunged at me clawing and biting. These events didn’t make anymore sense than they did earlier in the day. The gun shot that took Anna’s life; that came from my own hands gutted my soul and no amount of rationalization would change that, but still I felt almost as if a great weight had been lifted off my shoulders. What happened today didn’t just happen to Anna, it happened all over. In the distance there was an explosion, I turn around and went back inside. It wasn’t just Anna.
My eight year old sister’s body fell to the floor with a sickening thud. Blood pooled and instantly soaked into the living room carpet. The bullet I put in her head drove itself clean through her skull and lodged into the far wall.  Right below a framed painting of a young girl wearing a large sun bonnet, and sitting in a meadow picking wild flowers. I could feel the nausea begin in the pit of my stomach, swelling and rising up into my throat. I laid down on the couch realizing I was close to passing out. When I woke up I had a massive headache, hoping I dreamed the whole sick incident with my sister. I glared over and seen her twisted body lying right where I left it. My heart sank, tears welled up in my eyes and I fell to the floor.
I wrapped my sister’s body in a black tarp from the garage. I couldn’t bring myself to bury her now stiff corpse, not yet anyway. I emptied out the storage freezer in the garage and placed her inside. I may not be able to bury her, but I didn’t want to see or smell what she had become. Back in the house I grabbed the bottle of whiskey we saved for holidays. If underage drinking was the worst thing I had done today it would have been a very good day, but in the grand scheme of things it seemed more than likely that, that would be the least of my parents worries. I still hadn’t called them, what would I say “hey. How’s the trip going? By the way I shot Anna in the head” while I sorted out what my next move was going to be I decided to try to clean up the blood. I t was a darkened reminder just like the small pieces of what used to be Anna’s brain that now clung to the wall. After an hour or so of cleaning the carpet it was now a light pink, it looked more like some one had spilled a pitcher of kool - aid, rather than some one draining out through a hole in their head. I was jilted out of a haze, by a loud sound outside. It then dawned on me that I had spent the last couple hours staring at the hole in the wall where no doubt the bullet that plowed it’s was through Anna’s head had met its final resting place. Taking another swig of whiskey the bitter taste made my tongue numb, and burned going all the way down where it rested in my gut like a small fermented pool of guilt and remorse. Honestly turning myself in wasn’t the problem, the problem was I didn’t want to answer question after question when really the only thing they gave a shit about was why I killed my sweet little rosy cheeked sister. I didn’t want to hear my mother ask through trembling voice and streaming tears. At the moment this thought ran through my mind a cold chill ran down my spine, but it cut straight through me and into my soul. Truth was I wasn’t really sure why it happened. All I know is no one would believe me, no matter how I explained it. I would just be labeled a cold blooded killer, an evil twisted sociopath that got some sick thrill out of dropping his baby sister with a bullet to the head. None of that is true; nothing could be further from the truth. We were supposed to go and get ice cream, go to the park and finish with pizza and a movie, not insanity and bloodshed. My self loathing was interrupted by another load noise outside. Getting up off the couch the whiskey hit me harder than I expected and I stumbled my way to the window, peering out through the curtains. A car was twisted around a telephone pole, smoke billowing out from the engine. I couldn’t see if anyone was in the car through smoke and broken glass. Despite the horrific events that took place earlier in the day. I felt a need to see if anyone was injured and if it meant at some point my dark secret being revealed I didn’t care. I made my way to the front door, opening it I could smell burning rubber mixed with oil. Stepping out onto the front porch, I noticed black smoke rising into the sky not just from the car, but from a number of different places. It looked like fires had been set all over our little neighborhood. From down the street I could see someone running, not far behind I could see why they were being chased. The first person tripped, the second falling on top of them then without mercy began tearing and biting at their flesh, raising their head fragments of skin and streams of blood falling from their chin it sank its teeth back into its prey.Even at the distance I was standing I knew the crazed look in the eye’s of the second person. It was the same look Anna had, a look that sent a tremor of terror through out my entire body. The indescribable movements as if some unseen mad man; were pulling a marionettes strings sporadically twisting and turning the unknowing individual’s body. What ever happened, what ever changed these people made them insanely violent. I remember how Anna came at me at first a low rumbling in her throat raising slowly to a high pitched scream. Then she lunged at me clawing and biting. These events didn’t make anymore sense than they did earlier in the day. The gun shot that took Anna’s life; that came from my own hands gutted my soul and no amount of rationalization would change that, but still I felt almost as if a great weight had been lifted off my shoulders. What happened today didn’t just happen to Anna, it happened all over. In the distance there was an explosion, I turn around and went back inside. It wasn’t just Anna.
My eight year old sister’s body fell to the floor with a sickening thud. Blood pooled and instantly soaked into the living room carpet. The bullet I put in her head drove itself clean through her skull and lodged into the far wall.  Right below a framed painting of a young girl wearing a large sun bonnet, and sitting in a meadow picking wild flowers. I could feel the nausea begin in the pit of my stomach, swelling and rising up into my throat. I laid down on the couch realizing I was close to passing out. When I woke up I had a massive headache, hoping I dreamed the whole sick incident with my sister. I glared over and seen her twisted body lying right where I left it. My heart sank, tears welled up in my eyes and I fell to the floor.
I wrapped my sister’s body in a black tarp from the garage. I couldn’t bring myself to bury her now stiff corpse, not yet anyway. I emptied out the storage freezer in the garage and placed her inside. I may not be able to bury her, but I didn’t want to see or smell what she had become. Back in the house I grabbed the bottle of whiskey we saved for holidays. If underage drinking was the worst thing I had done today it would have been a very good day, but in the grand scheme of things it seemed more than likely that, that would be the least of my parents worries. I still hadn’t called them, what would I say “hey. How’s the trip going? By the way I shot Anna in the head” while I sorted out what my next move was going to be I decided to try to clean up the blood. I t was a darkened reminder just like the small pieces of what used to be Anna’s brain that now clung to the wall. After an hour or so of cleaning the carpet it was now a light pink, it looked more like some one had spilled a pitcher of kool - aid, rather than some one draining out through a hole in their head. I was jilted out of a haze, by a loud sound outside. It then dawned on me that I had spent the last couple hours staring at the hole in the wall where no doubt the bullet that plowed it’s was through Anna’s head had met its final resting place. Taking another swig of whiskey the bitter taste made my tongue numb, and burned going all the way down where it rested in my gut like a small fermented pool of guilt and remorse. Honestly turning myself in wasn’t the problem, the problem was I didn’t want to answer question after question when really the only thing they gave a shit about was why I killed my sweet little rosy cheeked sister. I didn’t want to hear my mother ask through trembling voice and streaming tears. At the moment this thought ran through my mind a cold chill ran down my spine, but it cut straight through me and into my soul. Truth was I wasn’t really sure why it happened. All I know is no one would believe me, no matter how I explained it. I would just be labeled a cold blooded killer, an evil twisted sociopath that got some sick thrill out of dropping his baby sister with a bullet to the head. None of that is true; nothing could be further from the truth. We were supposed to go and get ice cream, go to the park and finish with pizza and a movie, not insanity and bloodshed. My self loathing was interrupted by another load noise outside. Getting up off the couch the whiskey hit me harder than I expected and I stumbled my way to the window, peering out through the curtains. A car was twisted around a telephone pole, smoke billowing out from the engine. I couldn’t see if anyone was in the car through smoke and broken glass. Despite the horrific events that took place earlier in the day. I felt a need to see if anyone was injured and if it meant at some point my dark secret being revealed I didn’t care. I made my way to the front door, opening it I could smell burning rubber mixed with oil. Stepping out onto the front porch, I noticed black smoke rising into the sky not just from the car, but from a number of different places. It looked like fires had been set all over our little neighborhood. From down the street I could see someone running, not far behind I could see why they were being chased. The first person tripped, the second falling on top of them then without mercy began tearing and biting at their flesh, raising their head fragments of skin and streams of blood falling from their chin it sank its teeth back into its prey.Even at the distance I was standing I knew the crazed look in the eye’s of the second person. It was the same look Anna had, a look that sent a tremor of terror through out my entire body. The indescribable movements as if some unseen mad man; were pulling a marionettes strings sporadically twisting and turning the unknowing individual’s body. What ever happened, what ever changed these people made them insanely violent. I remember how Anna came at me at first a low rumbling in her throat raising slowly to a high pitched scream. Then she lunged at me clawing and biting. These events didn’t make anymore sense than they did earlier in the day. The gun shot that took Anna’s life; that came from my own hands gutted my soul and no amount of rationalization would change that, but still I felt almost as if a great weight had been lifted off my shoulders. What happened today didn’t just happen to Anna, it happened all over. In the distance there was an explosion, I turn around and went back inside. It wasn’t just Anna.
My eight year old sister’s body fell to the floor with a sickening thud. Blood pooled and instantly soaked into the living room carpet. The bullet I put in her head drove itself clean through her skull and lodged into the far wall.  Right below a framed painting of a young girl wearing a large sun bonnet, and sitting in a meadow picking wild flowers. I could feel the nausea begin in the pit of my stomach, swelling and rising up into my throat. I laid down on the couch realizing I was close to passing out. When I woke up I had a massive headache, hoping I dreamed the whole sick incident with my sister. I glared over and seen her twisted body lying right where I left it. My heart sank, tears welled up in my eyes and I fell to the floor.
I wrapped my sister’s body in a black tarp from the garage. I couldn’t bring myself to bury her now stiff corpse, not yet anyway. I emptied out the storage freezer in the garage and placed her inside. I may not be able to bury her, but I didn’t want to see or smell what she had become. Back in the house I grabbed the bottle of whiskey we saved for holidays. If underage drinking was the worst thing I had done today it would have been a very good day, but in the grand scheme of things it seemed more than likely that, that would be the least of my parents worries. I still hadn’t called them, what would I say “hey. How’s the trip going? By the way I shot Anna in the head” while I sorted out what my next move was going to be I decided to try to clean up the blood. I t was a darkened reminder just like the small pieces of what used to be Anna’s brain that now clung to the wall. After an hour or so of cleaning the carpet it was now a light pink, it looked more like some one had spilled a pitcher of kool - aid, rather than some one draining out through a hole in their head. I was jilted out of a haze, by a loud sound outside. It then dawned on me that I had spent the last couple hours staring at the hole in the wall where no doubt the bullet that plowed it’s was through Anna’s head had met its final resting place. Taking another swig of whiskey the bitter taste made my tongue numb, and burned going all the way down where it rested in my gut like a small fermented pool of guilt and remorse. Honestly turning myself in wasn’t the problem, the problem was I didn’t want to answer question after question when really the only thing they gave a shit about was why I killed my sweet little rosy cheeked sister. I didn’t want to hear my mother ask through trembling voice and streaming tears. At the moment this thought ran through my mind a cold chill ran down my spine, but it cut straight through me and into my soul. Truth was I wasn’t really sure why it happened. All I know is no one would believe me, no matter how I explained it. I would just be labeled a cold blooded killer, an evil twisted sociopath that got some sick thrill out of dropping his baby sister with a bullet to the head. None of that is true; nothing could be further from the truth. We were supposed to go and get ice cream, go to the park and finish with pizza and a movie, not insanity and bloodshed. My self loathing was interrupted by another load noise outside. Getting up off the couch the whiskey hit me harder than I expected and I stumbled my way to the window, peering out through the curtains. A car was twisted around a telephone pole, smoke billowing out from the engine. I couldn’t see if anyone was in the car through smoke and broken glass. Despite the horrific events that took place earlier in the day. I felt a need to see if anyone was injured and if it meant at some point my dark secret being revealed I didn’t care. I made my way to the front door, opening it I could smell burning rubber mixed with oil. Stepping out onto the front porch, I noticed black smoke rising into the sky not just from the car, but from a number of different places. It looked like fires had been set all over our little neighborhood. From down the street I could see someone running, not far behind I could see why they were being chased. The first person tripped, the second falling on top of them then without mercy began tearing and biting at their flesh, raising their head fragments of skin and streams of blood falling from their chin it sank its teeth back into its prey.Even at the distance I was standing I knew the crazed look in the eye’s of the second person. It was the same look Anna had, a look that sent a tremor of terror through out my entire body. The indescribable movements as if some unseen mad man; were pulling a marionettes strings sporadically twisting and turning the unknowing individual’s body. What ever happened, what ever changed these people made them insanely violent. I remember how Anna came at me at first a low rumbling in her throat raising slowly to a high pitched scream. Then she lunged at me clawing and biting. These events didn’t make anymore sense than they did earlier in the day. The gun shot that took Anna’s life; that came from my own hands gutted my soul and no amount of rationalization would change that, but still I felt almost as if a great weight had been lifted off my shoulders. What happened today didn’t just happen to Anna, it happened all over. In the distance there was an explosion, I turn around and went back inside. It wasn’t just Anna.
My eight year old sister’s body fell to the floor with a sickening thud. Blood pooled and instantly soaked into the living room carpet. The bullet I put in her head drove itself clean through her skull and lodged into the far wall.  Right below a framed painting of a young girl wearing a large sun bonnet, and sitting in a meadow picking wild flowers. I could feel the nausea begin in the pit of my stomach, swelling and rising up into my throat. I laid down on the couch realizing I was close to passing out. When I woke up I had a massive headache, hoping I dreamed the whole sick incident with my sister. I glared over and seen her twisted body lying right where I left it. My heart sank, tears welled up in my eyes and I fell to the floor.
I wrapped my sister’s body in a black tarp from the garage. I couldn’t bring myself to bury her now stiff corpse, not yet anyway. I emptied out the storage freezer in the garage and placed her inside. I may not be able to bury her, but I didn’t want to see or smell what she had become. Back in the house I grabbed the bottle of whiskey we saved for holidays. If underage drinking was the worst thing I had done today it would have been a very good day, but in the grand scheme of things it seemed more than likely that, that would be the least of my parents worries. I still hadn’t called them, what would I say “hey. How’s the trip going? By the way I shot Anna in the head” while I sorted out what my next move was going to be I decided to try to clean up the blood. I t was a darkened reminder just like the small pieces of what used to be Anna’s brain that now clung to the wall. After an hour or so of cleaning the carpet it was now a light pink, it looked more like some one had spilled a pitcher of kool - aid, rather than some one draining out through a hole in their head. I was jilted out of a haze, by a loud sound outside. It then dawned on me that I had spent the last couple hours staring at the hole in the wall where no doubt the bullet that plowed it’s was through Anna’s head had met its final resting place. Taking another swig of whiskey the bitter taste made my tongue numb, and burned going all the way down where it rested in my gut like a small fermented pool of guilt and remorse. Honestly turning myself in wasn’t the problem, the problem was I didn’t want to answer question after question when really the only thing they gave a shit about was why I killed my sweet little rosy cheeked sister. I didn’t want to hear my mother ask through trembling voice and streaming tears. At the moment this thought ran through my mind a cold chill ran down my spine, but it cut straight through me and into my soul. Truth was I wasn’t really sure why it happened. All I know is no one would believe me, no matter how I explained it. I would just be labeled a cold blooded killer, an evil twisted sociopath that got some sick thrill out of dropping his baby sister with a bullet to the head. None of that is true; nothing could be further from the truth. We were supposed to go and get ice cream, go to the park and finish with pizza and a movie, not insanity and bloodshed. My self loathing was interrupted by another load noise outside. Getting up off the couch the whiskey hit me harder than I expected and I stumbled my way to the window, peering out through the curtains. A car was twisted around a telephone pole, smoke billowing out from the engine. I couldn’t see if anyone was in the car through smoke and broken glass. Despite the horrific events that took place earlier in the day. I felt a need to see if anyone was injured and if it meant at some point my dark secret being revealed I didn’t care. I made my way to the front door, opening it I could smell burning rubber mixed with oil. Stepping out onto the front porch, I noticed black smoke rising into the sky not just from the car, but from a number of different places. It looked like fires had been set all over our little neighborhood. From down the street I could see someone running, not far behind I could see why they were being chased. The first person tripped, the second falling on top of them then without mercy began tearing and biting at their flesh, raising their head fragments of skin and streams of blood falling from their chin it sank its teeth back into its prey.Even at the distance I was standing I knew the crazed look in the eye’s of the second person. It was the same look Anna had, a look that sent a tremor of terror through out my entire body. The indescribable movements as if some unseen mad man; were pulling a marionettes strings sporadically twisting and turning the unknowing individual’s body. What ever happened, what ever changed these people made them insanely violent. I remember how Anna came at me at first a low rumbling in her throat raising slowly to a high pitched scream. Then she lunged at me clawing and biting. These events didn’t make anymore sense than they did earlier in the day. The gun shot that took Anna’s life; that came from my own hands gutted my soul and no amount of rationalization would change that, but still I felt almost as if a great weight had been lifted off my shoulders. What happened today didn’t just happen to Anna, it happened all over. In the distance there was an explosion, I turn around and went back inside. It wasn’t just Anna.
My eight year old sister’s body fell to the floor with a sickening thud. Blood pooled and instantly soaked into the living room carpet. The bullet I put in her head drove itself clean through her skull and lodged into the far wall.  Right below a framed painting of a young girl wearing a large sun bonnet, and sitting in a meadow picking wild flowers. I could feel the nausea begin in the pit of my stomach, swelling and rising up into my throat. I laid down on the couch realizing I was close to passing out. When I woke up I had a massive headache, hoping I dreamed the whole sick incident with my sister. I glared over and seen her twisted body lying right where I left it. My heart sank, tears welled up in my eyes and I fell to the floor.
I wrapped my sister’s body in a black tarp from the garage. I couldn’t bring myself to bury her now stiff corpse, not yet anyway. I emptied out the storage freezer in the garage and placed her inside. I may not be able to bury her, but I didn’t want to see or smell what she had become. Back in the house I grabbed the bottle of whiskey we saved for holidays. If underage drinking was the worst thing I had done today it would have been a very good day, but in the grand scheme of things it seemed more than likely that, that would be the least of my parents worries. I still hadn’t called them, what would I say “hey. How’s the trip going? By the way I shot Anna in the head” while I sorted out what my next move was going to be I decided to try to clean up the blood. I t was a darkened reminder just like the small pieces of what used to be Anna’s brain that now clung to the wall. After an hour or so of cleaning the carpet it was now a light pink, it looked more like some one had spilled a pitcher of kool - aid, rather than some one draining out through a hole in their head. I was jilted out of a haze, by a loud sound outside. It then dawned on me that I had spent the last couple hours staring at the hole in the wall where no doubt the bullet that plowed it’s was through Anna’s head had met its final resting place. Taking another swig of whiskey the bitter taste made my tongue numb, and burned going all the way down where it rested in my gut like a small fermented pool of guilt and remorse. Honestly turning myself in wasn’t the problem, the problem was I didn’t want to answer question after question when really the only thing they gave a shit about was why I killed my sweet little rosy cheeked sister. I didn’t want to hear my mother ask through trembling voice and streaming tears. At the moment this thought ran through my mind a cold chill ran down my spine, but it cut straight through me and into my soul. Truth was I wasn’t really sure why it happened. All I know is no one would believe me, no matter how I explained it. I would just be labeled a cold blooded killer, an evil twisted sociopath that got some sick thrill out of dropping his baby sister with a bullet to the head. None of that is true; nothing could be further from the truth. We were supposed to go and get ice cream, go to the park and finish with pizza and a movie, not insanity and bloodshed. My self loathing was interrupted by another load noise outside. Getting up off the couch the whiskey hit me harder than I expected and I stumbled my way to the window, peering out through the curtains. A car was twisted around a telephone pole, smoke billowing out from the engine. I couldn’t see if anyone was in the car through smoke and broken glass. Despite the horrific events that took place earlier in the day. I felt a need to see if anyone was injured and if it meant at some point my dark secret being revealed I didn’t care. I made my way to the front door, opening it I could smell burning rubber mixed with oil. Stepping out onto the front porch, I noticed black smoke rising into the sky not just from the car, but from a number of different places. It looked like fires had been set all over our little neighborhood. From down the street I could see someone running, not far behind I could see why they were being chased. The first person tripped, the second falling on top of them then without mercy began tearing and biting at their flesh, raising their head fragments of skin and streams of blood falling from their chin it sank its teeth back into its prey.Even at the distance I was standing I knew the crazed look in the eye’s of the second person. It was the same look Anna had, a look that sent a tremor of terror through out my entire body. The indescribable movements as if some unseen mad man; were pulling a marionettes strings sporadically twisting and turning the unknowing individual’s body. What ever happened, what ever changed these people made them insanely violent. I remember how Anna came at me at first a low rumbling in her throat raising slowly to a high pitched scream. Then she lunged at me clawing and biting. These events didn’t make anymore sense than they did earlier in the day. The gun shot that took Anna’s life; that came from my own hands gutted my soul and no amount of rationalization would change that, but still I felt almost as if a great weight had been lifted off my shoulders. What happened today didn’t just happen to Anna, it happened all over. In the distance there was an explosion, I turn around and went back inside. It wasn’t just Anna.
My eight year old sister’s body fell to the floor with a sickening thud. Blood pooled and instantly soaked into the living room carpet. The bullet I put in her head drove itself clean through her skull and lodged into the far wall.  Right below a framed painting of a young girl wearing a large sun bonnet, and sitting in a meadow picking wild flowers. I could feel the nausea begin in the pit of my stomach, swelling and rising up into my throat. I laid down on the couch realizing I was close to passing out. When I woke up I had a massive headache, hoping I dreamed the whole sick incident with my sister. I glared over and seen her twisted body lying right where I left it. My heart sank, tears welled up in my eyes and I fell to the floor.
I wrapped my sister’s body in a black tarp from the garage. I couldn’t bring myself to bury her now stiff corpse, not yet anyway. I emptied out the storage freezer in the garage and placed her inside. I may not be able to bury her, but I didn’t want to see or smell what she had become. Back in the house I grabbed the bottle of whiskey we saved for holidays. If underage drinking was the worst thing I had done today it would have been a very good day, but in the grand scheme of things it seemed more than likely that, that would be the least of my parents worries. I still hadn’t called them, what would I say “hey. How’s the trip going? By the way I shot Anna in the head” while I sorted out what my next move was going to be I decided to try to clean up the blood. I t was a darkened reminder just like the small pieces of what used to be Anna’s brain that now clung to the wall. After an hour or so of cleaning the carpet it was now a light pink, it looked more like some one had spilled a pitcher of kool - aid, rather than some one draining out through a hole in their head. I was jilted out of a haze, by a loud sound outside. It then dawned on me that I had spent the last couple hours staring at the hole in the wall where no doubt the bullet that plowed it’s was through Anna’s head had met its final resting place. Taking another swig of whiskey the bitter taste made my tongue numb, and burned going all the way down where it rested in my gut like a small fermented pool of guilt and remorse. Honestly turning myself in wasn’t the problem, the problem was I didn’t want to answer question after question when really the only thing they gave a shit about was why I killed my sweet little rosy cheeked sister. I didn’t want to hear my mother ask through trembling voice and streaming tears. At the moment this thought ran through my mind a cold chill ran down my spine, but it cut straight through me and into my soul. Truth was I wasn’t really sure why it happened. All I know is no one would believe me, no matter how I explained it. I would just be labeled a cold blooded killer, an evil twisted sociopath that got some sick thrill out of dropping his baby sister with a bullet to the head. None of that is true; nothing could be further from the truth. We were supposed to go and get ice cream, go to the park and finish with pizza and a movie, not insanity and bloodshed. My self loathing was interrupted by another load noise outside. Getting up off the couch the whiskey hit me harder than I expected and I stumbled my way to the window, peering out through the curtains. A car was twisted around a telephone pole, smoke billowing out from the engine. I couldn’t see if anyone was in the car through smoke and broken glass. Despite the horrific events that took place earlier in the day. I felt a need to see if anyone was injured and if it meant at some point my dark secret being revealed I didn’t care. I made my way to the front door, opening it I could smell burning rubber mixed with oil. Stepping out onto the front porch, I noticed black smoke rising into the sky not just from the car, but from a number of different places. It looked like fires had been set all over our little neighborhood. From down the street I could see someone running, not far behind I could see why they were being chased. The first person tripped, the second falling on top of them then without mercy began tearing and biting at their flesh, raising their head fragments of skin and streams of blood falling from their chin it sank its teeth back into its prey.Even at the distance I was standing I knew the crazed look in the eye’s of the second person. It was the same look Anna had, a look that sent a tremor of terror through out my entire body. The indescribable movements as if some unseen mad man; were pulling a marionettes strings sporadically twisting and turning the unknowing individual’s body. What ever happened, what ever changed these people made them insanely violent. I remember how Anna came at me at first a low rumbling in her throat raising slowly to a high pitched scream. Then she lunged at me clawing and biting. These events didn’t make anymore sense than they did earlier in the day. The gun shot that took Anna’s life; that came from my own hands gutted my soul and no amount of rationalization would change that, but still I felt almost as if a great weight had been lifted off my shoulders. What happened today didn’t just happen to Anna, it happened all over. In the distance there was an explosion, I turn around and went back inside. It wasn’t just Anna.
My eight year old sister’s body fell to the floor with a sickening thud. Blood pooled and instantly soaked into the living room carpet. The bullet I put in her head drove itself clean through her skull and lodged into the far wall.  Right below a framed painting of a young girl wearing a large sun bonnet, and sitting in a meadow picking wild flowers. I could feel the nausea begin in the pit of my stomach, swelling and rising up into my throat. I laid down on the couch realizing I was close to passing out. When I woke up I had a massive headache, hoping I dreamed the whole sick incident with my sister. I glared over and seen her twisted body lying right where I left it. My heart sank, tears welled up in my eyes and I fell to the floor.
I wrapped my sister’s body in a black tarp from the garage. I couldn’t bring myself to bury her now stiff corpse, not yet anyway. I emptied out the storage freezer in the garage and placed her inside. I may not be able to bury her, but I didn’t want to see or smell what she had become. Back in the house I grabbed the bottle of whiskey we saved for holidays. If underage drinking was the worst thing I had done today it would have been a very good day, but in the grand scheme of things it seemed more than likely that, that would be the least of my parents worries. I still hadn’t called them, what would I say “hey. How’s the trip going? By the way I shot Anna in the head” while I sorted out what my next move was going to be I decided to try to clean up the blood. I t was a darkened reminder just like the small pieces of what used to be Anna’s brain that now clung to the wall. After an hour or so of cleaning the carpet it was now a light pink, it looked more like some one had spilled a pitcher of kool - aid, rather than some one draining out through a hole in their head. I was jilted out of a haze, by a loud sound outside. It then dawned on me that I had spent the last couple hours staring at the hole in the wall where no doubt the bullet that plowed it’s was through Anna’s head had met its final resting place. Taking another swig of whiskey the bitter taste made my tongue numb, and burned going all the way down where it rested in my gut like a small fermented pool of guilt and remorse. Honestly turning myself in wasn’t the problem, the problem was I didn’t want to answer question after question when really the only thing they gave a shit about was why I killed my sweet little rosy cheeked sister. I didn’t want to hear my mother ask through trembling voice and streaming tears. At the moment this thought ran through my mind a cold chill ran down my spine, but it cut straight through me and into my soul. Truth was I wasn’t really sure why it happened. All I know is no one would believe me, no matter how I explained it. I would just be labeled a cold blooded killer, an evil twisted sociopath that got some sick thrill out of dropping his baby sister with a bullet to the head. None of that is true; nothing could be further from the truth. We were supposed to go and get ice cream, go to the park and finish with pizza and a movie, not insanity and bloodshed. My self loathing was interrupted by another load noise outside. Getting up off the couch the whiskey hit me harder than I expected and I stumbled my way to the window, peering out through the curtains. A car was twisted around a telephone pole, smoke billowing out from the engine. I couldn’t see if anyone was in the car through smoke and broken glass. Despite the horrific events that took place earlier in the day. I felt a need to see if anyone was injured and if it meant at some point my dark secret being revealed I didn’t care. I made my way to the front door, opening it I could smell burning rubber mixed with oil. Stepping out onto the front porch, I noticed black smoke rising into the sky not just from the car, but from a number of different places. It looked like fires had been set all over our little neighborhood. From down the street I could see someone running, not far behind I could see why they were being chased. The first person tripped, the second falling on top of them then without mercy began tearing and biting at their flesh, raising their head fragments of skin and streams of blood falling from their chin it sank its teeth back into its prey.Even at the distance I was standing I knew the crazed look in the eye’s of the second person. It was the same look Anna had, a look that sent a tremor of terror through out my entire body. The indescribable movements as if some unseen mad man; were pulling a marionettes strings sporadically twisting and turning the unknowing individual’s body. What ever happened, what ever changed these people made them insanely violent. I remember how Anna came at me at first a low rumbling in her throat raising slowly to a high pitched scream. Then she lunged at me clawing and biting. These events didn’t make anymore sense than they did earlier in the day. The gun shot that took Anna’s life; that came from my own hands gutted my soul and no amount of rationalization would change that, but still I felt almost as if a great weight had been lifted off my shoulders. What happened today didn’t just happen to Anna, it happened all over. In the distance there was an explosion, I turn around and went back inside. It wasn’t just Anna.
My eight year old sister’s body fell to the floor with a sickening thud. Blood pooled and instantly soaked into the living room carpet. The bullet I put in her head drove itself clean through her skull and lodged into the far wall.  Right below a framed painting of a young girl wearing a large sun bonnet, and sitting in a meadow picking wild flowers. I could feel the nausea begin in the pit of my stomach, swelling and rising up into my throat. I laid down on the couch realizing I was close to passing out. When I woke up I had a massive headache, hoping I dreamed the whole sick incident with my sister. I glared over and seen her twisted body lying right where I left it. My heart sank, tears welled up in my eyes and I fell to the floor.
I wrapped my sister’s body in a black tarp from the garage. I couldn’t bring myself to bury her now stiff corpse, not yet anyway. I emptied out the storage freezer in the garage and placed her inside. I may not be able to bury her, but I didn’t want to see or smell what she had become. Back in the house I grabbed the bottle of whiskey we saved for holidays. If underage drinking was the worst thing I had done today it would have been a very good day, but in the grand scheme of things it seemed more than likely that, that would be the least of my parents worries. I still hadn’t called them, what would I say “hey. How’s the trip going? By the way I shot Anna in the head” while I sorted out what my next move was going to be I decided to try to clean up the blood. I t was a darkened reminder just like the small pieces of what used to be Anna’s brain that now clung to the wall. After an hour or so of cleaning the carpet it was now a light pink, it looked more like some one had spilled a pitcher of kool - aid, rather than some one draining out through a hole in their head. I was jilted out of a haze, by a loud sound outside. It then dawned on me that I had spent the last couple hours staring at the hole in the wall where no doubt the bullet that plowed it’s was through Anna’s head had met its final resting place. Taking another swig of whiskey the bitter taste made my tongue numb, and burned going all the way down where it rested in my gut like a small fermented pool of guilt and remorse. Honestly turning myself in wasn’t the problem, the problem was I didn’t want to answer question after question when really the only thing they gave a shit about was why I killed my sweet little rosy cheeked sister. I didn’t want to hear my mother ask through trembling voice and streaming tears. At the moment this thought ran through my mind a cold chill ran down my spine, but it cut straight through me and into my soul. Truth was I wasn’t really sure why it happened. All I know is no one would believe me, no matter how I explained it. I would just be labeled a cold blooded killer, an evil twisted sociopath that got some sick thrill out of dropping his baby sister with a bullet to the head. None of that is true; nothing could be further from the truth. We were supposed to go and get ice cream, go to the park and finish with pizza and a movie, not insanity and bloodshed. My self loathing was interrupted by another load noise outside. Getting up off the couch the whiskey hit me harder than I expected and I stumbled my way to the window, peering out through the curtains. A car was twisted around a telephone pole, smoke billowing out from the engine. I couldn’t see if anyone was in the car through smoke and broken glass. Despite the horrific events that took place earlier in the day. I felt a need to see if anyone was injured and if it meant at some point my dark secret being revealed I didn’t care. I made my way to the front door, opening it I could smell burning rubber mixed with oil. Stepping out onto the front porch, I noticed black smoke rising into the sky not just from the car, but from a number of different places. It looked like fires had been set all over our little neighborhood. From down the street I could see someone running, not far behind I could see why they were being chased. The first person tripped, the second falling on top of them then without mercy began tearing and biting at their flesh, raising their head fragments of skin and streams of blood falling from their chin it sank its teeth back into its prey.Even at the distance I was standing I knew the crazed look in the eye’s of the second person. It was the same look Anna had, a look that sent a tremor of terror through out my entire body. The indescribable movements as if some unseen mad man; were pulling a marionettes strings sporadically twisting and turning the unknowing individual’s body. What ever happened, what ever changed these people made them insanely violent. I remember how Anna came at me at first a low rumbling in her throat raising slowly to a high pitched scream. Then she lunged at me clawing and biting. These events didn’t make anymore sense than they did earlier in the day. The gun shot that took Anna’s life; that came from my own hands gutted my soul and no amount of rationalization would change that, but still I felt almost as if a great weight had been lifted off my shoulders. What happened today didn’t just happen to Anna, it happened all over. In the distance there was an explosion, I turn around and went back inside. It wasn’t just Anna.
My eight year old sister’s body fell to the floor with a sickening thud. Blood pooled and instantly soaked into the living room carpet. The bullet I put in her head drove itself clean through her skull and lodged into the far wall.  Right below a framed painting of a young girl wearing a large sun bonnet, and sitting in a meadow picking wild flowers. I could feel the nausea begin in the pit of my stomach, swelling and rising up into my throat. I laid down on the couch realizing I was close to passing out. When I woke up I had a massive headache, hoping I dreamed the whole sick incident with my sister. I glared over and seen her twisted body lying right where I left it. My heart sank, tears welled up in my eyes and I fell to the floor.
I wrapped my sister’s body in a black tarp from the garage. I couldn’t bring myself to bury her now stiff corpse, not yet anyway. I emptied out the storage freezer in the garage and placed her inside. I may not be able to bury her, but I didn’t want to see or smell what she had become. Back in the house I grabbed the bottle of whiskey we saved for holidays. If underage drinking was the worst thing I had done today it would have been a very good day, but in the grand scheme of things it seemed more than likely that, that would be the least of my parents worries. I still hadn’t called them, what would I say “hey. How’s the trip going? By the way I shot Anna in the head” while I sorted out what my next move was going to be I decided to try to clean up the blood. I t was a darkened reminder just like the small pieces of what used to be Anna’s brain that now clung to the wall. After an hour or so of cleaning the carpet it was now a light pink, i


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