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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