That should teach them

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
Just though I should let you know that things are never as they seem...

Submitted: July 14, 2012

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Submitted: July 14, 2012

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A A A


'That should teach them,’ I think to myself as I hammer in the last nail… I stand for a moment, weighing the hammer in my hand, watching the blood drip from my fingers … Shaking my head I begin to pack up everything into my sports bag and head out of the abandoned place at a slow lick.

As I make my way through the dark back streets, I discard the tools in old dumpsters, praying that no one will find them… Praying that they won’t find me… My breath catches when I hear the sirens of a police car, and not far off, see the flashing red and blue lights… I run then; my feet pounding the pavement, my fogged breath coming in painful bursts. I turn endless corner after endless corner hoping to throw them off my scent…

Oh I know I’m going to be in deep, deep shit if they find me… if they find out what I did… Mum, Dad… they’d kill me and then bring me back to life just so they could kill me again… Oh and the police… I bite my lip hard, stifling the panic in my chest. I wish I could go back… I wish I could go back and undo it all … and when they find it…. Oh I’m in so much trouble… I’m going to get it…

I see another police car fly past, sirens blaring and lights flashing and hot on its tale… and ambulance… Oh I messed up bad, messed up bad, bad, bad…. I did it this time… I’m so dead…

I come to a screeching stop at the back of my house… there’s only one light on in the whole house. I silently climb to the back step and fish out the spare key from under the mat. With shaking hands I unlock the door and slink inside to the laundry… I turn on the hot tap and begin to scrub furiously at my blood stained hands, trying desperately to get it out of my skin…

“Is that you, David?” I whip around to face the door, a shadowy silhouette of Mum blocking the hall light… “What are you doing, and why aren’t you out with your friends?”  My heart pounds in my chest, in my throat… I want to be sick. I want to be sick and get rid of it, get it out of my system… because I know I’m so dead…

I turn towards mum, stuffing my bloody hands in my pockets, “They went home early, so I thought I’d head in for an early night too…” she waits to long to answer, and I swallow hard to keep from screaming. “Okay, honey…” she walks away… I can breathe again…

I climb the stairs to my room. Once the door is firmly closed behind me I fish out my cell to check for messages… there’s one…

‘U’r gona gt it bd @ skol fr the halown stunt u pold, bstd.’ 


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