I Wrote This. Gonna Keep Writing It, Too.
- Locked due to inactivity on Aug 4, '16 4:21pm
Thread Topic: I Wrote This. Gonna Keep Writing It, Too.
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I've tried understanding the immense fury that pulses through every single molecule in my body when I think of them. They tell me that they were the good guys, that I did wrong, but the voice thinks ever so differently. Now, the people they call the most important humans in my life, are gone. They were going to get me anyway. Maybe stick a knife in my heart when they find me sleeping, or at my weakest. Laugh and cheer victoriously when they bury me somewhere deep in the woods. Now who got to have the last laugh?
They were so....vulnerable at the time.....Frightened...Horrified....No, mortified....By none other than me. Three simple shots. One! Two! Three! The voice said they would be back soon after they were gone...after they bled to death....After they were...dead...Everyone tells me that they won't be back. NoNo...They will be. I'm positive. Mom will make breakfast, while I tell bad jokes, and Max gives me playful punches on the arm. Dad will smile brilliantly and read his newspaper....Tell us what great kids we are....Tell us he's proud of us...I'm sure.
"Matt? Matt? Listen to me!" I hear. I am snapped right back into reality, out of my own little world, out of my thoughts. I put my eyes on Oliver in a smoldering glare. How dare he interrupt me when I'm thinking? I am quiet, as usual, around Oliver. Why must he talk to me? I'm half tempted to take him to the lake and make sure that's where his last breath is. He's no good. He's just like everyone else. Out to get me. Wanting to hurt me. Wanting me gone....
"Matt?" He says again. I want to take the pen in his hand and stick it in his skin a billion times. Take him to a dark alley and beat him up.
Then why don't you? The voice says.
"Because...there would be too many witnesses." I answer. Oliver immediately scribbles this down on his little yellow notepad of his. I suck in an exasperated breath.
Ha-ha. Too many witnesses...Dear boy, don't you remember...He'll be back...Just like Max, and your father, and your mother... it says. I don't reply. That little yellow notepad annoys me so much. I stare down at it. I wish that it would just disappear, here and now. All of Oliver's prior notes would vanish off the face of the Earth. Then maybe sooner or later he would, too, if I wished hard enough...or if I decided to get the job done myself.
All of a sudden, Oliver pulled out a picture of a gun. I stared at it. I felt myself trembling. I wanted to hide. Retreat to darkness. Get away from the picture. Run. Just run and run until I was no longer near it. I wanted to rip the picture into a billion pieces. Get it away from me. I look down at the floor, needing to take my attention away from that picture. My mind floods with thoughts and images, there to haunt me. I want to explode. Leave the room. Die. Anything to get away. He's doing it on purpose. He's trying to hurt me. Trying to make me petrified. Trying harder and harder by the minute.
"Good, I have your attention," Oliver states. I knew he was doing it on purpose. He better watch his back. Ill get him. Maybe in his sleep. Nail him to the wall. Make him want to scream and shout, and no one will come to his rescue, like a superhero. What a sight that would beOlivers end. That would be so precious, satisfying, even. My eyes met Olivers. I begin to wonder what people feel on the inside, when they are not showing their true feelings on the outside. Oliver always seems so cautious and stern around me, yet when hes with other humans, hes so lively and humorous. Why cant he be like that with me?
I realize Oliver is still in the room. He must have taken a note on how I still havent even bothered to answer him. He honestly doesnt deserve an answer from me. Hes just like the tiger from my dream.
"Oliver, I dont want to talk anymore. Im tired. Please, just let me sleep, or rest, or something." He lets out a frustrated sigh, and stands. At least hes doing what I ask him to do for once. Cant be ungrateful for that, now can I? He exits the room, closing the door behind him. I dont even try to fall asleep. Why try when you know that all youre going to get is twisted tales of gore and nightmares and what-not? When all youre going to get are the very faces that tried to end your life...And took away one of your own.
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