Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-29514971-20160821142013

I climb out of my bed. Everything is blurry, my thoughts nothing but a mess as I walk towards my bedroom door. I cannot control my movements. I am confused, what am I doing? I walk slowly along the creaking floor of the hallway. The creaks are loud and unwelcome, and the urge to stop moving is immense. But I cannot control myself.

I must be dreaming.

I continue to walk along the waxed boards that make up the floor of the hallway. Every step is accompanied by a deafening creak. The darkness seems to echo the sound, making it sound so much worse than it already is. At the end of the hallway is the door to the kitchen. The sliding door is closed, and it makes a horrible noise as I slide it across.

I must be dreaming.

I walk towards the utensils draw, and pull out a small, blunt steak knife. It isn’t serrated, so it makes for a clean cut. What am I doing? Why am I doing this? I can’t stop myself as I slowly walk out of the kitchen, the floor’s creaking getting even louder. I try to stop my legs, to ram the knife into my thigh, something, anything to stop this.

I must be dreaming.

Back in the hallway, I walk towards a closed over door. From inside I can hear quiet snoring. I open the door, brandishing the knife as I walk into the room. My parents sleep peacefully on the bed. My Dad is snuggled up to my Mum. It’s a somewhat beautiful sight. But as I get closer and closer to the pair, I realise what I’m doing. I try to scream, I try to stomp. I try anything to wake them up. But I can’t. My body is not my own.

Please let me be dreaming.

My Mum is first. I run the blunt knife across her neck, cutting deep enough to expose the windpipe. Her eyes open wide in surprise. I look her in the eyes as she begins to struggle. I am crying inside, her look not fury, but a plea for help. I’m her eldest son and I can’t even help her. And suddenly I ram the knife into her eye. She instantly stops struggling. And through all that, my Dad continues to sleep deeply.

Oh fuck, what have I done?

Please God, please, this has to be a dream. A nightmare. It can’t be real.

I yank the knife out, slowly walking over to the other side of the bed. My Dad continues to snore. I’m screaming in my head, swearing, shouting at Dad to just wake up. But it’s too late. I’ve already run the knife along my Dad’s Adam’s apple. He attempts to scream, but all I can hear is gargling. I can see the blood run down his neck. He writhes in the bed, and I run the blade along his neck again. And again. And again.

I can’t do this. I can’t be doing this. Wake me up. An alarm, the annoying crows, someone. Just please. Wake me up.

I walk out of the room, strangely untouched by any of the blood. I can hear my Dad’s last gurgling breaths as I walk away. My sister is in her bedroom, and it’s there I head next. The creaking of the floor no longer bothers me, my head filled with images of my parents’ pleading faces. My Dad actually shed a tear when I was in there, and I died inside.

And I still can’t control my body. The only thing I can hope for is that I kill myself afterwards.

I reach my sister’s room, and she’s quietly asleep. She’s only 9 years old. I walk up next to the bed, the soft glow of her lamp illuminating the room. And I ram the knife into her chest. It doesn’t kill her. She opens her eyes, and looks into mine.

And she asks what I’m doing.

I can’t even respond. I just grab the knife and stab her again. She doesn’t make a sound. She just stares at me with a horrified look, her eyes begging me to stop, the tears running down her face, never ending.

The look on her face made me want to die. It made me want to ram the knife into my own eye and be done with it.

But there was still my younger brother. I walk out to the lounge, knife in hand. My brother likes to sleep on the couch for some reason. I can’t think anymore. I just want it over with. I want control of my body so that I may kill myself. So that I can join them in where ever it is we go when we die. Whether it’s the ground or a heaven above. I don’t care.

Just let this nightmare end.

I slit my brother’s throat, but for some reason I don’t cut it hard enough. I can only partially see a puncture in the windpipe. Yet I walk away to put the knife back. And suddenly I hear it. I raspy, gurgling voice.

“No… nonononono…”

I walk back and see him. He’s awake, feeling his neck, covered in his own blood. How is he alive? I notice he’s slowly suffocating. And he’s pleading with his eyes, but he’s not pleading for me to save his life.

He’s pleading for me to end it.

And then I say the first words to leave my mouth since I’ve woken up.

“Want me to put you out of your misery?”

“Y-Yes.” He replies.

I go back into the kitchen, and suddenly I have control of my body again. And it’s a horrible feeling. He wants me to end his life, and I don’t think I can. But I grab the sharp bread knife. It’s the biggest knife we have. I go back, and I smile at him as I place the knife in a position where I can impale his heart. So that he doesn’t have to suffer more than he should. He shouldn’t be suffering at all.

“I love you.” I sob out to him.

He reaches out and places his hand on my shoulder, “I love you too.”

He winces slightly, and then goes limp as I ram the knife into his heart. I collapse onto the ground. My hands are now covered with blood. I look at my brother’s face. He’s smiling. He died with a smile on his face. He looks so tranquil.

I start crying harder than I’ve ever cried before, and I pull the knife out of my younger brother. He was only 12.

I decide it’s time to end this nightmare. I place the sharp knife against my throat. But before I can end my own life just as I did my family’s, I wake up.

I’m laying in my bed. I have no blood on me. I check the clock, and it says it’s 9:00am. I shed a tear of joy, thankful that the dream is not real. I walk out to the kitchen, put one coffee and four sugars into a cup, before flicking the switch to boil the kettle.

I start to think rationally.

What an absurd dream. Killing my family?

You can’t kill what is already dead. 