Warning: pg-13 GORE
Edmund dropped his book on the pile and leaned back with a tired sigh.
I’d tried to forget the whole supernatural thing. I’d tried really hard to stop thinking about the burglar calling me a freak and Edmund saying it would be better if supernaturals didn’t exist. But against my will the thoughts had been plaguing me the whole week. I’d never given much thought about me being a witch – a supernatural. Once my parents decided to think I was a natural, all talk of witchcraft and magic and supernaturals just disappeared. I barely even talked about it with Erin, because – to be honest – my interest in my magic eventually died off. Since I didn’t know how to use it properly, I just decided to barely even use it at all.
But I’m wondering now if this lack of interest and effort is what’s causing my lack of control on my magic at critical moments. Maybe if I’d practiced more I wouldn’t have broken the window…maybe instead I would’ve had some clever spell to restrain him. If I’d had more control I wouldn’t have broken the tv at the bar and caused the bartender to get fired. Yeah, I know Erin is at fault too, but…I obviously caused the most damage.
When I start thinking about actually focusing on my magic those two events keep popping back in my head. And then I realize both Ed and the burglar are right. Supernaturals are scary. They’re scary powerful. I searched up that vampire scuffle Edmund talked about. It happened right in this town! Over a century ago there was a fight between vampires and witches. Even though it was between supernaturals, a huge amount of naturals became casualties. And then just a few decades ago, vampires and werewolves fought. Plus the three towns that were exterminated seventeen years ago. When supernaturals get pissed, naturals can’t defend themselves. No wonder most of them hate supernaturals.
I glanced at Edmund who was looking at me with a curious glint in his eyes. I just wish Edmund didn’t hate them. I don’t know if I love him, but I do know I want to be with him as long as possible. And I don’t want to hide my supernatural identity from him, especially when I want to talk to him about the burglar and what he said to me.
I need to know for sure. I need to be certain of Edmund’s views before I mull over this too much. Because if he really does hate supernaturals…then I don’t know if we’re going to last.
“Ed, do you really think…” My voice wavered and I suddenly wasn’t sure if I was even going to phrase this right. “I mean…do you really hate supernaturals?”
Edmund’s eyes widened. It was clear he’d expected me to ask something, but not that. Edmund let out a short sigh.
“Did I say hate? Geez, Xav I never said hate. I just stated facts.” Edmund said.
“Your father’s views?” I couldn’t stop the words from sounding harsh. I’ve been coming to dislike Edmund’s dad the more he talked about him and the more days that went by that I couldn’t treat Edmund like my boyfriend at school or in public places.
“What? No Xav!” Edmund said sharply which caught me by surprise. “I know I don’t always say the nicest things about him, but my dad isn’t a horrible person, far from it!”
“I wasn’t-!” I started to apologize but Edmund cut me off, a guilty look crossing his face.
“I know I’m sorry-” He said, but I interrupted him, still feeling the need to justify myself.
“I’m not saying your father is a horrible man at all! Though he’s not really my favorite person right now-” I said starting to trail off.
Edmund moved forwards shaking his head slightly.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped.” He said, resting his forehead on mine and effectively shutting me up. “A lot of people have started to get angry at my dad for some choic-”
I leaned forwards and gave him a quick pec on the lips.
“You don’t need to explain anything. It’s fine.” I said. I have to be more careful when it comes to his dad. “Now you were saying something about stating facts?”
Edmund smiled at me and sat back down.
“All I did was tell you about the things I read in books, in articles, saw on tv, heard from the adults. General knowledge. Supernaturals are an inequality. They unbalance things.” Edmund explained.
“Yeah, but all those people on tv are pretty biased no?” I said, trying to find some flaw in the truth I’d already come to realize. “I rarely see a fairy or a werewolf giving the news. Supernaturals aren’t as bad as you all make them out to be.”
Edmund frowned at me for a second before replying. “I’m not saying there are. I’m sure there are a lot of good supernaturals out there-”
“And bad supernaturals I know, but there are a lot of bad naturals too!” I insisted. There have been cases of naturals causing a lot of trouble too I’m sure.
“Naturally, but think about it. Between a bad natural and a bad supernatural who can cause the most damage?” Edmund said.
“Well…yeah I guess…” I hesitantly replied. I didn’t have any more arguments to defend supernaturals. And why should I anyway? I’m not responsible for the actions of a bunch of careless fairies, vampires, werewolves and witches.
“I was just saying that this whatever evolution is a good thing. Not that we should kill all supernaturals we see!” Edmund finished with a smile that asked for understanding. I smiled relieved.
“Ha, I feel kind of silly now.”
Ed shook his head. “Don’t.”
Okay, so maybe I jumped too quickly to conclusions. Maybe I could tell him.
“Hey Ed-” I’d started to say it, but I was interrupted by two things. First, a sharp pain that went through my chest and left as quickly as it had come. It was enough to cut off my phrase. And second, the doorbell rang. I got up to answer it.
Ah geez, I’d forgotten Oliver said he’d probably stop by.
“Hey guys!” Oliver exclaimed peeking inside the house and waving at Edmund. I let him in.
“Hey Oli, nice timing we were-” Ed said, and I was happy when Oliver cut him off. What? This is a discussion only Ed and I were having.
Oliver had sped past me, practically shoving me aside, and glanced around the room.
“Where’s Erin?” He asked once he’d finished his visual search.
“Not here.” Edmund replied, looking about as annoyed with Oliver as I felt.
“Pretty sure she’s home, enjoying her time alone.” I replied.
It didn’t take very long for me to come to the conclusion that all Oliver really cares about is Erin. I just wish he’d realize it’s never going to happen and leave Erin alone. Of course if Erin would be open to it that would be cool, I think they’d make an okay couple, but she isn’t so he should get a clue and leave her be.
“Ah darn it.” Oliver said snapping his fingers.
“You had something to tell her?” I inquired.
Oliver shook his head. “No I just wanted to see her.”
“Oliver…” Edmund began, stepping forwards, and I could tell he was thinking along the same lines as I was. It was about time Oliver stopped harassing Erin.
For just another small moment, I felt that same sharp pain go through my chest. I frowned, hoping this wouldn’t become a normal occurrence.
Oliver cut Edmund off before he could really start his phrase.
“Oh no you don’t, no lecturing me or giving me a talk or whatever. This conversation you’re thinking about is not going to happen.” Oliver said.
“You-” I tried to cut in, but Oliver interrupted me.
“What did I just say? Shhh.” Oliver insisted, placing a finger on his lips and gesturing at both of us. Even though Edmund looked annoyed at being shushed, he kept his mouth shut and so did I.
“There we go! Now let’s change subjects. What were you saying Ed? Before I interrupted you? Sorry about that by the way.” Oliver said with a full-toothed smile.
There were a few seconds of jaw clenching, before Edmund spoke. “Xav and I were talking about supernaturals. I was just going to ask you what your take on them was.”
And now I feel like vomiting. A familiar nauseous feeling had suddenly taken me over. I swallowed with difficulty. No worries, these usually don’t last that long.
“Are you kidding? They’re freaking amazing!” Oliver exclaimed. I raised my eyebrows at him, thoroughly surprised by his reaction. “Haven’t you heard of the Talent Troupe?”
Edmund nodded, but I shook my head.
“You don’t? Geez Xavier, you’re missing out! The Talent Troupe are a group of people composed entirely of unique and special supernaturals. They go around the world performing shows in towns and stuff. I’ve wanted to see one of their shows, apart from on the web, but they’d never come to Legacy Island II. You know, I also heard that even though they claim to be just performers, they sometimes do jobs that are bounty hunter related. Like hit mans and stuff, but you know rumors are rumors. One rumor that isn’t false though, is that they’ve made a site! I found it, but it was kind of a letdown. I was expecting like a home base full of videos and tricks and behind the scenes, but it was just this forum thing.” Oliver droned on and on, and with every word he pronounced it felt like the horrible nauseating heavy feeling I had was just getting and worse and worse. My hands were trembling slightly, my vision was getting black dots and I was starting to sweat.
I don’t have a fever do I?
“So you can guess that I left that site pretty quick and okay what’s going on Xavier? You look like you’re about to pass out.” Oliver said, changing subjects mid-sentence.
Edmund look at me worriedly. “Xav you okay?”
“I’m fine, I’m fine.” I said taking in a deep breath. “It won’t last long, it’s nothing.” I insisted, even though this was the worst it had ever been.
“Are you sick?” Edmund asked as he came closer.
“It’s okay Ed. This happens sometimes, it goes away after a while.” I said, trying to smile reassuringly, but the smile didn’t seem right. Seriously, what’s up with me right now?
“This is common?” Oliver asked. “What causes it?”
“I…I don’t know. It just happens from time to time.” I said shrugging, but as the words left my mouth I started to hypothesize. What’s the one common thing that I notice most of the time when this happens? Erin skipping school.
But it’s not like…then again who knows with magic.
“Do you need to lie down?” Edmund asked, taking my arm to guide me, but I stayed in place. If my hypothesis was right…if…
“You just thought of something.” Oliver said in a scary serious tone. What is it with this guy? Does he just know everything when it concerns Erin?
“It’s…it probably doesn’t mean anything, but whenever Erin skipped school I’d feel nauseous and sick.” I regretted the words after I’d said them. Wow it really sounded pathetic and on top of that these guys don’t know how badly Erin’s treated at home. “There’s probably no relation.”
But even as I said that, Oliver’s face hardened and he looked at the ground frowning like he was thinking intensely.
And then without any warning, Oliver rushed for the door and stepped outside.
“Woah! Oliver where are you going?” Edmund exclaimed rushing to the door like I was.
“I’m going to go make sure Erin is okay.” Oliver declared as he marched through the snow.
“You know where she lives?” I asked, realizing that Oliver knew more than I thought he did. He turned around and gave me a very simple answer.
“Yeah. It’s called stalking.” Then he grinned at his own joke, before running down the sidewalk.
“Let’s follow him.” I said to Edmund, grabbing my coat. He looked at me silently. My hands were still trembling a bit and I was still feeling nauseous. For a second I was scared Edmund would decide I was too sick to go outside, but instead he nodded and grabbed his coat.
The sink continued spat out its contents innocently. It didn’t know what a curse those drops of water were. It didn’t know the damage its weak knobs had caused. All it knew was
The water was spraying on my ankles and I tried to concentrate on only that. The little patter of drops on my skin. But it wasn’t enough to dull the pain on my throat and the pain in my mind.
My father had been choking me just a few seconds earlier. And if he’d continued I might’ve actually been dead at this point. I could finally be free from this…this everything. But instead, at the last moment he gave up on choking me. He flung me to the floor and went back to taking care of something more important. His wife. His dying wife. Or maybe she’s already dead. I don’t know.
“F*ck, sh*t,” That’s all he was doing. Spouting out curse words like they were going to heal mom’s wound. He’d reach for his phone and then slam it on the counter. Who could he call? Not the police. Not an ambulance. I don’t have anything holding me back anymore, I’d definitely tell them everything. I don’t care if I go to jail, as long as my dad doesn’t escape freely. Not after this. Not after everything.
Watching the blood continue to pour out of my mother and seep into the water, I felt a weird sick satisfaction. I won’t ever feel her slaps against my face. The painful shock of the wall hitting my back. No more yelling, no more punishments, no more angry glares. Her body was still, her face was still and hopefully her heart was as well.
I felt guilty, just a little bit, for taking such pleasure at the idea that my mother was dead. She didn’t exist anymore. But it was tiny…the feeling was barely existent, the satisfaction, the joy was much more prominent. So much so that the pain on my neck was slowly dulling away.
But then my father turned and looked at me, glaring at me, before he hesitantly reached for his phone, most likely deciding to call one of his numerous friends. That simple glare managed to shatter the positive feeling I was harbouring. With that came the realization, that even if he went to jail, my father would continue to haunt me, to torture me, as long as he was able to breathe.
My eyes drifted towards my feet, right beside them, where a metal object lay. I forced myself to sit up as my father started typing a phone number. I reached out and grabbed the object, giving in to its temptation.
I gripped the knife, my mother’s blood still dripping from its blade. I’ll end this once and for all. I’m half-way done. If both my parents were gone…I wonder what type of life I would lead?
I probably wouldn’t lead one at all. I’d probably go to prison. But at least, I’d have the pleasure of knowing I’d ridden the world of these two people.
I stood up, standing with my shoulders squared, and took a few seconds to watch my father. He was oblivious, he hadn’t realized his daughter was standing behind him, a knife in her hands. I glanced at the puddle and saw my reflection in the red water. The girl was smiling, praising me encouraging me, telling me it was almost over. All I had to do was stab.
I lunged forwards and forced the blade into my father’s side as quickly and with as much force as I could muster. My father let out a surprised scream and dropped his phone. It hit the ground with a tock splitting in two.
My father didn’t die however. He didn’t grasp his side like mother had done. He didn’t fall to his knees like she had. Instead, with a frightening growl, he reached backwards with his arms and tried to grab my hand.
Scared, surprised and maddened by the fact that he hadn’t died, that I wasn’t free yet, I gripped the knife both hands and twisted it harshly, pushing it farther inside. Then, when my hands were coated with his blood, I pulled out the knife and quickly took a step back.
My father tripped over my mother’s dead body with groans of pain, and fell to the ground.
I stood over him, watching move, crawl, groan…watching him live. Why wasn’t he dead yet? Why wasn’t my torment over yet?
With trembling hands he reached for his phone, but it had broken on its fall. He pounded his fist in anger, muttering curse words again.
“SHUT UP!” I yelled, unable to bear the scene. Why wasn’t he dead yet?
My father went silent, but I could see his arms trembling, I could see his chest painfully expanding as he breathed.
It’s not fair. My grip on the knife tightened and I kicked father. Once, in the side, just enough to flip him around. He did so, groaning in pain, and seeing his face only made me angrier.
I abandoned myself to my desire, lunging forwards and stabbing my father in the chest.
He tried to resist, but with very passing second he was growing weaker and weaker and I was stabbing him with more and more ease.
Eventually, I don’t know how long it took, my father stopped moving. He stopped screaming at me to stop. He stopped groaning in pain. He stopped fighting. He stopped breathing. I didn’t need to check his pulse. His chest was a bloody mess. There wasn’t any doubt. He was dead.
I dropped the knife and stepped away from my father.
I stood there, my eyes closed because I didn’t want to see it. I didn’t want to see what I had done. I focused on calming my beating heart, on realizing that it was done. I was free. I could be my own self now! I could be happy.
But the house was devoid of human noise. Eerily silent. A silence that pressed harshly on my shoulders. I felt sick and a pressure built up inside until I had to open my eyes.
And when I did, when I saw the mess, my parent’s lifeless bodies, the blood on myself, the horror of it all, something broke inside me.
I dropped to my knees. I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. I wanted to hit something. But the sight of all the blood paralyzed me. I felt frozen in time.
What had I done?
I tried to remember my reasons. I tried to remember my motivations. But now all I could see was my bloody hands and my guilty face.
I brought my knees up and held my head.
Frozen in time.
Hey little brother. Are you happy? I’m sorry, I dirtied the place you died.