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1-800-taxfraud · 1 year

Text

What do you think?

I listen to the faint sound of our stereo floating from the kitchen into the living room, barely loud enough for me to hear the lyrics while dad and I eat out shitty freezer burnt tv dinner and watch the news. I never did like the news, it was boring and always put me to sleep. All the reporters had to talk about was the weather (which is never interesting until tornado season), and our football team that I swear has never won a game. There was never anything life shattering like car chases and robberies. Hell, even homicide. But tonight is different, tonight there is going to be something so big, so life shattering that people will remember it for decades. I push the peas around on my plate that are far too mushy for my liking, when “BREAKING NEWS!” flashes across the screen. The reporter is absolutely gorgeous but every Sunday after church she heads to the Mallards trailer to buy crystal. There isn't a single person in this town that is a truly good person. Everyone here has done awful things. Even me. “This just in,” she begins. “Multiple bodies were just discovered on the dead end of Timberland Street that all look to be the result of a mass homicide. The families of victims were contacted and they have asked us to not disclose their names or any other information that could be linked to them.” she paused. “That being said, all but one of the victims were dead upon arrival. Unfortunately this individual shortly died of blood loss from what appears to be a stab wound. However, before they had died they stated that the killer that committed this heinous crime has a scar on their left forearm. That is all the information we have for right now, but we will update you the moment I know more, in the meantime stay safe everyone.” There is terror in her eyes but her voice stays calm the whole time she speaks. She is obviously scared, I mean who wouldn't be scared with a mass killer on the loose. Dad appears to be more focused on the tv than I was because when I stand up and say, “hey dad I'm gonna use the bathroom.” he hardly acknowledges me and keeps his eyes glued on the tv screen as he flips his knife open and closed over and over again. He only ever does this when he's invested in something. I walk into the kitchen and pull down the sleeves of my sweatshirt the moment I'm out of his sight, hoping he doesn't notice the three inch healed laceration that I never mentioned to him, or the dark crimson blood under my short bitten nails and speckled across my cold pale skin. “Oh, and is it my turn to do the dishes”? I shout into the living room. My heart feels like it's about to explode out of my chest. Something isn't right. He doesn't know, does he? He can't, there is absolutely no way. “No, I think it's my turn today, but when you're done in the bathroom we need to talk about something.” he calls back, attention still on the tv and his knife.

#books #my writing #writing

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