Prologue

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  • Dedicated to Brad Gottschalk
                                    

Even as the blade of the knife tore through the man’s flesh, the blood trickled down onto the kitchen’s tiled floor, and the toe curling screams roared through the empty house, I was not satisfied. I stood over the grown man lying on the floor, using his arms to shield himself like the coward he was. I stand over him wearing on my white night gown which was stained in blood, my brown hair falling over my face, taking in the sight of the pathetic human being begging for his life-asking for me to give mercy and to allow him to live.

To live?

Why should I allow this man to live?

For years he had done nothing but make my own life a living hell. Dating my older sister for years, finally marrying her only last year. The entire time he was in the next room fucking her, only to wait for the right moment afterwards for his lover to fall asleep and to sneak into my room and to have his own way with me. Coming to rape me and then go back to bed next to my sister and in the morning act as if nothing had happened. 

To live?

I think not. 

So I’m just standing here, my eyes locked on his face, watching as the color and the life drain from him; Again, I was not satisfied. I was hungry for more-to makes him suffer the same pain he made me suffer. 

I look up at the clock, seeing my parents will return home soon, knowing I only have a short period of time to finish the job. They left to go with my siblings to a musical for my little brother’s birthday, and when Josh’s sorry ass decided he didn’t want to see it; I knew I had to take this time to do what I have longed to do; pretending to be sick and promised my brother that I will make it up to him. I felt bad for lying to him, because after tonight, there will be no tomorrow.

“P-Please...” The man beneath me whimpered, holding his side that was oozing with blood. “Let me live...let me-”

“Shut up!” I find myself screaming, glaring at him coldly. My heart racing as my anger caused my blood to boil. “You pathetic excuse for a man...what’s the matter, Josh? Did you lose your balls?” I stepped over him, moving to start to circle him like a lion circling its prey. “For years I have also pleaded to you...what do I get in return? Pain...torture...” I can feel my eyes watering up, exhaling shakily as I gripped the chef knife’s handle tightly. 

“I’m sorry...I’m so sorry...” The man cried, moving to turn to his side, reaching a bloody hand to touch my bare foot, but I stepped back. His body slowly getting weaker and weaker as he lost more and more blood. He lay on his stomach, burying his face into his arm. “I’ll-I’ll tell them everything. I’ll admit to it all, please, Ari...please, I’m begging you...please call the ambulance...please, I don’t want to die!” His cries were muffled.

“That’s not good enough, Josh.” I say, moving to step one foot over him, moving to straddle his hips, a hand traveling up his back. “I didn’t want you inside of me, but hey...it’s part of life, is it not? Isn’t that what you told me before? Telling me that sex was just part of life that I was going to lose my virginity anyways? Well...I have something for you.” I leaned into him, moving to whisper into his ear from behind. “Death is also part of life...you’re going to die anyways, why not just speed things up a bit.” And with that, I sit up and I hold the handle tight with both hands, raising knife up and quickly the blade came down and pierced his back, blood pouring out as the man screamed. I raise the knife again, stabbing him again, but that wasn’t enough. No, I kept going, and going. Blood splattering the kitchen cabinets and myself, staining the once all white kitchen with red. I grin deeply, laughing like the manic I was as I began to sing my favorite song from my favorite Disney cartoon. “Oh, painting the roses red and many a tear we shed. Because we know they'll cease to grow, in fact, they'll soon be dead. And yet we go ahead painting the roses red!”

I continue at it, stabbing him over and over lost in my own cold mind until I see lights entering the kitchen window. I turn and I saw that my parents were returning home, and I quickly stand, making my way down to the basement. Fingers tenderly touching the railing, stepping down the last step I go over to the electric box, reaching up and flicking the power off.

The font door creaks open just moments after, allowing me to hear my mother’s voice. “What happened to the power? Josh? Ari? Hello? We’re home!”

I head up the steps, with the knife still in hand I run my free hand against the walls, smearing the warm blood along the way. “Ari?” I hear my father.

My father...what if he tries the same thing Josh had done to me? 

No...I can not allow that to happen.

A light flashed along the hall and onto me, making me wince.

A flashlight.

I stop walking, seeing a small figure come into view around the hall. “A-Ari?” I hear the soft voice. 

Cameron...

His green eyes widened as the sight of his older sister covered in blood was enough to put him into shock, making his lips quiver as he moved to step back. “What happened...?” He asked in a soft whisper.

I step forward, but he stepped back again. “It’s okay; Josh just got into an accident.” I say, walking up to him. His eyes landed on the knife, gulping hard. “Come here. I want a hug.” I whisper, holding my arms out. He studied me, almost as if he was contemplating to do so or not. But the moment he started to step forward, we both could hear my mom’s screams. Cameron turned with wide eyes to look in the direction, but I quickly put an arm around his neck, pulling him back hard against my body and raised the knife, plunging it into his chest. The only sound that left his lips was a soft gasp.

Dropping his body to the side, I looked up and saw my mother running down the hall but stopped short when she saw her youngest laying in his own pool of blood. “What did you do?!” She screamed. “Herald!! Stacy!!”

“Don’t worry, mother. You’ll be with them soon enough.” I say with a smile, marching towards her. She gasped loudly, turning to run, but I ran behind her, quickly shoving her hard onto the ground, gripping her hair into my hand and used the knife to slit her throat. I hear people running towards me, feeling someone yank me from my mother, I look back and saw my father.

“How could you do this?” He shouted. 

If only he knew...

I turned to look at him, glaring with full of anger. “Like this!” I pull my arm from him, raising my knife and I plunge it into his forehead. I can hear my sister screaming behind me. I watch the body fall hard, and I look over and saw my sister covering her mouth, her eyes wide with tears running down. “This is all your fault, Stacy...” I whisper, moving to take the knife from my father’s skull. “This could have all been prevented if you hadn’t met that son of a bitch.”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“And that’s your fault!” I scream, tears welding up into my eyes. “Your fault for not paying attention. Every night your so called ‘perfect husband’ came into my room and fuck me like I was some filthy tramp that he could use  because my sister was apparently not good enough for him!”

Stacy’s eyes widened, staggering back. “Y-You’re lying! He did not-”

“He did!” The voices echoed into the empty house. 

“You’re a liar! Josh would never do such a thing! He loved me!” 

Her ignorance only pissed me off even more. Clinching my teeth together, I grip the knife so hard. This was why I didn’t tell anyone. The sheer of knowing that they will not believe me was the reason why I couldn’t tell them. There was just no point in doing so, which only led me having to get rid of him myself-and all those that did nothing to help.

“He didn’t love you, Stacy...” I walk towards her, seeing her stepping back, the lights of red and blue just outside of our house. “I didn’t either.” I lift the knife, and before she could even think about running I bring it down, stabbing her in the chest. She fell hard, and I straddle her, watching as the blood stained the white carpet. I grinned darkly, moving to stab her over and over again, singing, “Oh, painting the roses red and many a tear we shed. Because we know they'll cease to grow, in fact, they'll soon be dead. And yet we go ahead painting the roses red!”

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