Hated God

I'm Sorry that I Killed you

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I'm Sorry that I Killed you 

We judge everyday, without even considering deeper into the life's we offend. We blame people for being murderous, we blame them for being liars and even blame and insult individual's who don't fit into our norms. Norms however are nothing but a perception of the social constructs the society you belong to has created, being out of the norm does not mean you are less of a person or have a psychological disorder. Based from the knowledge of my social environment I grew up in I judged you as a ruthless serial killer, so I'm sorry, sorry I killed you without knowing more about the life you loved.

"Dante Run!" My heart beated or more like roared as I stumbled to reach the handle to freedom. He was on me too fast, and before I know it he threw me down and restrained me with chains. The only thought in my head was that I didn't want to die, but here he was with a knife against my neck.  

"I'll repeat the question again, just in case you didn't understand the first time. Your mom or your dad, one lives the other dies."  

The two choices weighed in my head. The choice between my mom and my dad. Who was better, who was my favorite? I couldn't answer that question. Though not biologically my Dad had given life to my mom. My mom who was bed ridden for years after my fathers death. My mom never looked at me during that time, even though I was the one who took care of her. I bought the groceries, I watched her health, though I would be disappointed to come home to find out she had cut herself on her wrists or ankles. I had to act like her parent, I had to be responsible, I was twelve. Still there was no one I'd rather love than my mother just to see her smile again. The smile that my new father finally gave her. 

I was always burdened with a tenacity, a strength to endure, the strength to deal with these types of situations and not go insane. This strength was burdened inside me every sense my grandpa passed away. 

I remember the day he died, it was winter. The snow blocked the roads and the ice had given my grandpa his last stand. "Grandpa!" This was not the usual warmth of my grandpa. There his body lay in stone, his eyes closed.  

"Mommy why is grandpa sleeping?" Tears were in my mothers eyes, tears I had not seen before. Too many tears, too many lives ripped away from my life. My eyes became red, and a tear was forming in my eye.  

"Stop crying, you Brat!" my biological father had said. "Yeah, he's dead get over it. You have to be strong if you want to survive in this world. If I ever see a sign of weakness again I will have nothing to do with you as a father." I swallowed my tears back up. I was three back then. That's when my innocents died, my grandpa, my role model, dead before my eyes unable to shed a tear in fear I'd lose the acceptance of my father. 

Everyone in my family was dead now. Over the years conspicuous deaths had occurred, leading to the death of each one of my family members, my ma and pa were all I had left. 

So why did this man want to kill them? My eyes shot back into focus I looked at the man's blade; I didn't know how he found us, or why he wanted me to choose. We lived in a secluded house, far from the cities, far from pretty much everything. 

The man's axe was swinging back and forth.  

"So which one is it boy, your mom or your dad. Which one should I kill." 

He said this with a cynical smile. He was enjoying this, relishing on my own fears. I didn't want to make a choice. My legs and hands were restrained, my face held up towards my parents. Who were now chained to the wall next to the man. Their bodies oozing a puss from the beatings the man gave them.