A bit more of my story.

I am actually making this up as I go along, so don't hate on me please!!



Then, it happened. In one second my life had been turned upside down and inside out. I had watched those movies before where right at the last second they get saved, and everyone smiles. But no. It wouldn’t work for me would it. It never did. My life was a mistake, a lie. Even though I masked it with pride, I was in pain. Mike had a girlfriend, me liking him made me feel worse. I was living a lie.
As I heard the gun spit out the dull iron bullet it had already shattered his skull and penetrated his prefrontal cortex. My father’s blood sprayed on my jade walls, staining my curtains and smothering my doctor who posters. But I didn’t care anymore. I didn’t care about me anymore.
I then saw the masked man turn to my mum, but drop his gun. Would he spare my beautiful mother? My mother, who had raised me, loved me and cherished me. My mum who I could love more than the doctor or Mike, than any person with a fictional relationship with me. No, he wouldn’t. That bastard withdrew a small kitchen knife that, that I had left out on the kitchen side, after cutting my sandwiches for tomorrow’s day of school. He began to walk towards my mother. I looked at my mother’s stunning face for the last time, she was crying. Her mascara had run down her face, and she was shaking. I wanted to walk out and stab the murderer myself, but I knew that I would be killed as well, and I was too much of a coward to save my mother. I had disgraced our family. I wanted to sit down with her, stroke her hair and tell her everything would be ok, we would then go downstairs together, make cups of tea and just talk all night. She would then kiss my forehead and tell me to go to sleep. That was what I wished could happened so much it hurt.
But the intruder began to repeatedly stab my mother, a total of fourteen times. Seven times in the stomach, three times in the neck, once in the face and three times in her left leg. She bled so much it reached the wardrobe and soaked the floor. I was sitting there, crying in a pool of my mother’s blood.