I felt nothing as the bullet passed through my brain, and out of the back of my head. I was sleeping in bed, with my wife, her breathing being the only sound. I sat up in my bed, and glanced over to the side of my window. I smiled and got up on my feet.
I looked out the window, the moonlight shining through like a candle in the dark, with stars blinking in and out of my sight. The wind blew softly, without a sound. I turned around to get a look at the clock. The red numbers shined 6:30 AM. I decided to get down to business. I came down the stairs, careful not to break the fragile silence within the house. Walking towards the kitchen, I noticed something odd, out of place. I moved towards the dining table, and looked inside the bag. I felt a laptop, binder and pencils. “My son’s.”, I said, breaking the noiselessness the house was engulfed in.
It was an early Saturday morning, and my son had left the day before, to go see a friend. He barely said a word before rushing out of the house and closing the door behind him, leaving my wife and I with a confused look on our faces, wondering what was going on with him. I stooped down and picked up the bag, intent on leaving it on the side of his bed. I crept back up the stairs, careful not to wake up my daughter, who was surely tired from the week of school. Opening the door, my eyes adjusted to the dark quickly. I slowly walked towards the bed, but faltered. I dropped the bag with a light thump and grabbed the blanket. There was nobody there.
I stood there, listening for the flush of a toilet, an opening of a door, something. That something was not there, only silence in its place. I began to walk towards the bathroom with a quickened pace, knowing something was not quite right. My hand barely grazed the doorknob when I heard an ear-piercing scream, a scream of a little girl. I ran towards my daughter’s room, to stumble and fall right at the door. I threw myself off of the ground and through the doorway, knocking the door off of its hinges. My heart was racing, filled with rage, fear and confusion as my eyes looked over the scene laid out before me. The floor was covered in a thick sheet of blood, the posters lying on the ground, torn. My eyes darted to the center of the room, where I nearly cried out in agony. My daughter was sprawled out on the ground, covered in crimson, and my son stood over her, brandishing a knife, all while cackling with glee.
He turned around and set his eyes on me, the look of pure insanity within them. “Do you like what I did, daddy?” I struggled to get any kind of response out of myself, my eyes darting at my daughter’s broken body, my son, and the knife. He noticed my glance at the knife in his possession. “Do you like it?” he asked, his breathing getting more rapid and unpredictable. “N-No, son, I d-don’t.” His previous look of happiness left him, replaced with confusion and anger. “Why don’t you like it, daddy? WHY DON’T YOU FUCKING LIKE IT?” I noticed his grip tightened around the knife, and I looked up at him. I grabbed the nearest object in my reach and threw it at my son, then ran down the hall into my room.
My wife was wide-eyed as I flew into the room, locking the door behind me. “What’s wrong? What’s happening?” I said nothing, but looked in her eyes for a split second, and she knew that what was going on was serious. My son was banging on the door, screaming “Come baaaack daddy! I just want to plaaaay!” I rummaged through the nightstand while my wife was crying with fear, her tears streaming down her face like the river of blood that ran down my daughter’s neck. The door crashed down right as I found what I was looking for.
He stood still in the doorway for what felt like hours, staring at my wife and me with a fire in his eyes that I had never seen before. He laughed with a tone that seemed almost… inhuman. He leapt towards my wife, barely reaching her before I fired the gun. She stared into his lifeless eyes, still holding the insanity that had taken him. I fell to my knees, tears finally surfacing, all while the first rays of light showed through the window. My wife began sobbing louder, then stopped to stare as I picked up the gun once again and put the cold, steel barrel of metal inside of my mouth. The last thing I heard was silence, before the bullet passed through my brain, and out the back of my head.