Go To Hell :: Brallon

Dallon.

Hey guys! Oh god, I'm excited for this honestly- I'm writing this with @xXCollarFullXx  , so please go check out their part!  They'll be writing Brendon's POV, while I'll be writing Dallon's! So please, go check them out!

-

TW: Blood and gore

-

I heard a scream from beside me, making me turn from the limp body in front of me. My blood-covered hands were shaking uncontrollably, my breathing out of control. I stared at the person who found me- my mother. Great.

Before I could even utter a word she screamed, obviously fixated on the dead body.

This wasn't the first time I had killed someone, no definitely not the first. This was just the first time someone caught me actually completing it. I'll be honest, this wasn't my best work. I got mad. Dammit- that's how it always starts. I get mad. God, I get so mad!

I don't understand why. I get why I do it, but I don't understand why I get so mad. I don't understand why-

But everywhere I go! Everywhere I go people stare at me like I'm crazy! They give me looks, make faces at me, and call me names. It's not fair! I haven't done anything- They've deserved it! They've died because of what they've done, that's on them. Not me.

I looked at my mother, not paying attention to many of the words she was yelling at me. I know she was scared, and she had every right to be.

"What are you doing? Why do you do this! This- this isn't the first time, isn't it? I can't believe you- My son-" There was a slight pause. "No, I can! You- you mary!" Before I could control myself, I lunged forward, stabbing the woman with the makeshift knife I was already holding. The knife was sharp, I made sure to sharpen it every time after I killed someone.

I've always been like this, I know that much. My parents are farmers, our family has always been farmers, ever since the puritans sailed over here. I've lived in Salem Village my whole life, my parents have too.

I have a memory of when I was a child. I sat outside in one of our fields, holding one of our roosters in my arms. God, I hated those things, they always would chase me around and try to peck at my head. So it got what it deserved. It tried to hurt me, so I hurt it. I ended up killing it and started to- dissect it almost. While I was there, my father found me. Of course, he got upset with me, then dragged me inside and to my mother who seemed less pleased.

I had always been like that, that I know. As I got older, when my body started to change, my parents tried to set me up with this girl who lived next door. We had never been great friends, although we were forced to interact. She seemed to like me, but I had no interest in her. A few houses down from us, there was this boy. He had always been nice to me, which is why I liked him so much. He was handsome as well. Now I told my mom this, without knowing any better. Word spread, and people started to look at me differently. He stopped talking to me too.

Not long after I killed my mother, I realized what I did. Even though she made me mad, she was my mother. It threw me off. I didn't mean too- she was my mother! I ran away from my home, right through town. As I ran through town, covered in my family's blood, people started to follow me. I went to the gallows. There was a tree there, in an open field. Most of the time there was leftover rope, an empty noose. Lucky for me, there was.

I started to climb the tree, sleeping the rope over my neck. As I let go of the tree and fell, I saw him. All I could do was wave.

Halloween was quite interesting to me. I got to see children run past my, 'final resting place,' in different outfits, dressed up as things that I hadn't a clue what they were. I didn't understand it. It didn't quite start to take shape until the late 1800s, which was a little past my time. Yes, I was alive during the 1800s, right before the civil war.