Wingless

Introduction

I didn't mean to.

I dropped the knife from my hands and slowly backed away.

I didn't mean to do it.

Blood stained everything; the wooden floor, my hands, my clothes, and the lifeless corpses I used to call my parents.

I jumped and screamed at the touch of my back against the door. It was so painful. My hot tears burned my eyes as I fell onto my knees, looking at my bloody hands.

I didn't mean to do it.

I really didn't mean to, but I had to. I had no other choice, I couldn't let them keep doing what they were doing to me. I got up and ran to my room. Grabbing a duffel bag, I started stuffing all of my clothes in it.

I tried to ignore the blood and my white beauties laying on my bed, but it was so hard. I cried harder the more I ignored them. It hurt so much. Almost like getting your heart ripped out of your chest.

I carefully swung the strap of the bag over my shoulder and opened my window. Jumping from the second floor, I fall with nothing to catch me anymore.

I screamed as I hit the ground in pain again, crying harder at the tenderness of my back. As I get up, I wipe the tears away from my face and run. As fast as I could to anywhere. I felt the muscles in my back tense up as pain shot through my back again. I had to remember I didn't have them anymore.

I had to climb the building instead.

I sat down on the graveled roof and threw my duffel bag in anger. I pulled my knees up to my chest and tucked my head into the crook of my arm.

My thoughts made my heavy heart ache with so much torment, I felt alone and abandoned.

Even when I was with my parents, I was alone and abandoned.

I had to fight back this time.

I didn't know what to do, but I had to do something.

I was tired of being beat and abused. I was tired of being treated like nothing. I don't know what I did wrong, but for punishment, they cut off my wings.

Rage filled my body, and my nails dug deep into my palms as I clenched my jaw.

They deserved to die.

I did nothing wrong and they punish me for it. They punished me for something that wasn't my fault. I didn't ask to be different, and they took the only things I cared about away from me. My wings. My beautiful, angelic wings. I felt empty without them. They never let me down, and now I don't have them anymore. And it's all because of the bastards I used to call parents. I murdered them, and excepting it, I became a killer. I'm a killer and I'm only 13.

They deserved to die.

I shouldn't have trusted them. I felt stupid for thinking they'd change. They took it too far tonight. I was alone tonight, and I'd be alone for the rest of my life. I had no one. And the least the better. When you're alone, no one can hurt you.

Never show weakness.

Always stay strong.

Depend on no one.

Never trust anyone.

And never love.