bagheera

>> oblivion

You've got a warm heart, you've got a beautiful brain but it's disintegrating from all the medicine
- Medicine by Daughter

And then he snapped. In two. And then he shattered. Exploded into a million pieces that struck us all like a thousand darts. Piercing skin and drawing blood. Drawing so much that the tiles began to turn crimson red, the carpets were soaked through in humans. A glinting razor edge that split him in two. It split Mother and Father in two. And all I could do was watch. I watched with a numb tongue and broken eyes because I was beyond disbelieving that this was happening. So disbelieving that I had to believe that this was happening. </p>
<p data-p-id="1b56470e1a1a59a8447880be3f96199b">Splattered windows. </p>
<p data-p-id="b1f6b5c31d24e57dedb7da55138a2e60">Scattered screams. </p>
<p data-p-id="55bd42a776b9a46af00ae21ec7f77ff2">Shattering lives. </p>
<p data-p-id="dbdb8dd716b2dfe95bd6b577dceb8ece">And then there was silence. And I was alone. </p>
<p data-p-id="18d5fe973cdafb4a5fa551746c189ccc">And I had done nothing. Not a single fucking thing. Mother would tell me to not curse but she wasn't here anymore. And neither was Father. And neither was my brother. He had caused them to go away. And now the house was painted in red. So red, roses would be ashamed to bloom. Roses would be ashamed anyway. Because the scene was so filthy and ugly that something so beautiful should not grow here. Which meant that I had to get out. I could not stay here anymore. </p>
<p data-p-id="5bc5160a7d02598f7d9e61097e6d7822">Everyone would find out what happened here. They would find me in a pool of blood and three bodies and they would suspect me. The beautiful violinist named Marguerite DuBois who was just as mentally unstable as her brother. </p>
<p data-p-id="8a7ab20ec0ab3262ce329c7dcb399a4e">***</p>
<p data-p-id="9476dd23841d082b7d8f6e0fb306c89e">The violin was in its case. Essentials were in a bag on my shoulder. There were three large mounds of dirt that had my relatives under them. The makeshift graves were out in the garden that Mother always said would be a beautiful place to rest. I don't ever imagine she thought she would do just that. Everything that I owned even the books the clothes and jewellery and sheet music and everything else Mother said was what a lady needed to possess, were all in the large house on the hill that no one knew existed. </p>
<p data-p-id="569ed4ec2938dfda612171b1bc1b2bff">No shoes, only the clothes on my back, enough money to buy a house, violin and flyaway raven hair, this was me. And I had taken it for granted. This was everything that I was at the end of the day. I was all you see now. A sad girl who had once been happy in a house full of liars and wealth. </p>
<p data-p-id="d0ed67bf3e44b5d696e36fa830d78b88">But now my family was dead and there was dirt under my fingernails that I would never get out. So with everything I had, gasoline lines up the walls and down the stairs and corridors. The lighter blinked like an eye in the gloomy dusk. My free hand threw the lighter into the open door and the oil and blood soaked house ignited. </p>