empty december.

vi.

she was gone and my bloody attire was proof.

the deed was done. i could go back to the shit that is my sad tragic life without having to think about wiping a liar out of this small town's population.

i burned all evidence in the forest behind my house. after the flames were out, i retreated to the comfort of my room.

my walls were a mixture of black, red and white.

black to represent my soul: dark and evil.

red to represent life: the ending of someone's. red, the precious color of blood.

white to represent what used to be before everything became fucked up.

my dad wasn't even home. no doubt he was working. when mom 'died', he sort of became even crazier.

truth was, my mom commited suicide. she knew my dad was a crazy son of a bitch when she married the guy but she thought she could change him through the power of love. that thought made me want to gag.

love doesn't exist bitch. it's only something pussies feel. mom had convinced him to change his ways but once a killer always a killer. eventually he began to fall back into his old habits; showing me a couple of times.

i don't remember much or how it all boiled down but i remember my dad saying he was going to blow up this building. my mom knew and i knew. that didn't stop her from going inside 2 minutes before he blew the place up.

she was gone.

dad became 10 times crazier.

and i was following in his footsteps.