Expressional Little Stories

Won't ever forget

It was another exhausting day for Peter. As always he went to school and now it was time for him to return home to rest.

His home was the only place that could relax him and make him feel good. His house into the little oak forest. And of course his parents. These were the most precious things he had.

They weren't like school. At school he always had to do stupid tests and exercises that was making him feel dizzy and tired. Not to talk about these weird kids.

That thing he wanted to do this day more than at any other day was to go to his home and relax in his parent's hug, were he felt safe and innocent... But what difference did this day had? What happened at school? Even he, didn't want to think about it!

The school bus made it's stop as always with a characteristic annoying sound. Peter hated it. It made him creep and his ears hurt.

He got off the bus and started running towards the little oak forest. Something was different.

Suddenly a memory hit him like a wave and made him stumble.

''Peter is getting out of the boys bathroom but when he pushes the door...''

He started running faster, until he got into the oak field... He ran and ran. The mud had dirtied his shoes and had started dirtying his trousers. He ran... Another memory.

"A bucket full of water falls and wets him..."

He pushed the door of his little field with weeds house and got in.

- Mom! Dad!

No answer...

- MOM! DAD!

The only sound that he heard was the chipping of the few little birds that were left from the season of hunting. Something was wrong he felt it.

A weird smell was annoying his nose. Peter couldn't recognize what it was... He felt that it was coming from the kitchen.

Immediately his eyes looked there. A breeze blew from inside.

He started walking to the kitchen, he got inside and saw the fridge's door open... That explained the sudden coolness... But what was that into the fridge? Peter got closer and saw a bucket.

A bucket? Another memory.

"Peter with his clothes filled with water picks up the metallic bucket that had hit him on the head and then..."

Peter got closer to the fridge and looked the context of the bucket. Simply some red liquid... Peter unable to understand what it was he dipped his finger in the red liquid and tasted it. It had a metallic taste that made him sick. But could it be... BLOOD!?

Blood? Another memory...

"Peter throws the bucket with anger to the head of the kid that was responsible about all this mess and the kid fell down unconscious. A little lake of blood appeared near the boy's head."

Peter got the bucket out of the fridge and dipped his hands inside it searching for a clue. Nothing was inside.

Suddenly someone hit on the door twice. Peter was confused. Who was it? Was it his parents? He started running towards the door but after having a terrible thought he stopped. Who had put the red liquid into the bucket? And if it was blood from who and how had he got it? And if this terrible man had came back for him? He ran upstairs where his parents bedroom was. When he got in he saw something that he won't forget as many days he'll stay in this little clinic room for personality disordered kids.

His parents were both lying on the red, stained with blood carpet and next to them a bloody knife. Peter started crying. He kneeled and got the knife in his hands.

He understood exactly what had happened. After he had hit this boy on the head, he started running by fear he would be blamed. He was afraid of the boy's friends. They were cruel and bad... They would hurt him. Luckily he didn't meet them... They weren't at school they were somewhere even worse... They were at his house. They were responsible for his parents. They had gotten their revenge.

Meanwhile the police had broken the front door and was headed upstairs. The cops saw him with the knife in his hand. He didn't care if they'd get him. The most precious things he had in his life were destroyed.

He didn't even try to convince them he was innocent. It had no use.