Remember. (Sequel to LTFY)

Chapter Fourteen.

Unedited!

Sophie's POV:

I scan all over the room I was in, confused as to why I was here in the first place. Everything started to become more recognizable once the blur I was enduring had vanished. It was the main room from where I used to live. With my parents.

At the mention of them, my dad appeared from the kitchen with a frustrated expression. He wore his usual white tee shirt and loose blue jeans. The tee shirt was wet at the bottom, which leads me to believe he was washing something.

I watched as he peek through the peep-whole before opening the door. "Who are you?" He asked the figure standing before him.

Tears dwelled in my eyes as Fred smiled politely at my dad. "Hello, I'm Mr. Williams. We spoke on the phone this morning to discuss about your daughters grades?" He said, sounding like an innocent man.

I wanted to run over to them and push my dad out of the way to slam the door in Fred's face, but couldn't. My feet were glued to the ground. I could see his car outside, and in it were Henry and me. Anger boiled in me as I saw Henry move positions. It was the time when he had bangs swooped to the side, along with the rest of his hair.

He knew something was going to happen, he must've.

My attention was brought back on my dad shutting the door and showing Fred to the kitchen. Finally, my feet were able to move and so I followed them. My mom wore an apron over her work clothes as she placed a dish to the side. She turned once the two entered the room. "Who's this, honey?" She questioned.

"Bertha, this is Mr. Williams. He's here to discuss Sophie's grades. She's failing his class."

What! I was passing with a high B! This was a trap!

My dad offered Fred a seat while pulling out a chair for my mom. Fred declined, "oh, no. If you don't mind. I prefer to stand."

"Oh, that's fine. Would you like a drink? Water, a coffee maybe?" My mom offered.

"I'll pour it myself, if that's okay?" Fred interjected. My mom stared at him with a puzzled expression. I wanted to move, but body would not. I'm frozen in my spot as everything unraveled before me. Fred picked up the coffee holder and smashed it over my dad's head. My mom screamed my dad's name and tried to help him, but—Fred had smashed a vase over her head.

"Mom! Dad!" I yelled with tears streaming down my face. I knew what was to come next. "Leave them a lone, you mother fucker!" I growled at Fred, but he didn't flinch nor listen. It was as if I wasn't even there.

He grabbed two ropes and tied up their ankles and wrists. Fred then walked over to the kitchen counter and grabbed the cloth my mom had used to dry the dishes. He ripped it into two pieces and used it to muffle their screams.

"No!" I yelled, trying to move my arms—but I stayed in place. Fred had pulled some gloves on and then pulled out a pocket knife. There were red initials on it, contrasting with the black color of the weapon. I burst into hard core sobs once he stretched his arm far behind him and then. . .drew it across my dad's throat in a flash. The same he did to my mom's throat. Their blood splattered onto his light blue dress shirt.