Knife

7 - Parents

//* I'm so sorry, but I just can't really find the motivation to write lately :/ I'll still try to update about every 2 weeks though :)

Somehow, suspicion never even touched me. I was glad for it, because it meant I didn't have to create any silly excuses or lie extravagantly to get out of saying the truth. When the crimson blood finally touched my skin, the exhilaration finally stopped. The adrenaline rush stopped. I didn't have the energy to keep killing.

I guess I'll have to wait until I have to do it again.

So I didn't look for another target. I didn't want to, I didn't have to. I let everyone live their happy lives, and I was content with mine. Lizzy's death never ended up being solved. I'm sure that her parents grieved, but I couldn't find it within me to care. She deserved it. She didn't do what I needed her to do; I only gave her a fitting punishment. She deserved it. She deserved it.

And so after a month or so, I ended up forgetting about Lizzy and everything that happened except that I had killed--Who was it again?

Lizzy never mattered to me unless she was alive and ruining my plans. Other than that, I had never cared about her. No one mattered to me, in reality. When I look back on it now, I realize I had only needed attention since I couldn't really wish for attention that I knew was forced by me onto my parents. I couldn't have that. That was too out in the open, too easy to see that I simply wanted to be able to receive attention.

No. I couldn't be the only one enforcing everything. Control was needed, but I couldn't simply force everything upon everyone. No. But I would still get my way in the end.

***

My only real obstacles were my parents. How would I get them to love me, the me that I was, the reality of me, without having to use my powers? Back then, I couldn't see my greed, my huge flaws that made me unworthy of any love that was given to me. I couldn't see that I was asking for too much, asking for love that I never should have had. I also couldn't see that in reality, my parents really did love me. I was completely blind to the fact that parents, no matter who their kids may be, they would always have their parents's love.

But I yearned for the love I already had, the love I was permanently unable to see. When my eyes only scraped the surface of everything that there was to see, this is what I wished for. I wished for what I couldn't see, to have what I already had.

I was blind. Completely blind to anything and everything. When I look back now, I see that my eyes were completely useless. To be able to see and unable to see at the same time, to see everything before me and nothing at the same time, that was me.

But when I did try to go about "getting my parents to love me," I never really knew what I was doing. No wonder in the end, I killed them.

***

I loved my parents, if I was ever capable of love. They answered to my every demand, to my every wish. They gave me what I wanted, almost no questions asked. They knew what I thought a lot of the time, and I could see that they had just wanted the best for me. But somewhere along the line towards today, I lost the vision that could've changed everything for me.

I saw hate. I saw mistrust. I saw neglect.

I saw everything through a cloudy haze of negativity, warping everything positive to a complete opposite, creating a lens of red, a lens of hate.

When I was three, I asked for all the toys in the world.

When I was four, I stopped my parents from selling all of them.

And yet, they still managed to get me all my necessities every day. I had clean clothes, water, food, a roof over my head. I had everything I needed, everything I wanted.

Blind to it all.

My five-year-old couldn't comprehend it.

Is that your excuse?

Excuses? They meant nothing now. Now when my parents are gone, all the excuses in world, all the tears in the world couldn't possibly bring them back.

But my 7-year-old self didn't know this. Didn't even bother to go close to there. Thought that just because I wanted something, I would get it. It had seemed perfectly logical; I had never been denied anything in my life before. All it ever took was a single wish, a single thought, and then I had it.

This was my very first challenge. And I guess I'm not very good at succeeding in challenges. Because what happened?

Irreversible mistakes.