Out of Time

Chapter 4

Whatever life was left in my mother drained rapidly down the handle of the knife I was still holding. A detached part of me appreciated how quickly she was gone. Not that she was mom anymore. But I knew I wouldn't be able to handle the memory of her suffering anymore than necessary. 

A high pitched shriek erupted from Isla, who had been standing behind mom. The shriek turned to a gurgle as I watched a fountain of red spew from her mouth. That explained the mess on the floor. It wasn't because they were hurt. Or, I guess they were hurt but not the way I imagined before. 

Isla stared at my through her almost white eyes. The blood still dripping from her mouth. Despite the lack of emotion on her face, I could tell she was pissed. The obnoxious shrieking started again and she raised her arms towards me. Her hands were angled up to my throat, her intention as clear as if she had spoke. 

Under the cabinet, Weston was quietly crying. But the crying seemed off now. It was interspersed with gurgling. His poor, innocent mind couldn't process this chaos. He had probably puked on himself while he was hiding. 

Isla must have sensed a change in him as well. With her hands still raised, her eyes diverted to the cabinet Weston was in. She grunted, then growled. Then her eyes were back on me. I don't know what I was waiting for. Looking back on the entire horrifying experience, I still can't tell you what took me so long to do what I knew needed to be done. 

The knife was still in my hand. Still slick with my mothers blood. And I knew, without a doubt, I would have to do the same thing to my sister. I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I thought of a dozen different scenarios that wouldn't end with me shoving a knife through my sister, but they all ended up with me looking like my dad and Paisley. There was only one way for this to go. I just refused to admit it. 

Weston stole a peek of the kitchen through a crack in the cabinet door. The creaking noise is what pulled my eyes to him, but what stole my attention entirely was the red liquid falling from his mouth. The graying of his eyes. It was happening to him, too. Whatever the hell happened to mom and Isla was happening to my sweet baby brother.

He didn't look scared anymore as he climbed from his hiding place. He looked terrifying. Just like Isla. Grayish white eyes, blood staining his face and clothes. Nothing familiar looking about him anymore. And he seemed to be on the same mind track as Isla. 

They both focused on me now and a sob ripped from my throat.

"Guys please, please don't make me do this.  I can't. I just can't. I don't want to hurt you guys, please come back to me," I didn't care that I was begging and pleading. I needed my brother and sister back. I needed them to go back to normal. 

Groans and growls were the only answer I received. They were gone. No longer Weston and Isla. Monster look alike. And Weston looked like he was out for blood. His tiny fingers curled in anger as he stalked towards me. 

"No, bubs, please stop!" my voice was growing hysterical. "Please, Weston."

When he stopped in front of me, he cocked his head to the side. Almost like was considering my plea. God, I was so stupid. With my focus entirely on Weston, Isla had snuck behind me. I realized that when I felt her hands go around my throat. With her new found super strength she managed to bring me to my knees incredibly fast. 

My hand gripped the knife tighter and I knew it was only a matter of seconds before I either passed out or ended her. At this point, passing out seemed like an answer to my prayers. If I passed out and they made a brunch out of my organs I wouldn't feel a thing.

My vision was blurring but I wasn't sure if it was the constant flow of tears or from lack of oxygen. Isla wasn't letting up my neck but I could feel her getting closer to my face. Her breath was hot and smelled of rotten trash. I could hear her mouth opening and closing. Her teeth gnashing together. 

It was getting harder to stay focused. I was fully on the floor now, supported only by Isla's lap. Still, she kept her arms locked around my neck and now Weston was starting to squat down. His little mouth snarling at me. 

This was it. I had accepted the fact that I was going to die at the hands, or mouths, of my brother and sister. My grip had almost loosened entirely from the knife. I doubt I would have the strength the raise my arm anyway. 

Isla's teeth almost made contact. I could feel her breath on my face, blood and spit flying out of her mouth and landing on my cheek. 

Damn self preservation kicked in at the worst possible time. I had already resigned myself to the fact that this was the end. But when the pain started from Isla's bite, a strength I didn't know I possessed drew my hand up with the knife firmly in my grasp. 

Without acknowledging what I was doing, the knife was in the side of my sisters head. I howled with the pain of what I had just done. Weston stared with his unseeing eyes as Isla feel backwards, a sickening thud sounded as her head hit the floor. 

Miraculously, the knife was still in my hand and not stuck in my sisters skull. Weston was moving to replace her spot behind me and my cries were reaching hysteria levels. He was going to make me do it. I know he was. That was how my morning was going.

I don't know what I did in a past life to deserve this form of torture. I had always tried to be a good daughter and good sister. Of course, I made mistakes along the way. Raising my voice at the little kids when I was on the phone and they were being too loud. Getting angry with the girls when they barged into my room without knocking. Complaining to mom and dad about having to change a dirty diaper. I wish I could take it all back.

As I sat on this soiled floor, the bodies of my mom and sister inches from me and completely lifeless, I made a promise to all of them that I would figure out what the hell happened here today. Once the shock wore off and I was able to start to process the entire situation, I was going to do anything and everything I could to fix this. No one else would go through something like this. 

Weston was much smaller than Isla it took a moment for my distracted brain to realize he was trying to get his face exactly where hers had been. I closed my eyes, drew in a big breath and landed the knife exactly where I had with Isla. 

The thud of his body landing on the floor is the last sound I remember before I blacked out.