A gun shot fired, shaking the walls of our beautiful Victorian home,causing a horrible ringing in my ear. My fragile eight year old mind knew exactly what it was.
I slowly began to edge toward my parent's bedroom, knowing only what my imagination had told me to expect. I could only see the the blood and gore coating their expensive sheets and perfectly polished oak furniture.
My heart was pounding and I felt as though I was going to faint. I began to turn the doorknob. The creaking of the door added suspense as I saw my father drenched in blood, leaning over my mother's lifeless body. I began to cry as I saw the all to familiar fear in her beautiful, caring, blue eyes. I quickly stopped when I saw my dad's face. He showed no remorse. I knew I had to get out of there, and fast.
I began to run and even as my body could physically go no further, I still couldn't stop. Even as the sharp pebbles on the side of the road stab into my bare feet sending a jolting pain through my body with every step.
YOU ARE READING
Never ends
Short StoryIt only takes one person to break the cycle sadly sometimes, that person doesn't come at the right time