(A/N: so shit is going down at school so I'm fucking sad and shit so loll.
Gore warning. )
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Kyles POV
How would I comprehend what was about to happen at my house. I can't tell the future. I was rushing and pushing myself to an expanded limit. My legs ached and my stomach was cramping, and I finally managed to get to the front door of my house. Eric ran with me, wheezing half the time.
"Jesus fuck Kahl. Coulda *heave* slow down." He said obviously struggling.
"Sorry." I said quickly, making my way into the house only to fall to the floor.
My mom, hung onto the ceiling fan, was dead. Her wrist slit, and her stomach was cut open from the bottom, and it seemed the murderer, if there is one, was searching for a certain organ. Her eyes had been cut out, only hanging by a string of eye organ. Her mouth was filled with blood. A trail of blood led down to the floor, staining my moms favorite carpet. The blood led to a small box, with a note on top of it. I went over slowly, reading the note:
'Hello my love Kyle,
I've killed your mother. It's against your religion to be gay anyways. We can finally be together. And next will be Cartman. I can't have him stealing you from me too now, can we?'
I had anger written all over my face. I opened the box to see my mother's heart. I ran upstairs as Eric ran after me. I locked my door and got all my shit together. I grabbed a knife, and my sweater. I grabbed a machete, a shovel, and a shotgun. I grabbed a lot of bullets so I wouldn't run out, and shoved them in my side pocket of my camo saggy jeans. I tucked my jeans into my boots and ran to my dad and moms room. I grabbed a little camo strap bag, and placed waters and extra bullets. I grabbed my dads knife and his Kippah, shoving the hat in the bag, and the knife in the side of my knife holder that my dad gave me. It raps around my waste. I grabbed a satchel and shoved my Walkman and headphones in them, running to Ike's room. I cried at the sight. He was gone too. He had his head cut off. I felt anger in me, and threw a toy at the wall. I grabbed his favorite toy and laid him to rest in his bed. I looked to his dresser and saw a family photo. I grabbed the photograph and shoved it lightly in my bag.
I was going to find the bastard who killed them.
And when I do..
They'd better be ready for hell.
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(A/N): sorry it's short. I'm tired.
Lmao
