I Loved, But I Killed

The Dare

THIS CHAPTER IS REALLY SHORT I'M SORRY

"Oh my god, that is too great, lol... wait...ARE YOU SERIOUS!?" I tried to laugh it off, but no, Julia's blank expression bore into my soul and I knew she wasn't kidding. I gripped my pink hair in fistfuls, trying not to lose my sanity thanks to six words.

"Alex, I dare you to... to kill him." It was short but sick, and somehow I knew what she wanted. Kill dad.

It's not like I love my father. He kicked Julia and me out of our home when I was only thirteen. Thankfully, Julia had a savings account, a job, and was 18, so we were legally able to move out. As if I care what's legal anymore. I said truth right? Of course we have to start with truth. But this is what you get.

I flash back to after the day of the dare. After the day of the dare, there was the day of the death. Death. Dare. Death dare. Dare death. Ha. I like those words.

I left in the middle of the night, not really wanting Julia to know I was going through with this. As I walked the dark midnight streets, I became more accustomed to the fact I was about to kill my own father. I don't love him. Fact is, I hate him. He has no right to what he did to us. Julia and I.

I crept silently along the street, the dim street lights being the only thing that allowed any small bit of visibility. I don't know why I wore white. It was probably the only color I owned, besides pink. I found my old home. The lights were on inside, but the only place that any life was found was my father's bedroom. First I looked to see if he was asleep, which he was, he must've put himself to sleep with the pills and alcohol he's obsessed with. I crept into my own room. It was just the way I left it. My bed was made, my stuffed animals placed on the pillows. My anime posters were still all over the wall.

I walked into my father's room and woke him. I have made a rule that I cannot kill anyone in their sleep.

"Dad, it's Julia. She's next, don't worry." I whispered into my father's ear and pulled the trigger.

BANG

I did it. He was dead and I felt... good. Blood soaked my clothes, my once white dress a crimson red. A smile crept up my face, and I craved to kill again. I felt the gun in my hand, and it felt smooth and nice and... cold, like my father's skin when he was entirely dead.

I continued to walk home and continued to feel the gun. I felt the trigger again, and I accidentally pulled it, shooting myself in the leg. It was an abandoned neighborhood almost, more of a neighborhood of summer homes for the rich. It being winter, no one was around. I bled out alone, laying silently in pain and having no fear of death. A dark red blanket soaked me, and my vision blurred, leaving me in final darkness.