Night and death

~7~

I lunged for my parents killer.

My fingers latched around her throat, and I squeezed at hard as I could. I'm glad I killed them. I would be glad to kill her then.

"Anathalia, please," she pleaded.

"You killed them," I yelled at her face, spit flying, "You happily killed them and left me all alone. How could you? How..." My rage ebbed away and was reduced to sadness, "How could you?" I asked again, softly this time.

A low laugh came from the man at the front of the room. Then another. Then the blue-eyed male was howling, hands on his knees as he watched the scene before him.

"You two," his laughter echoed throughout the room as I released my hands from her throat in confusion, "do you really think you precious Aunt Elanor, the lady with a heart of gold, killed your nobody parents?" he asked me, hands tearing through the air.

This was another one of my dreams, I told myself over and over again. And in dreams, I could do whatever I wanted.

So I told him, "Yes I do believe that she," I said, pointing at Aunt Eleanor, "killed my parents in the dead of night, then admitted to it before she killed me too."

"You poor ignorant little girl. Well, I'll leave you to figure it out. Toodle-oo!"He said. Again, he gave me a knowing smile. And I'd had enough of this. If I was indeed dead, then I wanted to see my parents.

So I got up and walked over to the man and spat at his feet. I didn't know who he was, but I knew he was corrupt.

"Have a nice life," I said with insincere sweetness.

But before I could storm out of the room, there was a blinding flash on the front of me. The light only lasted for a millisecond, but it still burned through my eyelids and hands as if they were made of glass.

When I opened my eyes once more, I saw not the strange, creepy man whom I hated but my beautiful, kind mother standing before me. I basked in her healthy, kindly glow for a few seconds before the truth eclipsed my dream. My mother was dead, murdered in her own bed alongside my father. For an instant, I could smell their blood again, feel it brush my skin when I woke. I could once again see the gashes across their necks, their blood glinting on the morning sun.

But I was snapped back to reality by a gentle hand stroke my cheek.

"Darling," purred my mother, "time to go home. Would you like to go home?"

This lady was my mother, but not my mother. My mother's voice was a soft hum, like a melody caught in a soft breeze. This ladies voice was like a cat's; cruel and calculating and ready to pounce at a moments notice. My mother had warm eyes and a soft smile that could melt your heart. But inside this woman's eyes raged a storm, so real you could see the rain splattering against her pupil.

This wasn't my mother, the one with a kind heart and mending hands.

This lady was merely an imitation of that wonderful woman I love, a poorly made on at that.

"You," I said, glaring into her stormy eyes, "are not my mother. That much, I know."

Again, another flash flitted before my eyes, and when my eyes opened for the second time, I saw Bryson standing in front of me.

"S-shape shifter?" I breathed.

Aunt Eleanor looked at me with sad eyes- the same look my father would give me when we ran out of ice cream.

"Shapeshifter I am," he sneered, "How did you not figure it out? I killed your parents...princess. And guess what, I was Aunt Eleanor too. So now that I have told you, you must die! Oh how nice, no more Garcias to annoy me anymore," he mused.

"Leave her alone!"

I turned and looked at my brave Aunt who had spoken for me. I saw her in a new light now that I knew the truth. I saw my mother, not her murderer. Then she nodded, and I knew what we were going to do, take this man down.

I lunged at his throat, but he was too fast. He knocked me off my feet and threw me across the room. I crashed into the back wall, and I heard a sickening snap.

Little black dots danced in my eyes, threating to drown me in darkness if I didn't hold on tight. I could feel the warm stream of blood oozing down my face, catching on my bottom lip so I could taste it. Yum, I thougth sarcastically.

Just when the black specks started to expand, I heard a male grunt of pain that chased away the unconsciousness.

"Get off me you crazy old lady," said a voice, though I wasn't sure who.

My brain felt like mud and trying to wade through my though resulted in me being stuck. I couldn't remember my family, my name, or what I was doing here. I wanted so badly to sink into the darkness, lay back into a long, deep sleep. But a voice told me to stay. Watch, child. You will see. So I listened to the sound and pried my eyes open just in time to a man take his final breath.

"Ple-," but the voice was cut off by a gasp. The life was sucked out of the man. But the woman with her hands wrapped around his throat stayed with him until his blood turned cold. Finally, I let the blackness take over.

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