The Sins of Our Fathers

IV False Security

Upon stepping out of the shower I found a set of heavy black winter clothes laid out on the vanity counter. My old rags were gone, incinerated I presumed judging by the smell of burning cotton that floated up from downstairs.

Despite the invasion of privacy I didn't mind a bit, good riddance. All those clothes did was remind me of the man that had given them to me, who currently hated me more than any demon who'd ever roamed the earth; the scar across my cheek proved that.

Quickly I dried off watching my hair wind itself back into the messy tight waves that I hadn't seen in years as it dried. The clothes fit me snugly, wrapping around my body like plastic wrap. A heavy black coat covered the long white fleece long sleeve ensuring that I would survive the weather outside, maybe even be comfortable in it. Thick black leggings blended into combat boots that told of long hours trudging through the snow covered my lower half.

Whoever these people were they wanted me to be warm and fashionably dressed when they killed me. But then I had no intention of being killed. A large window was unbarred and inviting begging me to use it. My lips tilted up slightly in a devious smile as I walked over to the ledge. The bathroom was on the second story with a large bank of snow right beneath the window, that if I fell into just right I wouldn't break any bones.

Hesitantly I began to jimmy the latch working the rusted old pin out. It was a little over half way when footsteps pounded on the stairs.

"Shit." I cursed under my breath.

"Yes Mama I'll tell her that dinner is ready." Zachariah yelled from the top of the stairs. My fingers moved faster fighting to get the pin free. Finally it dropped to the floor and I climbed out onto the ledge.

A gust of wind slammed into me threatening to tear me from the ledge. Bringing back the memory of another ledge on another mansion, still running from the same man. Blood had stained my hands, as well as the rest of me while I'd stood fearfully on the edge looking down at the snowed blanketed bushes below. Zachariah had been behind me then too.

Earlier I had heard my father scream as a knife was plunged into his side over and over again until I watched the light faded from his eyes like it had faded from so many others who had died at my fathers hands. Zachariah hadn't stopped then he just kept slicing at his skin until he was disfigured beyond any recognition. I had watched it all from under the footstool of my fathers favorite arm chair, hidden by the thick green skirt that encircled it.

Eventually Zachariah had left to go hunt me, leaving me alone with the body of the only family member I'd had left. I laid his head in my lap cradling it there as I sobbed. Blood seeped into my clothes soaking every fiber, but I didn't care, maybe I would remember him longer that way. I cried until there were not tears left to give so then I walked to the balcony and jumped, running as far from that house as my feet could possibly carry me.

That was the night that I learned that security is an illusion we hold in our minds. There is one place or person that makes is feel safe, but even then we're not. No matter if we're locked behind six solid feet of concrete with an armed KGB team guarding us tragedy can still sneak up on us anytime anywhere.

Everyone says "Oh not it won't happen to me." The truth is we could drop dead at moment, but we tell ourselves that we won't- that we can't because we're "safe". My father thought he was safe, fear was his weapon and he wielded it well, but in the end it couldn't save him.

I still had the chance to save myself, taking one last glance around at the world I had lost I took a breath and gathered my courage then jumped into the wind tuning out the enraged shouts of Zacariah behind me.

(Hello! Sorry this update is so short! I promise I'm trying to do longer ones, but I haven't updated in forever and I really wanted to know that I'm inspired again so I hope you all enjoy! Promise next one will be longer!)