As the boy sat onto the wooden, old piano stool, his pale fingers shakily tracing over the midnight and black keys of that Grand Piano. He moved his glasses so that he could focus on the notes that he was about to play, it all began with a single, high black note key which he pressed so gently. With a slight tone to it, the piano made a sound, though it was rather hard to hear. As the boy then went to press middle C, he noticed a dark, almost crimson in colour blob on the key; he tried to wipe it away but then more began to appear.
“H-Huh? W-What-“ Before the boy could finish that sentence, more and more red blobs began to appear all at once, with that the boy went to stand up but felt a sudden rush of pain that bolted through his stomach and all the way up his little spine. Horrified the boys eyes filled with water which then spilled down his cheeks.
“H-Help me…” Whispered the horrified and frightened boy, trying to turn around to see how this had happened, but to his dismay his ‘attacker’ was his own father. The boy let out a saddened scream of horror at the fact his parent had done that. The boy looked down to see a 12 inch blade poking through his soft, pale flesh and dark crimson blood falling from the wound and onto the piano keys still.
“Papa..W-Why?” Questioned the sobbing, hurting child to his crazed father. The male just glared at the boy, a murderous glare in his eyes.
“You’ve been a very bad boy, haven’t you? You’re the reason that mummy died aren’t you?” Replied the male, pushing onto the blade more to cause the child to scream and cry out in pain. The male didn’t care much for the boy’s life as he solely believed that he had killed his wife and so should die for this action and this only.
“Papa! S-Stop! It hurts so much!” The boy looked at his father, his face red, hands blood soaked. He was so very pale now, he felt so pain but refused to give up, he wanted to be stronger but his little body was giving up and shutting down.
“You don’t deserve to live you should die for what you did…” Replied a grieving man, as he shoved the 12 inch blade fully into the little boy. With that the boy’s body shut down and his life was over. The father stood back, almost admiring his work a moment before a worried look became him. “Where could I hide the body? How can I not be caught?” He thought to himself as he desperately looked around the living room for a place to hide, the boy he once called son. Seeing the old chest that his wife had kept the Christmas decorations in, the male stuffed the lifeless body into it, locking it up and making sure that no-one would ever look inside it. “I did it. I killed him!” The father began to laugh, happy with himself for murdering who he thought was his wife’s killer, nothing nor no-one would or could ever change his mind about that decision.
