Short Stories

Control

I held the gun to their face. "Choose your last words wisely." I sneered, my voice jerking in my throat. Slowly, as if it took all of their energy to painfully open their ember pools, brought their eyes to mine, trembling. 

"I love you." 

I scoffed and shook my head, a single tear rolling down my eye. "no..." I tightened my grip on the guns handle, feeling my sweat trickle beneath its metal. "You loved only what you thought you could control." I pressed the cool barrel hard against their forehead. A terrified gasp escaped their lips and their whole body trembled violently as I leaned in to place my lips by their ear. "And I pity you for it..." I breathed the words into their ear.

And pulled the trigger.

Neale was the hero of the family. I, Elias, was the villain.

The dull throbbing of my head awoke me from my dream. the dream now formulating itself as a plan. 

My lips cracked into a thin smile. 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Neale was the hero of the family. I, Elias, was the villain. That was always our story and I was sick of it. I was done with being the shadow hidden in the back of the room, far away in the corner where no one would look to. I was done being the only one who cared. I was done. 

Neale was the champion of the family. I, Elias, was the loser. Their room was littered with trophies of silver and gold, jeering at me with their achievements, guffawing at me every time I failed. The twisting, sinking feeling in my stomach would swallow me whole when I looked at them. 

Neale was the popular one in the family. I, Elias, was a nobody. They were always invited to the parties, to peoples houses, asked out on dates. I was the one shoved into the lockers, the one who was tripped up in the hallways, the one at which slurs were directed, the scapegoat for every negative feeling they felt, I would take the fall and Neale would laugh with them, Neale would insult me with them, Neale would hit me with them. I hated them. When I would talk to them about it and how I hated it, they would say I deserved it, that it was my fault, that they wished I was dead because they were embarrassed to be related to me. They admitted to telling everyone not to talk to me unless it was an insult. They controlled me.

Father and Mother would wait on Neale's every need, forgetting they had two children. I came downstairs one evening to find the three of them eating dinner around the table. the table set for three, the dinner cooked for three, the conversation directed for three, the love directed for three. I didn't eat that night. They controlled what happened to me. I was done. My patience had reached its breaking point and it snapped under the pressure.

Father kept his gun under the bathroom sink. The three of them were sat around the TV, playing the illusion of happy families, the three of them, without me. I took the heavy weapon from its hiding place. My vision clogged by tears I refused to shed. My mind fogged with visions of being free. My body numb to the consequences. 

Each step got heavier as I descended the stairs. the noise of the TV became deafening, my blood swirled through my ears, my stomach coiled and spat acid to my throat like a snake releasing its venom. My skin became sticky with hot sweat, becoming cold as it trickled down my back. 

I went to the kitchen first. Locking the door by the bolt, leaving it impossible to open. I turned to face them. Anger flooded my veins and the unquenchable desire I had buried deep inside me clouded my eyes. My gaze drifted to the light above them. If I was going to go through with this to the end, might as well have some fun.

I clicked off the safety.

my feet rooted themselves to the floor behind my family, no escaping my decision now. Their faces focused on the screen, now flickering like static in my eyes, my brain hardly comprehending the noise of the voices that echoed and cracked from the speaker. I raised the gun above my head, the weight of it suddenly dispersing as my decision finally solidified itself. It rose up towards the light that hung just above their heads. I pulled the trigger.

Glass exploded.

The screaming followed.

They darted from the sofa; I was waiting for them by the doorway, the knowledge of the layout of the house played to my advantage.

My father reached me first. I held the gun steady in my hand, pulling the trigger with conviction as I aimed it at the shadow figure that was his head.

Blood was everywhere. 

The hot, lumy gloop spat all over me. The heavy thud of his body landing on the floor sent my brother and mother into a freezing, trying to desperately grasp at each other and push past me. My foot stuck out under my mother's as she scrambled past. she fell hard. I could hear her nose crack as her face collided with the slick wooden floors, she groaned in anguish as the blood gushed from her nose and split lip. The lights from the kitchen trickled into the hallway we were now stood. I coked the gun and sent a bullet through the back of her blonde head without a second thought. Black, hot gloop cascaded across the floor. my feet seemingly independent in thought waltzed their way through the mess, soaking my toes in the liquid, leaving the incriminating footprint behind my movements.

During this Neale snuck their way to the kitchen, desperately trying to call out for help. tugging at the door. I wrapped my hand around their big mouth and pulled them away from the impenetrable exit. they became unbalanced and I threw them against the cabinets.  they slid to the floor in tears and begged me over and over again. "Please, stop, I won't tell anyone please, don't kill me!"  I squatted down to meet their tear stricken, fear-filled eyes. Letting my own grow cold and devoid of any emotion. I had gone too far to back down now. 

Neale was beautiful. there was no denying that. Their dripping ember eyes surrounded by thin red veins sent chills flowing down my spine. How, even in the utmost terror, their deep gold-coloured hair still sat perfectly above their shoulders. I felt a clump of vomit sneak its way up my throat. I swallowed down the burning heap. I wondered how I looked with my father's blood now drying on my face. I shushed them. Placing my blood dipped finger on their lips. Neale flinched, sharply intaking air, silencing their cries to nothing more than ugly sounding whimpering. I grinned wide, showing every tooth I possibly could. I was going to kill them. 

Slowly, I brought the gun up to rest on their temple. Neale squeezed their eyes tight. "choose your last words carefully."  I sneered my voice jerking in my throat. Slowly, as if it took all of their energy to painfully open their ember pools, brought their eyes to mine, trembling.

"I love you."

I scoffed and shook my head. "no..." I tightened my grip on the guns handle, feeling my sweat trickle beneath its metal. "You loved only what you thought you could control." I pressed the cool barrel hard against their forehead. A terrified gasp escaped their lips and their whole body trembled violently as I leaned in to place my lips by their ear. "And I pity you for it..." I breathed the words into their ear.

And pulled the trigger.

The sound of screeching sirens vast approaching my street brought me out of the trance. Re-living the moment I sent my siblings once praised and admired brains across the white kitchen cabinet like a Claude Monet painting. I unlocked the door. And sat at the entrance to the darkened world around. the freezing wind and gentle rainfall of the October weather comforting to me. 

The gun in my hand suddenly felt heavier than before. I watched the blood of my father, mother and sibling fall in droplets onto my skin and the steps below me. Soon after, my own tears followed. I had fallen victim to the desires of my mind. But, I wasn't sorry.  I brought the gun up to sit on the inside of my mouth; my hands suddenly shaking. 

My face was illuminated by the flashing blue lights. My slender fingers coiled around the trigger. "How far do I go?" I thought to myself.

Neale was the hero of the family. I, Elias, was the villain.