It was early morning on a Tuesday in the middle of Winter when I decided things were not normal.
No. They certainly were not normal. What 'things' weren't normal, exactly? To be honest, at that moment as I stood on my cold hardwood floor in my pajamas, stretching, I could not tell what specifically was not normal at that time.
But it later came to me.
My morning routine was not different. Nothing was odd. Except for that feeling that there was something out of place.
I ate a normal breakfast at my normal spot at the family table. I live alone, though, but I always sit in the same spot. The rest of the seats are reserved for my family.
After that, I dressed. I did not need a uniform where I went to work. And so I dressed in my usual clothing items - a larger shirt, one that could fit even my father; a pair of capri pants, that I'm sure my sister had an identical pair years ago; and a pair of women's shoes, with a few stains on them of an unknown origin, that probably belonged to mother at one point. Nothing was out of the ordinary.
I decided to start working. I do not need a boss, I am my own boss from home. My job though will be kept private, I do not need unwanted people contacting me through it. I started working normally, but doing things quicker, rushed, even. I fidgeted, I was constantly shifting my weight as I sat on a chair, still working away.
I was getting nervous.
Anxious.
Worried.
I finished work, though it was all so sloppy today, it was done. I wanted to sleep, to allow the night to close over me and the day to come afterward.
But not yet, don't leave yet. I am not done my story.
I closed my workbook and cleaned my desk. It was time to prepare dinner. At this time of the day, the sky was stark black already, but it couldn't have been no later than three.
I ate dinner quickly. It was time.
I grabbed the object I had been working on earlier, and walked quickly to one of my spare bedrooms. I set the object on the floor. I fumbled with the lighter as I took it out of my back pocket, and struggled to light the object -- the candle -- in front of me.
I did not have much time.
In all the other spare bedrooms, I repeated this process, becoming quicker each time. In the last bedroom, at the end of the hall, I realized then I was not quick enough and that I was finally too late.
I knew what was not normal now.
He stood before me, as the light flickered away from the candle beside me. He was not angry at me. He was not sad. He was not how he should be at this point.
He spoke to me, in a mumble, I'm sure he asked what I was doing. I replied that I was doing my daily meditation -- and that it was rude of him to bother me.
He apologized. I did not forgive.
I stood, and I was much taller than him. I was a giant. He was only a mere child, of six years or so. But I did not think twice.
The lighter was not the only thing I had in my pocket. A swiss army knife, I had forgotten it was there from yesterday. I did not have any mercy.
It took my swift hand a mere minute to completely butcher the poor child
His body was not the body of my sweet and innocent younger brother anymore. But I did not care. I simply took the small, fitted baseball cap that was perched atop his little blonde head, and plopped it on my own.
There. My outfit was now complete. Everything is completely normal once more.
