He had felt it. The overwhelming sense of danger, the premonition of death. His lungs refused to work as he remembered suddenly gasping for breath. He's ran from the classroom, his books and papers flying from his desk.
'No! Fate can't beat me! Please don't let me be too late big brother!'
Notes on spell and trap cards laid scattered as his teacher had called after him but he hadn't listen. Rushing down the streets the wind seemed to push against him, as if trying to block his path. He took every shortcut he knew but slowed as he approached the house.
The front door was wide open, an invitation to the darkness he felt radiating from inside. Anticipation so strong it held him frozen for a moment. His mouth went dry, the taste of fear stale and sharp. So strong it made his stomach churn as he rushed up the steps through the open door.
'Please...'
A pounding began in his head, eyes searching frantically. The little one, his youngest brother had been home sick with his stepfather, a man of little sanity though he hid it well.
He forced himself to move forward, each step painful, his instincts telling him to run, but he'd fought it with an unrelenting determination. His eyes swept over the living room, everything the same as when he'd left that morning. Familiar, warm…but it didn't stop the fear. He moved slowly into the hallway.
A bright smear of blood painted the wall near his brother's doorway. His heart sped up, pounding so harshly he'd feared it would jump out of his chest, adding another splash of red to the macabre scene. He'd let out a silent prayer, damning fate and pushed open the bedroom door. A scream jumped into his throat and froze as his eyes drank in the side.
The walls were sprayed with red blood, the bed covers soaked in it. His young brother lay oddly on the bed, his neck turned at an impossible angle. His eye sockets were empty, his once laughing eyes gone forever. There was no way to count the number of stab wounds on the young boys body.
'NO!'
He didn't go into the room, he couldn't. Grief racked his body and mind. He hadn't been there to protect him. To save him as he'd swore he would, as fate dictated he would not. He stared down the hall with wide eyes. He already knew what he'd been destined to find. The door was already wide open. He forced himself to look in.
His mother lay in a crumpled heap on the floor, her golden brown hair a halo spread out around her crushed head. The rest was too far-gone, too mangle for recognition.
He swallowed heavily, his body sinking to the floor. His family was gone, and he knew exactly who to blame. He could hear him now. Coming up from the basement, his footsteps loud in his ears.
Silently, he'd pulled himself up, his face a peaceful blank mask, no emotions to keep him from doing what he'd known he must. From doing what must be done to survive. he could hear his elder brothers voice in his head even now.
'I must fight it...i must destroy it...fight my fate.'
His mouth even curved into a small smile as he curled his hand around the metal baseball bat lying at the doors entrance, still slick with his mother's blood. He stared at it for a moment before turning back down the hallway.
What happened in moments seemed like hours to him. As he'd exited the hallway his stepfather turned to face her, his white suit soaked with blood from both his brother and his mother. He's barely had time to say a word before he's swung the bat. It's made a sickening crack as it hit the side of his head.
He'd fell with a thick thud, but it still wasn't done. The bat kept coming, down again and again. Down over and over until the skull was crushed flash. The smell of blood was metallic in the air, the smell of blood and meat.
'I won't die...i won't be a puppet to fate!'
His chest heaved heavily, eyes wide with a mixture of confusion and excitement. He'd dropped the bat, which clanged loudly on the linoleum floor. A red stain slowly spread out from his stepfather's crushed body. Small stains had littered his clothes and skin.
He'd turned, a blank look on his face as he'd headed up the staircase to the bathroom.
He'd dropped his bag, clothes quickly following as he'd begun to draw a bath. He'd stepped into the warm water letting it envelope him in its embrace.
At the base of the porcelain tub a single card and a neatly written note slipped from his bag. The card seemed to glimmer happily, while the words written on the note seemed to darken as the bath water began to turn a dark ugly red, a smile curling his lips as he'd sank beneath its surface.
The water had splashed on the white note slightly staining it a pale red, the words 'fight fate and come to me soon' becoming illegible.
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oh yeah lol sick and twisted...