"I love you, Dad."
I fired the gun.
I slumped to the floor, not caring about the blood that was seeping into my jeans. All those movies - I always wished I could be one of the characters, having a thrilling dangerous adventure. Dad used to sneak me into them at the movie theater. I'd hide under his coat so that the guy at the door wouldn't notice the rouge twelve year old. Mom went ballistic when she found out. Mom went mad about a lot of things Dad did.
I gazed at the pools of blood spreading from under the three corpses in the room, but tried to avoid look at the faces. It had all been so sudden, so quick. We had been having dinner. Mom and Dad arguing - about me. I wish they hadn't split up. That's what every child of separated parents thinks. The divorce had probably been for the best. They couldn't be in each other's company without practically murdering each other, over every tiny detail. Even so. It would have been nice to grow up in a happy family. My eyes found Dad's face. He looked peaceful. I looked away, fighting back tears. I don't know why. There was no one there to see.
What do you do when you've shot your own Dad? What do you do when you've got three dead bodies in your kitchen? What do you do?
The reality of these thoughts crashed over me, and for a while, I felt dizzy. I had to get out. I had to leave. Rising from the floor, I headed for the door, picking up the pistol on the way. Just before I put my hand on the doorknob, I remembered something. Turning to the coat rack to the right of the door, I grabbed my red jacket. I wore it all the time, and I had the feeling that I wouldn't be going back to the apartment.
Slipping the jacket on, I opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. The flat was only on the second floor so I opted to use the stairs instead of the lift to get to the lobby. Strangely, there was no one there. I gripped the pistol tight in my hand and headed for the main glass doors They slide open and the fresh air hit me.
There was a slight breeze that day. I stood outside on the pavement as the wind whipped strands of my hair around. The situation was clear. The street was empty except for a man across the road, stumbling aimlessly. I knew what he was. I know what Mom became before she died. I realized that I was never going to need all the exams and tests I had taken. I was never going to need a shred of knowledge about film making. It turns out that all those late night horror movies was all the research I was ever going to need.
Wow, my first fic in forever. It's not much but I hope you liked it~