Hello readers, sorry about the lack of material as of late. Writing hasn't been my main focus lately. However, I'd like to thank any readers for keeping up with my former stories and for hopefully deciding to keep up with this one. I can't promise any regularity in the publishing dates, however, I will work incredibly hard to make sure the material you receive is of the best quality I can produce. Anyways, all reviews are welcome and so are all readers. Enjoy this rewrite~
I sighed as soft couch foam pulled my body deep into its cushions. A colorful yarn blanket barely passed my toes, leaving my neck and face in the open. I relaxed as the warm breeze of summer attempted to slither into bed with me.
The TV was playing some old black and white show, volume forced to its lowest audible degree. It's light showered the pale decor of the room, cutting through the thick household air.
A door down on the opposite end of the house creaked, light footsteps padding their way to the kitchen behind me. It was mother, you could tell by the rhythm of her feet and the way she clacked her coffee pot against her mug.
I had to admit, her movements were a bit off today. She struggled to quietly stir the sugar and coffee together; letting it slip around the cup. Even washing the pot seemed to be too much work for her.
When the bedroom door opened again, I shivered. Mom took an intake of air, still as the heavy steps sounded down the hall. She growled as they stopped at the living room entrance.
"Good morning." he said, finding a chair by the TV to sit on.
I closed my eyes, feigning soft snores. The silence that followed prepared no one, not even mother.
"Have anything to say?" Mother asked, leaning over the counter with a creak.
"Don't start with that. Dad warned, readjusting his thin robe. I turned over so the back of the couch pressed against my nose.
"Don't you dare talk to me like that," Her voice rose. "Fucking disrespectful bastard!"
"Do we have to do this right now?" He huffed with sleepiness, pinching the bridge of his nose.
A mug hit the wall, shattering itself around the room. From the bits that landed on the couch, it was the green one with money signs.
"Really, Misoto," Dad grunted, forcing his body up. "That was one of my favorites and you know that!"
"You deserve it," She cried, stomping in front of what I presume was the TV. "After all, you broke me!"
I scoffed and rolled my eyes.
"And how the fuck did I do that?"
"When you called me god damn whore yesterday!" She persisted. "When you treat me like your fucking bitch all the time!"
"I never said that."
"Yes you did!" Her voice garbled out the words, screaming like some overgrown toddler. And as a toddler often does, she aimed her fist for his face.
It landed.
"Misaki!" Dad shouted, as he stumbled back. I heard the two struggle with each other, ending up in the kitchen.
"Go ahead, call out for your son you fucking pussy!" She screamed, a couple more flesh pounding sounds followed.
I sat up, staring at the two as he pinned her wrists to the counter.
"You've hurt me too, you know," He sobbed, breath shaking.
"And how the fuck did I do that?" She glared.
"By fucking that man in the walls!"
She sputtered, groaning with a roll of the eyes.
"Oh yeah, cause there's totally a man in the walls, right Tom?" She hissed, jutting her hips and hands in disbelief. "Even though you've had the police come here like, fifty times already to find him. But they're totally wrong, aren't they Tom?"
"I know what you fucking do."
"Let go of me you fucking bastard," She turned her gaze to me," Misaki, call the police, he's hurting me!"
"Leave Misaki out of this."
"You've already brought him into this, Tom!"
Without even realizing it, I was on my feet. I didn't move any further when she writhed out of his grasp, grabbing a ladel and bashing into his head.
"That's it, I'm calling the police." Tom marched away, toward the phone by the front door.
And with that, it was as if slow motion insued. The way her brown hair whisped behind her as she sped into the kitchen, the steady rise of the knife she took from the drawer. If not for the weapon in her hands, it would've seemed like a merry kid dashing towards some grand prize when she chased him.
The insane gleam in those green iris was what always got me. The way they both threatened with unpredictability yet followed the same actions every time.
"Toooommmm!" She screeched, letting the knife slide against the side of his thigh.
"Ahhhhhhghh!" Dad screamed, leaping closer to the phone. "What the fuck?!"
She steadied the thing between her two hands, shaking with determined will.
"Go ahead," She whispered. " Call the cops. I dare you."
Dad stood still for a moment, then let his hand fall on the phone. She jabbed at him again, with intent to miss.
"Mommy, stop!" I shook as she turn her gaze to me. The knife turned slightly and warmth spread to my knees.
Please don't turn it on me. Maybe I can still run, even if she is faster than me.
Dad took this as a chance and dashed around her and out the front door.
She stood by the door for a few minutes, letting the dagger fall to the ground.
I took her state of shock as an opportunity to slowly slide into the hall. My door was the second one on the right, I can make it.
And she turned from the door to me, tilting her head to the side. Some stupid expression must have been on my face because the scream she let out was spine tingling. She grabbed either side of her head and howled. So animalistic, lacking any human quality.
"Why didn't y-you h-h-help me?" She puffed, tears imploding from her tear ducts.
I turned and headed to my door, opening it and pausing to locate any sound of scuttling on her part. Nothing.
I walked inside, shut the door and locked it.
My knees gave out and sobs erupted from my lips.