~an~
- another random one shot about blood and horror... isnt my childhood great?-
Sandra Adams stood next to her dead brother, hoping this was all just a bad dream. The blood and hopeless dreams faded into nothing, as if she didn't exist. Her life was meaningless now, without her brother, she was lost in her own little world, searching, always searching, to never find any answers.
She got up from the morgue office, where she was interrogated for murder of her 17 year old brother, Allen Adams. He had been shot, gutted, and slashed in the neck by a bloody butcher knife. He hadn't even started his life when it ended before his sister's eyes. They had been walking home when a strange man walked out of the darkness, and brutally killed her brother.
The odd thing about this was he left Sandra alive. As far as anyone knew, he never left anyone alive who ever saw him. She had already been accused of murder to the first degree, interrogated, and yelled at for not knowing who Jack's face looked like.
She had to get out of there as soon as possible, before she broke down into little pieces. Her brother didn't deserve t die, not now. They were orphans, living together at Saint Josephs Orphanage in England. All she knew is that her brother was dead, she was alone, and a murderer was on the loose. She walked out into the cold night, still wondering if she was dreaming.
In her subconscious, she knew she wasn't dreaming. Dreams did cause pain, but not physically. Mentally: yes. Her head hurt from this closed her eyes, and wondered into the night...
~an~
-I still say i have such a 'wonderful childhood' thinking about murders and orphanages...-