Footsteps echoed down the hall, insane laughter attached to the figure that made the sound of running. The rest of the house was silent, all other family members sleeping. Perfect, that was perfect for what the youngest son, Alfred, was about to do. In one hand he scraped his nails down the wall, making carvings as he ran down the hall and in his other hand, a butcher knife. His glasses where already cracked from an earlier incident….the moment he had snapped. All those insults…..
Fat.
Uncaring.
Hyperactive.
They hurt a lot more then he let on…..
Back to the task at hand, he reached a room, slender fingers wrapping around the handle. Piercing blue eyes looked up at the nameplate over the door, seeing the name "Matthew" engraved onto it. His older twin brother was sleeping on the other side most likely, moonlight filtering over the white and red carpet the covered the floor and cascading down the red and white walls. Well, the appearance of the room didn't matter at the moment, and if he was successful, the whole room would be red, purposefully splattered across the room.
This night he was planning to kill his family.
The "dad", Francis.
The "mom", Arthur.
And his twin, Matthew.
He quietly twisted the doorknob, pushing open the door and peeking inside, light reflecting off his cracked glasses and the knife in his hand. His brother's curl stuck up from under the sheets, bouncing lightly as he breathed lightly. The American snuck inside, making sure not to step on the creaky floorboards in the room. He had memorized them the day before. Creeping over to his bed, the blonde raised the knife, preparing to strike.
A/N: Please review if I should continue...
~Trio