I still think I can hear my horses' protesting neighs when I fell asleep that night. My dreams were filled with desperate screams of horses and the plees from my parents I hadn't heard. To be honest, I'm pretty sure that whoever the killer was, hadn't counted on anyone witnessing anything. Though I hadn't I swear I heard something that could point to the answers. I opened my eyes and sat up in my bed. The moonlight that splashed through my curtains, lit my face and the room. I wracked my brain as I thought about the night of the murder. I had been in my bedroom, studying. I had my head phones on and the light dimmed. The weird thing is, my room is directly across from my parent's room. Maybe the fact my door was shut had something to do with it? I didn't know.
I ran my hand though my hair. I just HAD to figure out the reason why my parents were killed and why I was still here. Then, something hit me. Frowning, I pulled the covers off my bed and gingerly placed my feet on the hardwood floor. Standing, I walked around my bed and to the door. I turned the knob and walked onto the carpet and into my parent's room. Where my parent's bodies had laid, everything had been cleared and clean. I decided to lay where my father had laid. Carefully, in my head, I ran through the things my father would have done that night and what would have led him to end up on the floor. I pictured my father, a large, muscular man of about six feet walking from the bathroom to the bed. I could clearly picture my mother still in the bathroom, brushing her teeth.
I stood and turned towards the door, picturing the killer, probably in a dark hood, walking in. He confronted my father about something. They began to argue. My mother finished brushing and walked out of the bathroom, hearing the commotion. She came to stand by my father, just as the killer pulled out a silver hand gun, like the one I thought I'd seen. I stood back from the bed, watching the scene I thought happened, go on. The killer pointed the gun at my father, who put is hands up in defence. My mother's eyes widened in fear and quickly came and stood between them. The killer grabbed my mother and put his arm around her neck. She tried to fight him, but he was stronger and was over-powering her. He continued to point the gun at my father til my mother had interveined. He then pointed it at my mother's head. My father got scared and dove for her. The killer turned the gun on my father, shooting at my father's skull.
As my father fell to the ground, dead, my mother looked up at the killer and though her useless words were muffled, I could hear what she'd said loud and clear.
"Jeffery, please."
The killer looked down at her. The overhead light made his face glow and I could see is face as well as fear and pain in his eyes. In a flash, the fear was replaced with fury and he wrapped his arm around my mother's throat tighter. I watched as my mother slowly began to fade. The light in her eyes dimmed. And she slowly fell from the killer's grasp. I blinked and watched the killer turn and I could see him thinking about entering my room. Clearly, he'd thought otherwise and raced from the room.
I took a deep breath and stared down at the empty carpet. Maybe this was just meant for dad. I thought. But what had he'd done to deserve this?
All I hoped was that in time, I'd find out what.