From the start, I was adopted. I never knew my real parents, nor did I really care for them. I loved my adopted family though, they were so kind to me. I ate well, I lived in a warm and comfortable house, and I got to stay up pretty late. Let me tell you about my family real fast: First, there’s my mother. I never called her Mum; I just called her by her first name, Janice. She didn’t mind at all though. She was a very lovely woman, a bit ditsy, but overall, an extremely kind person Second, there’s Dad. His real name was Larry, but he never really liked me much so I began to refer to him as Dad. I think that no matter what I called him, he would never love me as much as his daughter, Makayla. Dad was a very stern man, He was not afraid to smack his children when they stepped out of line, and I found that out the hard way. Finally, There’s Makayla, my sister. Little Makayla was young when I was adopted, so we were about the same age. I liked to think of her as my little sister, though. We got along really well. We would always stay up late together and talk. Well, she did a lot of the talking. We were short on bedrooms, and because I didn’t want to sleep in the living room by myself, she helped me move the couch cushions next to her bed on the floor and I used this as a bed. This is where I have slept since. Not long after that, I heard a very loud crash on the other side of the house. I was awake in an instant. “THERE’S SOMEONE IN THE HOUSE!” I barked with extreme terror flowing through me. “Wake up!” I pleaded to Makayla. She did, and the instant she sat, up I ran to my parent’s room… Dad was dead. His neck was sliced open and gaping as blood spat out of hitting the wall, and dripping onto the floor. I looked to my left and saw that the master bathroom’s door was closed and just before it- on the outside- was a man. A man… I don’t feel comfortable calling it that. He was very large and rugged. He turned around and saw me and that’s when I saw him accurately for the first time. I wont forget it. His eyes were large and beady and trapped with lust. He was styling a beard that was badly unkempt with blood dripping off. His clothes were dirty and his face was cold. Just then I noticed the same horrid smell of sweat and blood from earlier, but this time it was overwhelming. He saw me. He saw me and grinned with crooked yellow teeth. I thought that I was going to die, but then he turned back to the bathroom door, un affected by my presence. I was terrified and clueless. I just yelled and cried. I watched as kicked down the door that was Janice’s only protection. I watched as he raised the bowie knife that he was carrying. I watched as he sliced her stomach open, all the while, laughing satanically. As he passed me I backed against the wall and whimpered with terror, “Why?” He didn’t respond except by putting his free hand on my head while Makayla screamed in the other and saying “Good boy.” He gave another crooked grin and a very cold, unnatural laugh. I followed him to the door where he dragged my helpless sister after him. He opened it, pulled her out, and slammed it shut behind him. I am now sitting in the house with my mutilated adopted parents, shivering and whimpering with dismay. He’s out there with her. Doing who-knows-what to her, and I can’t do anything. I would if I could, but I can’t. I would chase after them in a heartbeat, but I can’t. I sit here, looking at the front door. I look down at my paws. If only I could open doors… -Dovahkiin
Posted on: Fri, 30 Aug 2013 07:06:03 +0000