Killing The Moon

Well this, like many other stories I've written, came to me in the form of a dream... And I know, it does not do well to dwell on dreams XD Oh yeah, so this is kind of PG 13 ish (sorry for typos, I don't have autocorrect here)

Chapter 1

Introduction

by: Kcool
It did not take me a long time to figure out everyone I stumbled upon was broken in some sort of way. It always stunned me how some were so great at hiding their personality flaws, but it was always those who let them show unabashedly that I admired the most. However, there was always on exception to my rule, and he happened to be my father.

While mother made my bed, he was leaving for work. Poor man, I thought, he has to work during the summer. But thank whatever it was that made him work during the summer... I would be six feet underground or sleeping with the fish if he did not. It had always been evident: my father had terrible self-control when he lost his temper. For his acts, he should have been imprisioned long before, but he was fortunate enough to have the perfect partner in crime: my mother.

It was not like she fully endorsed his behaviour, but when things got bad, she would always help him so he could escape with impunity. I often tried to convince her of doing the opposite, but she always panicked when I confronted her.

"Mother, have you though about telling father on the police?" I asked her. She turned her heads towards me, and gave me that particular look that said it all.

"You ungrateful hypocrite! Your father is a good man, why should I tell on him? Be grateful that you have a nice family." She screamed at me.

I knew she did it because she was broken as well.

"What about my sister?"

She sighed, and nodding, she came closer and whispered, "Lara, Lara, Lara. I don't want to hear her name or anything that has to do with her ever mentioned in this house again, do you understand? She got what she deserved, so don't you ever bring up that greedy slut. Don't ever mention that name again, do you hear me?" Ouch, there goes the first slap. "Seline, please finish making the beds, I have a headache."

I stood there, in the middle of the room, feeling beaten. Seline, our maid, came in from the other room, skipping. I felt bad for her, because she was already twenty and not yet aware of the dangers of the world. A feeling of guilt overtook me. I felt as if somehow, I was not doing my job as a semi-decent human being by warning her about my father's condition. I tried not to get too attached to her, seeing as she would suffer the same fate as the rest of our maids. I barely cared for them, considering most of them were old and bitter, but there was someting about Seline that drew me in, and I knew what it was exactly- her beauty.

"Wow, I was just in your parents' room and I saw the necklacle the boss got for your mother. She's so lucky to have such a caring man by her side, I wish I could be the same."

I could only smile at her. It would be best if she did not know.

Maybe the reason why I hated my father was because he was a two-sided man. The face he showed the world was the one of the prominent business man, the owner of the mansion in the corner. The one with the trophy wife and genius children. The man who could make the dead come back to life with his powerful voice and his hearthy laugh.

And then he had his true face, the one that was not obscured by a mask. He was a cruel, sadist man. Killing was not a business for him, it was more of a hobby. He throughly enjoyed waching the blood ooze out of his victims' bodies. Nobody was safe from his wrath, not even my own mother, who had survived nearly twenty years next to him. I knew that some day before I became an adult, I would wake up in a puddle of my own blood.

The thought of it scared me. I did not want to die. I was not looking forward to the nothingness and the rotting. I could never picture myself disappearing forever, along with the millions of people that die everyday and no one notices.

I ran down the stairs to grab a cup of coffee, which I often drank when I felt anxious. When I walked inside the kitchen, I saw my mother looking blue, watching her cup of wine intently. The scene was not too-unfamiliar for me.

"Go out. Now.", she told me, struggling to make her voice heard.

"But mother..."

"Out. I don't want to see your face for the rest of the day."

I realized there was no choice but to obey the queen of the house. She had the rule by day, while the psycho king did business with those poor, naive men that trusted him with their money. Once he came home, his order was dominant and she was silenced. It was their own, little unspoken agreement.

Once at the park, I felt my stomach grumble. I realized I had not eaten a thing, since my mother kicked me out of the house before I could have breakfast. I checked my pockets and I noticed I was out of money. It seemed that at that moment, my hunger grew. I regreted not grabbing a box of cereal or a pack of cookies before leaving my house.

I sat on a bench and watched the happy families walk by, wondering what could possibly trouble them once they were alone in the confines of their own homes. Not far from where I sat, I spotted the only other person who seemed to be near my age, reading a book. I waved at her, to which she responded by rolling her eyes.

Classic Mute.

One could say that I knew Mute, but at the same time, she was a stranger to me. To begin with, just as everyone else, I had never even bothered to ask her for her name and just called her Mute, because of her special condition. She was, at most, an insignificant teenage girl who dyed her hair bright colours and dressed solely in dark colours to attract the attention she would otherwise not receive.

I walked over to the spot where she sat, and greeted her. I remember making some snarky comment about her newest hair colour, turquoise, which she did not pay heed to. After that, I asked her about the book she was reading.

"Eleanor & Park", I read out loud, just as soon as she lifted the book up so I could see, "I did not take you for a teen-romance aficionado."

She ignored my remark and continued reading. I, being nearly as desperate as her for attention, sat next to her and proceeded to talk to her about random, trivial things for the sake of conversation. After a while, as always, I realized it was futile, given that she would never pay attention to what I had to say.

"Well, have a nice day"

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