*Bang* *Crash* I jolt awake as something metal hits the cement.The walls of my bedroom, still shrouded in darkness. Groggily I sit up in bed, looking at my beat-up alarm clock. 3:41 am
Confused as to what caused the commotion, I throw on a sweatshirt so I'm decently covered. Heading down the wooden rickety staircase, I fumble to find the handle of the back door. Finally grabbing hold of what I'm sure is the handle,I pull, and the door slides open in protest. Stupid summer heat.
Gingerly stepping outside on the warm patio, I shut the door as quiet as possible this time. Don't want to wake mom and dad. Flipping the on switch to the flashlight I grabbed off of the counter, I shine it in the direction of the tool shed. Sure enough, the door is open and the tools are spilled all over the place.
Picking my way around the patio chairs and through the dry grass, I notice muddy footprints on the ground. How is there mud, it hasn't rained in months?! I think to myself. I bend down to take a closer look, when the sharp and metallic smell of blood fills my nose.
Recoiling abruptly, my vision goes kind of blurry. "Where did this blood come from?!" I whisper yell. My curiosity gets the best of me, like always, so I head on towards the shed. Wielding my flashlight as a weapon, I try to quiet my footsteps. But, with the brittle yellow grass, it's quite impossible.
A minute later, I reach out a hand to steady myself on the corner of the shed. The darkness is thick, almost unnaturally so. Even the beam of my powerful flashlight seems to disappear after a few paces. Stepping over the spill of tools, I just barely keep my balance while stepping up and inside.
Swinging the flashlight beam in front of me, I let out a blood- curdling scream. Goosebumps rise all along my body, and my knees start shaking. My once smooth bare feet, all covered with stick, half dried blood. The tools were knocked askew everywhere, and the walls splatter painted crimson. I couldn't pull my eyes away from the source of the "paint-job".
My dad lay on the ground, blood spilling from a gaping wound in his head and leg. His hand was stretched out as far as it could reach, towards a nearby rake. His fingernails, now torn to shreds, are filled with wooden splinters. My breathing became heavy, and the air was to thick and humid to breathe. I can't breathe!
I try and run away from this...... .....this nightmare, but I slip in my own fathers blood. Falling face first on the now scarlet wooden floor, I gasp. My cheekbone splits on impact, and my temples explode in a sharp stabbing pain. I have neither the energy to move myself, nor the will at this point.
So, as I lay there, almost as motionless as my dead father, I begin to think. I could end it right now, and die alongside my dad. What's the point in living with this pain anyways? So, in vain, I slowly turn my head to the right, searching for a suitable tool. And bingo.
I spot a pair of hedge cutters, just within arms length. So, just like my dad, I reach out as far as I can. Suddenly, a large and thick shadow looms over me, and my stomach sinks. How did I not think that the killer was still around?! I yell at myself mentally.
He has the stocky and wide build of a male, but he's wearing a pig mask, so I can't get a good look at him. *Wham* I scream in pain as a heavy object strikes the back of my head. Once I regain my vision and the ability to think, the pig-killer drops a bloody spade from his hand.
And in a split second, I realize the wounds on my father were the same shape as that spade. What better way to go out than being killed by the same weapon as my own dad? I think, chuckling under my breath. The pig-killer tsk's at me, and full out lunges at me this time.
I don't put up a fight, so he easily pins me down. I breath a sigh of relief, when I realize he's going to end my life for me. I'm sorry mother..... was my last thought, as the pig-killer stabs me repeatedly in the chest. I can't help the screams of pain as my skin is shredded, and my own lungs fill with blood.
Then it all goes silent.....