Like Ghosts In The Snow

Hours. It has been hours since I’ve sat in this kitchen. Hours since I have found out of my fathers plan, my fathers demise. Hours since I have last seen Mikey. Hours since I have given up on any chance of life.

Frank Sir has been gone, somewhere off into the house. I haven’t heard anything since I had been tied up, since I was immobile. He had to be somewhere in this house, I was sure of it. And by this time my wrists were raw and bleeding from the little struggle I was putting up to get out of here. But my care for life at this point was long gone. I had stopped trying three hours ago. And now I was going crazy, putting hundreds of different scenarios in my head.

I continuously had been starring at the corpse in the other room as well, as flies began to accumulate around my father’s eyes and mouth, the smell of his freshly rotting flesh made its way to me. My nostrils burned with the smell of death. Though how horrid the site had been I couldn’t keep the smile off of my face as I looked at his cold dead body. I knew he was burning in hell at this point in time and I just couldn’t help but love that idea.

I heard the faint sound of footsteps behind me. Then I could smell it. I could smell just the faint scent of bleach in the air. That’s when Frank Sir had come into view. And just like I had anticipated, was carrying a large jug of bleach. I starred at it for a moment before his little snickers had caught my attention. He raised the jug to me, his smile seeping venom.

“Are you thirsty?”

I starred at the devil in front of me, terror now just seeping its way into every inch of my body. I began to struggle again, the ropes sliding against the still fresh cuts. It made me hiss in pain before I had to stop all together. There was no use of struggling anymore. I had no way out of this.

He walked the few steps closer to me with the bleach container before he took out a small pocketknife. I starred at the blade as it shined in the dimmed light. He raised it to me, threatening to puncture. I began to cry as I slowly opened my mouth, allowing the man access to pour down the chemicals that he wished.

He smiled the entire time that he poured the bleach down my throat, making me scream as it burned all the way down, leaving the burning in my mouth and throat as he was done. I screamed as I felt the chemicals burn at the delicate flesh of my insides. He went behind me as he poured the remainder of the bleach into my fresh cuts making me scream even louder. It was causing even more pain to my throat as my vocal cords struggled to move.

I felt my heart racing faster with every single act of torture that was done to me. I could feel the heart beat in every single inch of my body. And when he sewed my lips shut to keep the screams inside of me, I was beginning to feel the frail strings of life begin to snap away. My heart race began to lessen, the pain began to go numbing. I couldn’t move any more, couldn’t make a single sound. A slash to the throat was what had done it. My life flashed before my eyes, as cliché as it had sounded. But just that little flash of my past had made me happy again. I was finally out of my living hell. Its what I had always wanted. Peace.

The last thing that was heard was a shot to the head.

…

I awoke once again in a place of light. I had felt amazing. I felt at peace and I had felt happy.

I had never felt this close to anything I had in my entire time living. I knew I was no longer living. I felt it in my heart. I had felt no hate anymore. Instead of hatred and despise, I had felt like I was wanted. That I was truly loved by someone.

Suddenly, my fathers torutures all my life had not mattered to me anymore. I didn’t care that I was hated by most, or that the hatred was so strong that I had death wished upon me. I didn’t want to think of them anymore, the ones that caused me pain. I didn’t need to anymore. I was gone, I was free from torment.

And as I looked out into the horizon, I saw the one that had ever truly showed me love. It wasn’t Mikey, my Father or even my mother. It was that little dead boy; that trapped spirit that I had saved what felt like years ago.

He walked up to me with such elegance, such grace and with such over powering love. He held his hand out to me, and I took it. Happiness filling my every pore as our hands had intertwined together in an embrace of hope. And as we made our way towards the brightest star, it was then that I realized it.

I was never meant to be living on that earth. I was never meant to be alive, never to feel the sun on my skin or the wind breeze through my hair. I was always meant to be amongst the dead, in heaven with the boy that had saved me from myself. I realized then that I was never his savior, but he was meant to be mine. And with a final smile feathered on my lips, I knew that I was home.

My heaven all began in the house of hell.