Starting What Should Have Been Ended
More memories.
We walked for ages it seemed. Until we saw the outskirts of Flagstaff. My feet were aching and my stomach rumbling. Why didn’t we have breakfast before we left? I’m sure everyone was feeling the same. I feel faint though, really faint and tired. Maybe I should just have a little nap. No, Lily! Keep walking. You can’t stop. I lost it, I fell backwards. I don’t remember anything after that. But I fell into my own dreams of remembrance.
“Lily, dear, come here a moment.” Said mum, warmly.
“Yes mum, what it is?” I asked walking into the kitchen. I saw a knife in her hands. It was too late for me to run. She lurched out and slashed at my arm with the end of the knife. Then stopped and held up my report. “Why is there a B on here? Everything is A+ except for Drama. Which is a B?! You call yourself my daughter. I must punish you, for you did wrong Lily. You don’t belong in this household!”
I remembered the abuse. I remember the cuts. I remembered the injuries. I remembered mum telling dad to hurt Andrew. I remembered dad being so into smoking pot that he passed out. I remembered mum trying to kill him. I remember slapping her then running. I remembered sleeping outside for days and days alone.
But I remembered the day of rituals the most.
That day March 1st I found out that mum was part of a secret group of Satanic worshippers. Today was the day of rituals. They sat in a room together cursing and speaking in Latin, “Excita mortuos vitam amittit.” To this day, I still don’t know what it means. But the dead were raised. They practised strange rituals. How do I remember this? I followed her. I found out that March the first is the day of Blood Rituals. I saw them take a new born child, one of their own I assume. Who was to be taken into the worshipping of Satan. They slit the child’s neck and placed him into a large bowl in the middle of their circle. They all took their wine glasses and reached into the bowl. Then in unison they spoke again saying “excita mortuos vitam amittit” before drinking the blood of the child. Most horrific thing I’d ever witnessed.
She came home a short time later, but I had reached home before her I knew she’d be home soon, so I put a pistol in my pocket from dad’s gun cabinet. As soon as she entered the door. She pulled our family outside. To where the other members of her cult were, with their families. Why did I get the feeling then, that someone was going to be sacrificed. Dad had a baseball bat in hand. Andrew had no weapons and mum had her cult. I was really the only one who could kill instantly. The adults in the cult forced us into a group. I cuddled next to Andrew, we were both worried. Dad was forced to stay with us. He was high as usual. The adults went up to our roof, where they continued to say “excita mortuos vitam amittit” over and over again. I handed the pistol to Andrew and said, “Aim for mums head.” He did, but he missed. Dad saw him do it and swung the bat at his face. Again and again.
“Dad! Stop!” I screamed. With the gun pointed to his face.
I shot my father, in the chest. He collapsed to the ground, dropping the bat. I sat down next to Andrew and cuddled him and whispered “I love you Andrew, you were never worthless.” Over and over again. Until I felt his heart stop beating and his eyes lose their colour. I stood up, pistol in my hand and aimed for mum’s head. Boom headshot! She collapsed and fell off the roof. The rest of the people in the cult turned to me. They climbed down off the roof and looked at my lifeless brother, before taking away their children. One turned back. “You may have killed our leader. But wait till she returns. She will destroy you. Good luck. You’ll need it.” The cult burned and killed people in our town for the rest of that day. Which is why I got out, with my friends.
“Lily, dear, come here a moment.” Said mum, warmly.
“Yes mum, what it is?” I asked walking into the kitchen. I saw a knife in her hands. It was too late for me to run. She lurched out and slashed at my arm with the end of the knife. Then stopped and held up my report. “Why is there a B on here? Everything is A+ except for Drama. Which is a B?! You call yourself my daughter. I must punish you, for you did wrong Lily. You don’t belong in this household!”
I remembered the abuse. I remember the cuts. I remembered the injuries. I remembered mum telling dad to hurt Andrew. I remembered dad being so into smoking pot that he passed out. I remembered mum trying to kill him. I remember slapping her then running. I remembered sleeping outside for days and days alone.
But I remembered the day of rituals the most.
That day March 1st I found out that mum was part of a secret group of Satanic worshippers. Today was the day of rituals. They sat in a room together cursing and speaking in Latin, “Excita mortuos vitam amittit.” To this day, I still don’t know what it means. But the dead were raised. They practised strange rituals. How do I remember this? I followed her. I found out that March the first is the day of Blood Rituals. I saw them take a new born child, one of their own I assume. Who was to be taken into the worshipping of Satan. They slit the child’s neck and placed him into a large bowl in the middle of their circle. They all took their wine glasses and reached into the bowl. Then in unison they spoke again saying “excita mortuos vitam amittit” before drinking the blood of the child. Most horrific thing I’d ever witnessed.
She came home a short time later, but I had reached home before her I knew she’d be home soon, so I put a pistol in my pocket from dad’s gun cabinet. As soon as she entered the door. She pulled our family outside. To where the other members of her cult were, with their families. Why did I get the feeling then, that someone was going to be sacrificed. Dad had a baseball bat in hand. Andrew had no weapons and mum had her cult. I was really the only one who could kill instantly. The adults in the cult forced us into a group. I cuddled next to Andrew, we were both worried. Dad was forced to stay with us. He was high as usual. The adults went up to our roof, where they continued to say “excita mortuos vitam amittit” over and over again. I handed the pistol to Andrew and said, “Aim for mums head.” He did, but he missed. Dad saw him do it and swung the bat at his face. Again and again.
“Dad! Stop!” I screamed. With the gun pointed to his face.
I shot my father, in the chest. He collapsed to the ground, dropping the bat. I sat down next to Andrew and cuddled him and whispered “I love you Andrew, you were never worthless.” Over and over again. Until I felt his heart stop beating and his eyes lose their colour. I stood up, pistol in my hand and aimed for mum’s head. Boom headshot! She collapsed and fell off the roof. The rest of the people in the cult turned to me. They climbed down off the roof and looked at my lifeless brother, before taking away their children. One turned back. “You may have killed our leader. But wait till she returns. She will destroy you. Good luck. You’ll need it.” The cult burned and killed people in our town for the rest of that day. Which is why I got out, with my friends.