Hell Won't Have Me.

Everyone went about their day as usual while I just sat there on that same bench I had been sat on since 10AM.
It was close to 5PM by the time I finally stopped staring at the wall, on the other side of the road, that was covered in graffiti.
The only reason I stopped staring was because of movement within the paint.

I've lost the plot again.

Without a second thought, nor much of a first, I rose from the damp bench and walked across the street, not caring to look whether it was safe or not.
Luckily, it was.

I became face to face with the moving walk.
The snakes start to sing.
That was when I realised I was having a really bad experience with whatever drug it was that short guy dosed me up on.

***
"Hey, you!" A short guy with near to no hair nor teeth called as I walked past.

It was 3AM and my girlfriend had just broke up with me.
Kicked me out of the house.

I had nowhere else to go, no place of my own. No money. Nothing but the clothes on my back.

"What?" I grumbled stopping to look over at him.

"I've got a new, product." He gave me a sickening grin.

"Not interested." I continued to walk.

"What are you doing out alone at this time of the morning?" He questioned following me, his feet patting quickly ont he pavement to keep up with my long legs.

"None of your business." I spat.

"Let me guess, got kicked out or your birds place? No-where to go. Yeah, I've been there mate. What you need is a pick me up."

"Look, just leave me alone." I sighed so he finally stopped following me.

"It won't cost you anything. Infact, I'll pay you to try it out!" That caught my attention so I stopped. "There's a few quid to be made."

That was all that was needed for me to walk over to him and let him push that needle into my arm.
***

I pulled the twenty pound note from my pocket and scoffed at the sight of it.

I couldn't believe I really let myself get into that.
My soul's a sorry state.
There had to be better ways to earn money.

With a sigh, I shoved the crumpled note back to look around.

In all the seven hours I had sat on that bench I hadn't quite realised where I was.
Since I was then paying attention to my surroundings, I realised I wasn't far from my parents house. My childhood home. The place I grew up in.
I had to be welcome there.

As I started to walk towards the house a cold feeling took over my body. A chill almost.
It was almost as if something bad was going to happen.
It was one of those feelings that don't stop clawing at the back of your neck.

But I didn't have too long to dwell on the thought.

I was at the front door what seemed only seconds after I had started to walk, my key chain my my hand.
The key turned in the lock easily.
They hadn't changed the locks since I was a kid. I still had my key from my teenage years.

"Carol? Are you home already?" Ian called from the kitchen. I didn't respond as I followed his voice until I was in the doorway. "Carol?" He turned his head to look at me. "Oliver? What're you doing here?"

"Can't I come see me own parents?" I questioned walking over and standing beside him, looking down at the onion he was cutting up.

"I guess." He mumbled. He sounded off so I looked up at him. "Are you still getting high? I thought you quit the drugs!"

"I can't!" I snapped walking over to the table and running my finger tips over it. "They help."

"No they don't, doctors help."

He's lying to you. Doctors don't help. They just lock you in padded cells. You don't need a doctor.

"I don't need a doctor." I spoke quietly as if to prove that I was sane.

"You do."

"You just want to get rid of me!" I yelled turning to face Ian who had the house phone in his hand. "What are you doing?"

"I'm calling someone that can help you."

"No!" I jumped forward and knocked the phone from his hands.

"What is wrong with you? I'm just trying to help."

"You can't!" I pushed him against the counter. "Do you really think that you could fix me?! Nothing can!" I turned and walked to the doorway where I stood with my head hung.

"Let us try!" Ian replied. He had a pleading tone in his voice. As if he honestly wanted to help.

Liar.

He just wanted me gone. That's all everyone wants. They want me out of their lives.

"You can do so much with your life Oliver but you're wasting it. If you-"

"Bullshit!" I turned to look at him quickly. "I'm a never ever will be and you know it so don't fucking lie to me!"

"Let me get you help."

"No!" Before I knew what I was doing I had lunged forward and grabbed him by his shirt before throwing him to the floor roughly. "I don't need help!"

"Okay, okay! You don't need help." Ian exclaimed as I raised my fist. "Just, calm down and we can watch some TV or something, like normal families."

"Yeah, we're normal, normal family." I mumbled lowering my fist.

He's lying. He'll put you away. In a nut home. He needs to go. You need to kill him.

I tensed my jaw as that immoral voice spoke inside my mind.

"He's my dad, I can't kill him." I responded aloud.

Ian's eyes widened. I could tell he was scared. It was obvious.
I could see the hell in my fathers eyes for bringing up such a child as myself.

"K-kill me?" He stuttered. "You don't need to do that Oliver."

You do. Kill him. What are you waiting for?!

"Shut up! Shut up!" I yelled clamping my hands over my ears.
Of course, that didn't stop the voice in my mind.

It's just business

My hands slowly fell to be by my sides as I stared at my father.

"Just let me go." Ian begged, backing up as I reached for the knife he had left on t he chopping board beside the half cut up onion.

"I can't do that." I stated walking towards him until his back hit the table leg. "You'll tell everyone I'm crazy. I'm not crazy!"

"Then prove it."

"How?! You guys will never believe me! No, I need to just remove the problem." The light reflected off of the blade as I turned it in my hand. "I'm sorry but you've got to go."

The feeling of the blade sinking into my fathers stomach was one that I didn't particuarly like. It was soft, too easy.

Killing someone is too easy.

A further three times I plunged that blade into Ian's stomach before something stopped me.
A pain in my back.
A stabbing pain.

Once the bloody knife was on the floor, I slowly turned to see my mother stood only feet behind me, a blood covered knife in her shaking hands.

I looked over at the counter to see one of the knives missing from the knife block.

"I've already called the police!" Carol shrieked turning my attention back to her. "How could you do that to your own father?!"

"He-" I started but fell against the table due to a sudden rush of dizziness. "You stabbed me..." I mumbled, my wors begining to slur together as I looked up at my hysterical mother.

"I had to! I had to Oliver! You would've killed him!"

That made me think; did I finish the job or not?

Once looking down at Ian who was slouched by my feet, I realised I had.
Surrounded by blood and lifeless is a sure sign of a successful murder.

"Looks to me like I done just that." I stated looking back up as my legs gave way and I slid to the floor until I was laid beside my father.

I felt his blood begin to soak my clothes as everything slowly became out of focus.

Sirens became a new sound.
Not long after that flashing lights outside of the house.

The last thing I saw was my own reflection in the knife my mother held because I lost the ability to stay awake any longer.