Furious
By: Manda Frazier
One mans anger becomes your rage. That rage then turns to a furry that gets taken out on your wife and children. You beat them heartlessly without hesitating to see the fear and anger rising in their eyes, then you stop throwing punches, and you calm down. You turn and stare at their limp bodies, and with one last breath, and one last tear, they each say “I love you.” You run away from the room, unable to believe what you’ve just done. After standing there for a moment, you walk over to the liquor cabinet and pour yourself a drink. Suddenly you realize the full extent of your actions and flee the room, running past the battered bodies of the three people you just killed with your own bare hands. Running out the door, furious with yourself, sobbing uncontrollably with a bottle in your hands. You run, and run down the street, past the Police station terrified someone might find out it was you. You run under the little bridge that your kids liked to play on, and you find a knife that somebody dropped, and you look at it. Then you glance at your wrist. “I could end it all right now,” you say to yourself, “then nobody would ever find out that it was me.” You decide that you weren’t going to do that, that you would wait three days; one day for each person that you killed. One day passes, and the knife is still sitting there beside you in the same place, as it was the night before. You start to feel as if your world is crashing down onto your head, and you find the pain and guilt nearly unbearable. The second day passes, and it seems as though the knife is calling to you to run it across your wrist and make all the pains go away. Finally the third day comes, and you wake up with an intense fear rising throughout your body, and you look at the knife, and like you practiced this a dozen times before, you do it. You then walk as far as you can, blood dripping from your hand and wrist, and then you become so weak that you can no longer move, and you sit down. With your last bit of energy, you say good – bye t o your family and you apologize to your dead wife and children, and you say good – bye one more time, and then all goes dark. And to the rest of the world you are no more.
2006-08-03
23:16:55
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