The air was cold. Every breath that escaped my lungs transformed into a thick cloud in front of me. The cloud swirled and evaporated as quickly as it had come. The old truck was cold; it could barely hold onto a dash of heat. It used to belong to the man inside the house. The green light radiating off of the dashboard clock flashed. Time to go.
Creaks from the old metal door filled the dark night’s atmosphere. No one was home at this time of year; always away for the holidays. Slamming the door of the truck, I circled around to the back. The latch of the half-door was stuck, most likely frozen to itself again. Exhaling sharply I stepped back and kicked the door numerous times. The echoes of the screaming metal drowned out the ringing in my ears.
Once the half-door was open, crumple noises began to sound from the nylon jacket that slowly fell off of my shoulders without knowing. The jacket made a small ruffle sound as it hit the bed of the truck. I had to change completely in order to be as secretive as possible. The decision to not wear a piece of itchy fabric upon my face came easily. I looked down as the sharp, lethal instruments crowding the bed. I knew what I had to do, but the voice of my conscious got me questioning my reasoning behind this brutal idea. No, I had to do it. I have to do this.
I leapt into the bed of the truck and attached the belt around my waist. The metal of the .9 millimeter was cold against the bare flesh of my side. A shiver rushed through my body, raising the petite bumps within my skin. Standing up, I clutched a handle with the one and a half foot blade attached to the end of it, sliding it into the other holster of the belt. A four inch blade was already hiding inside my boot.
I landed next to the side of the truck with a sharp pain shooting through my ankles. Wiping particles of rust off of my jeans, I circled around and lifted the half- door with the top of my foot. A feeling of making myself known flowed through my mind. I wanted someone to find me, to stop me, to tell me that I was crazy but sadly no one was there to slap me across the face.
There were two noises that invaded my ears: the sound of my boots crushing the fresh blanket of white, and a beating vibrating through my chest. Boom….boom……..boom. Boom….boom…….boom. Boom….boom…….boom. The sound gave me a rhythm to follow as I walked towards the front door. It was painted differently with a golden knocker in the middle. Soon enough I was taking the key that was hiding underneath the mat, placing it into the slot and forcing the tumblers to grind against each other.
The door no longer squealed as it was forced open. Nothing was the same, everything had changed. It felt like I had never lived here before, that my presence was washed away with paint and wood floors. I heard the door close itself behind me. Staring at me was the staircase that lead up to their room.
The sinking ability of the carpeted stairs muffled the sounds of my heavy feet. These feet were leading a person of death and evil towards the innocent and weak. No. They weren’t innocent. They were guilty and it was written all over their faces. Whenever they appeared on TV, the guilt was painted in neon green. There was no way of denying it.
No longer were there pictures of the family upon the walls. They wanted to rid themselves of every memory of their children. Great; another reason to be here in the middle of the night. What was I thinking? They didn’t mean any harm; they were just doing their jobs. A heavy sigh escaped my lips. What the hell am I doing here?
I had a sudden urge to turn back, to race down the steps and back into the heatless truck, to drive away and talk to them tomorrow. No. I have to do this. If I don’t….. Oh, who knows what will happen. The important thing is, is that I’m here now and I might as well get it over with.
There was a light shining from underneath their door. If there were noises coming from inside I couldn’t hear them because of an intense theme song that began to play in my head. My fingers wrapped around the frozen metal at my side. The handle of the door was warm. My wrist flicked, the door flew open. The sudden light blinded me for a moment. I could see it now.
Blood splattered over the wall above them in precise diagonal lines. The sheets of the bed tangled from the ferocious attempts to escape. The man who I had known until this moment as father lay still on the bed; his wife dangling from the other side, her head tilted towards me with lifeless eyes. A man dressed in black stood above her with a merciless grin. Someone had beaten me to it. Damn.
