Blue italics > Kris’ thoughts

I’ve gotten closer to Kris in the past few minutes than anyone ever has in his entire lifetime. You couldn’t help the ghost of a smile which crept its way onto your face. However, the moment was indeed too good to be true.

The little specks of concern and hurt in his eyes returned to its usual state of gloom and blackness. You pressed yourself against the wall as he withdrew his kitchen knife from his utility belt. He stared intently into your eyes with burning fury as he gripped tighter onto his weapon, before storming out into the hallway and down the stairs.
 

You stared at the blank space in the wall, the beige, neutral colour enclosed with spider webs and dead prey. Shaking and smiling foolishly against the wall, you tried to contemplate on whether to flee or follow. What just happened? And why I am I still grinning?
 

Regaining your consciousness, you pushed all past occurrences aside and trailed behind the streaks of blood which imprinted onto the floorboards. You gawked in horror as Kris approached your father’s corpse; his eyed rolled back and his head dipped in his own pool of blood. A small gasp escaped your slightly parted lips, causing Kris to turn and face you. He shot pointed daggers through his mask but fortunately took no further action to harm you. Instead, he grasped onto your father’s blooded arm and dragged him along the floor; his head bobbing onto the floor boards and thumping as it did so.
 

Kris looked left to right, up and down. Assuring himself that no other forms of life were present, he removed a patch of grass from the ground. You peeked from behind the kitchen counter into the backyard, watching as Kris threw your father’s body into a deep cellar. You withdrew in trauma as the eyes of the lifeless, innocent people gaped back into your soul.  So this guy is completely fine with having dead bodies in his own backyard? Dear God.
 

Kris looked down into the basin of dead bodies, somewhat satisfied with his work. Because everyone had presupposed that he was no longer alive, many people had tried to claim this house for their own. On inspection, they’d encounter Kris and when doing so, Kris had killed them in order to keep his appearance a secret. But of course, his slaughtering had more than one reason.
 

He shook the feeling away and secured the wooden door once again before re shielding it with grass. That’s when his eyes trailed from his hands to the bandaged bruises and cuts on his arm. He grinned slightly and looked over to your small figure, slumped on the old wooden chair which creaked whenever you swayed.  Kris watched as you examined the drawings on the wall, taking every little detail into account. You pointed to the drawing and then to Kris. “Yours?” you mouthed and he nodded as a response. You smiled sweetly before returning to the exhibition hung on the wall.
 

Kris took a step closer to get a better look at you. How is she so quiet? Maybe it’s because she can’ talk. Or maybe it’s the fear that if she opened , too much would be spoken and she wouldn’t be able to stop it. You were by far the most fascinating and intriguing person Kris had ever come across. It all comes to show that actions do indeed speak louder than words.  A sudden pang of sadness jolted through Kris as he analysed you more and more. Your slim figure and long hair which cascaded down one shoulder, your eyes which reflected concern and distress was all too familiar for Kris to handle. Kirsten, his older sister, was always careful and gentle towards him, but he returned the gesture through her death.
 

From the corner of your eyes you could see Kris flex his clench upon his knife. You averted your examination of the drawings and looked into Kris’ eyes, his eagle-like stare gazing down on you. “Kris?” you mouthed, causing a strong heartache to rush through him. He stumbled away from the table and against the breakfast bench, clutching his head as he did so. Images of Kirsten recalled in his mind, causing his breaths to become short and hasty.
 

Careful in your steps, you approached him. Kris slashed the air with a swing of his knife quicker than you could react, earning a small cut on your arm. It was enough for it to hurt, but it was not an adequate deepness to cause rapid bleeding. You brought your hand to your mouth to stifle the scream which almost escaped your mouth.
 

Kris pushed you against the wall and raised his knife. You close your eyes as you breathe heavily, chest rising and deflating. Whatever was going to happen next, you hoped to dear God that your death would be quick and painless. Kris too was panting madly, he watched as you shrivelled vulnerably onto the wall. He was weak seeing someone so innocent and pure, someone so delicate and soft become an easy target. Who would have thought the devil himself had a soft spot? However, anger gave its way and Kris darted his weapon just inches from your face. What is this girl doing to me?
 

As Kris was struggling to wrench his knife from the wall, you took this opportunity to make a run for it. You scampered up the stairs as fast as you could into Kirsten’s room, the floorboards creaking and groaning under your weight. Kris staggered after you without his knife, only to be greeted with lace curtains fluttering in the wind of an open window.
 

You stared from the bushes and watched as he scanned the backyard with narrowed eyes, trembling profusely in the foliage. You shrank further into the flowering shrub until he hesitantly turned from the window and vanished from your sight. You swallowed hard and brushed away the tears which stained your cheeks. Oh my god. He tried to kill me.
 

It took at least an hour to walk home from the Wu Residence. You were practically dragging your own body along the streets; your mind was blank and your body was weak. You lifted your arm to knock on the door but the action was not needed as your step mum opened it first. “Woah,” she said as you stumbled forward and fell into her arms. “Where have you been kiddo?” You shrugged limply as you regained your state of mind and headed for your room.
 

As soon as your head had hit the soft material of your pillow, your silent sobs and chokes from your throat came into play. You recalled the tremors of the day, so much had happened in the time span of five hours. With the soft comfort of your pillows and blankets, the pattering of the raindrops on the rooftop, you slipped into unconsciousness and eventually lulled yourself to sleep.
 

I helped Kris kill my own father… am I any better than he is?

 

Author's note:

Hello my dear readers! Thank you to my amazing new subscribers as well as my old ones for constantly being on the lookout for the next chapter xx I appreciate you all dearly. Make sure you comment, share and subscribe!