I’ve always been one of those people without friends because I was the only one with blue eyes. People think I’m a freak, which I am because I’ve killed a man with my own two hands. It all started on an average school day. To me, being called names, getting paper thrown at me and being alone was normal. No one would dare talk to me. I was an outcast, always have been and always will be. But can I say liking it was normal? It must’ve made me crazy.

I came home after that average day of school. The only words I remember saying was, “Mum, Dad, I’m home.” As always, there was no response. I took off my shoes and put on my slippers.

There was something unusual.

I dropped my bag on the ground and looked around from where I was. It was so quiet that I almost believed that my parents weren’t home. I walked down the hall and into the kitchen, opening one of the cupboard for a glass of milk when I saw red on my side. I stopped what I was doing and walked up to the patch of blood thinking it must’ve been something else. Was it wine? But then it led me to another puddle.

I rushed back and pulled out a knife to protect myself. Don’t ask me how big it was because I don’t remember. Quickly I rushed back and followed the pool of blood cautiously, looking around my surroundings. My heart was pounding each move I made as it leads me up the stairs. There I looked around from where I was, speechless and scared.

My mother’s body was lying on the floor and my father, standing beside her with an expressionless face and a knife in his own hand. He looked up at me and took a step forward. I swallowed hard and held out my own knife now scared of the father I once knew, the father that had raised me and cared for me. It was all lies. That loving smile was gone and replaced with nothing.

I looked around myself. You could say I was almost crying, with the tears in my eyes, I couldn’t see a thing. I took one last look at my mother’s dead body and ran down the stairs with loud footsteps that followed after me. I didn’t know what to do or where to go. Because of my scared and confused feelings, I ran into the nearest bathroom and locked the door behind me.

There, I backed away and stared at the door handle that suddenly started moving. He was after me. Behind the door, he started banging. I looked around the bathroom hoping there could be something to help me escape. The banging was making me tremble in fear. All I was doing was pulling out toilet rolls out of the cupboard, I was a mess.

“Sera, open the door.” Those words made me jump. I looked at the door scared, my hands were shaking, Should I really trust the man I used to call father? There was a dead silence, I took a deep breath in and swallowed, I was starting to sweat and my teeth were chattering.

“Stop being childish and open the damn door!” I jumped again, my heart was pounding even louder. I could hear it. I stood up straight and griped tightly onto the knife. There was no way out and nowhere to hide. I had to face my own father.      

There I stood facing the door, armed, I looked into the mirror to realise my hair was a mess and that my eyes had turned completely pale blue along with my skin, I was a living ghost. There was a loud thump that caught my attention, my eyes narrowed down the door to see that it opened and there in the door way stood my father, all calm.

I stared at him to see him walk towards me. Each step he took made tears fall from my eyes. The words he said to me then was, “Sera are you scared? I won’t hurt you.”

Lies. I bit the bottom of my lip and pointed the knife at him, taking little steps back. What was I supposed to do then?  Should I let him kill me? I was living a lousy life anyways. But do you want to know what he said next?

“Sera, Your mothers perfectly fine, she and I just went through a rough patch, just come here and we can talk about it. Your mother was a anyways.” My heart stopped then, how could he say such things? I didn’t know what to do but to charge forward, for saying such words, I couldn’t forgive him. I looked up into his eyes as the knife stabbed his heart, it didn’t look like it hurt at all.

He stared back down at me and gave me one of those loving smiles, by now I was confused. What was this? He fell to his knees as I pulled the knife out of his heart and stared at him, but still he had the smile on his face, that loving, calm and gentle smile. It made me scared that I stabbed his heart the second time.

The words that were going through my head were, ‘Can’t you feel pain? Can’t you feel how mother felt? Doesn’t it hurt?’ How was I supposed to know if it actually hurt or not? He never ended up stabbing a knife through my heart. I ended up crying, I sat there and cried, stabbing his heart multiple times. Knowing that he was already dead, but why did I still feel so scared? The feeling like he was going to sit up and pin me down?

I wiped my eyes to feel something warm. I looked down at my hands to see it covered in blood. My hands trembled endlessly in front of me. Tears blurred my vision as I stood up to look at my reflection in the mirror. I had wiped his blood on my face and the only thing was going through my head was ‘I killed my father.’

Yoon Sera, what have you just done?