The Beginning

The silence was the first thing I noticed. Not a peaceful silence, but the heavy, suffocating kind that feels like it's pressing against your eardrums.

I looked down at my hands. They were shaking. My skin was a pale, sickly contrast to the dirt and the dried smear of blood across my cheekbone. Everything was a blur the dark red pools on the floor, the distorted silhouettes of the people who killed my family?

How did I get here?

Only twenty-four hours ago, the world was still bright. I remember the heavy click of my front door as I left for class. Another Tuesday. Another escape. I walked down the tree lined street, the sunlight dappling through the leaves, feeling the weight of my backpack and the crushing boredom of college life.

Then, my phone buzzed.

J 🤍: Hey! Do you wanna come hang out with us at the bar? We're heading there now!

A small smile tugged at my lips. J was the only thing getting me through the day. At the bar, under the hazy purple and blue neon lights, she was a beacon. Her long, jet black hime

cut hair was perfect, her eyes sparkling with an innocence I felt I'd lost years ago.

"N! Over here!" she'd yelled, waving wildly.

We clinked glasses. We laughed. For a moment, tucked away in the corner of that dim bar, I felt safe. Later that night, stumbling under the orange glow of streetlights, she leaned her weight against me.

"Stay at my place tonight, N," she'd slurred. "You're too buzzed to walk back." N says no it's okay I can get back home. J says "You don't want to stay with me?" N says okay I'll stay with a big smile on her face oh how I wish I could have stayed forever.

Inside her apartment, tucked under a thick blanket on the couch, I watched her move in the soft lamp light. Sometimes, being with her, I could almost forget... everything else.

The next morning, My head throbbed. I walked up my driveway, only to stop dead.

The front door was slightly ajar. Creeeeak.

I pushed it open. The house was a wreck. Overturned furniture. Shattered glass. A dark, red smear dragged across the white rug. I stood in the center of the carnage. My family was on the floor. I didn't scream. I didn't cry. I just felt... peace.

Is that wrong?