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Grade
8

She continued to pace back and forth, her bare feet stomping against the soft, carpeted floor of her bedroom. She had been doing this for hours, never seeming to grow tired or bored of the continuous task. By “she”, I am of course referring to Maddie; a thirteen year old girl with long brown hair who had more power to her kick than anyone’s business. I would know, being one of her old and beloved Converse. I was growing more and more concerned for the child as the minutes sluggishly ticked past, her feet slamming into the ground with more force than seemed healthy. 

First thing I know, it’s just a normal day at school. Normal routine, normal schedule, normal everything. However, this all seemed to change the moment I felt her feet dash out the door of her classroom and begin to head towards her house. I knew something was wrong the moment she began running, for she was not one to miss class under any conditions. I only wish I could know what caused this sequence of events, for like most, I was daydreaming during a history lesson at the time. Furthermore, she sprinted up to her bedroom the moment she reached her house, slamming the door behind her with a loud thud. Upon reaching her room, she immediately began to kick her teal-colored walls, creating large dents in the sturdy concrete and causing the thin layer of mud that coated myself to fling all across the room. She appeared to be overwhelmed with emotions, possibly having a panic attack of some sorts. Her face appeared extremely flushed, a sickening, dark red overtaking the usual rosy-pink color of her cheeks. Minutes went by like hours as she seemed to lose all control, flailing her arms and legs about wildly in the air. She then throws me off of her feet, groaning in frustration as she does so. Add on a few hours or so of unceasing amounts of pacing and occasional shrieks of fury, and that brings us to the present. 

She seems to have calmed down considerably compared to hours previously, as her extreme fit of rage has since been minimized into a mere consistent stride. Her feet appear to keep a steady rhythm as she marches, her stomps shaking the floor ever so slightly. 

All of the sudden, the sound of a slamming door sounds from the first floor, followed by a muffled “I’m home”. Maddie’s face pales, and a ghostly atmosphere seems to fill the room. She stops her pacing, rushing over to her school bag which was so carelessly thrown onto her bed. She appeared to be searching for something, her hands roaming about the contents of the backpack. Her eyes then widened, snatching out a white pill bottle and turning it upside down. She groaned in exasperation when she realized that the bottle was empty, chucking it across the room in frustration. The bottle rolled on the ground until it reached my sole, and I could barely make out the word “chlorpromazine” scribbled out in black sharpie. I look up at Maddie, only to notice the tears that stained her cheeks. She all of a sudden collapsed to the floor, exploding in a fit of sobs and hiccups. She held herself as she rocked back and forth in a weak attempt to comfort herself, her body trembling with each whimper that escaped her lips. I so desperately wanted to reach out to her, to ask her what was troubling her and assure her that things would be alright. But of course, being a shoe, I couldn’t. I could only sit still and watch her weep in sorrow, feeling helpless and useless. Maddie then stood up swiftly, her shakes and sobs still ceasing to subside. She slowly staggered towards the door, a slight limp her step. With a gleam of twisted determination in her eyes, she turned the door handle and stepped out of the room. 

 

 

 

Maddie’s POV

 

My vision was blinded with rage. Fury flooded my veins. Unholy thoughts invaded my mind, poisoning any common sense that might have remained. I felt light headed, sick to my stomach. My limbs felt weak, but at the same time stronger than ever before. I felt like I was capable of anything, possibly even murder. Adrenaline coursed through my body, causing my heart to thump wildly in my chest. Anxiety bubbled in my stomach, attacking my insides and drowning me in fear. I stumbled down the hallway, black spots dotting my vision. Revenge clouded my senses, controlling my every move and pulling on every demented desire trapped inside of my mind. Being preoccupied by my thoughts, I clumsily ran face-first into a mirror that sat on the hallway walls, momentarily halting my twisted mission of revenge. I stared at my reflection, noting the prominent dark circles painted under my red eyes and the ghostly white tint of my skin. My pupils were dilated to an unnatural size, reflecting the current chaotic state of my mind. I moved past the mirror to continue on with my gruesome scheme, utterly disgusted with my appearance. My father now sat only mere yards away from me, silently reading the daily news paper. 

    “Look at him, look at how disgustingly innocent he’s acting. Like he’s done nothing wrong!” she whispered, her words like knives to my eardrums. I sighed nervously, becoming anxious with what I was about to do. He still hadn’t noticed my presence, therefor it wasn’t too late to turn back. I began to question my previous plan, doubting on whether it was truly the solution to my problems.   

    “Don’t you dare back out!” she screamed, my head rattling from the sudden harsh statement.

    “Are you really going to let him get away with what he does to you? Let him throw you around like a rag doll day after day? He deserves to be punished! What fool would even consider putting up with his loads of abuse? Oh that’s right, you would,” she sneered. I could practically feel her devilish smile brush against my brain, knowing her attempts to persuade me were working. 

“Stop acting like a retard and kill him! What are you waiting for! Kill him! Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!” she shrieked, overwhelming me, causing my legs to collapse to the floor. Her words pierced my brain like a knife, rattling my skull and melting my insides. My hands started to shake, my body turning cold to the bone. My body began to tremble uncontrollably, quivering madly as another panic attack started to take its place in my mind.

“What is wrong with you? Get off the floor you idiot.” I heard my dad grumble. As soon as his words hit my eardrums, I broke. I felt whatever little sanity that may have remained drip out of my senses as I launched up off the ground. I immediately  reached for his neck, knocking him off of his chair and onto the cold, hardwood floor. He gasped, sputtering and spitting everywhere as my grip on his neck tightened. His face began to turn a light shade of blue as he struggled to free himself from my grasp, but he was no match to the strength that the voices inside my head provided me with. He then began to pale, his neck still a deep purple from the bruises that my fingers provided. his choking ceased, and he fell silent underneath my grasp. I shrieked, leaping up from my straddling position on top of him. I examined his face; purple neck, blue veins, white skin. I began to scream in agony as I dropped to my knees, guilt running through my body like the very blood that ran through my veins. I had just killed my father.

 

State
MI
Zip Code
48160