Tragedy of the Throne

November 30, 2011
By destinyfelicia GOLD, Studio City, California
destinyfelicia GOLD, Studio City, California
10 articles 0 photos 1 comment

Favorite Quote:
pain is inevitable, suffering is optional


Blood, splattered across the wall like venom, searing pain busted against every window.

I can see it in my mind as he approaches me, ready to devour the only sanity that’s left of me.

I am about to die.

His voice, speaking words of ancient tales, remembering the nights we solely shared. I remember him as clearly as the last sunset beckons me to run. The daylight is such a trivial thing and it will not win my life here.

I have lost this round.

His heavy breathing pounds against my ears like tribal drums. Keeping with such consistency, he whispers my name.

That is the confirmation I need to understand the reason behind his killing.

No other words need to be said, only the envy in his voice rises the suspicion to knowledge.

I wonder if it hurts him now, to do this, to me.

The bottle in his hand cracks, crushing into a thousand pieces between his fingers. I can see myself in the reflection as they tumble to the floor. My breathing hitches in my throat and I am unable to escape the death that is looking me straight in the face.

He takes another step closer to me, and he’s so close, I can feel his breath sweeping across my face.

Liquor and cigarettes.

His feet pound against the floorboards, their voice screeching against the weight of his body.

I remember when he protected me from everything I was afraid of.

I screamed his name more than I screamed our mothers.

And tonight, he is killing his little sister.

I wonder if he thinks our parents would be proud.

“Alice.”

His voice is softer than the night’s wind, making it’s way through the stormy clouds.

I stare at him through the darkness, hoping to find the pieces of the boy I called my brother. But all I see is the hard set jaw of a murderer.

His eyes are darker than the attic.

He places a foot in front of the other, and my back hits a wall.

I close my eyes and hold my breath.

My time is done.

That’s when I feel it. The crisp, cold, blade ripping through my jacket, my shirt, my flesh, hitting bone and then wall.
Air slips through my mouth as I gasp for it to come back. Blood rises in my throat, bubbling over my lips. I can feel the life slowly failing from me as I try to remember how to breathe.

My fingers wind themselves around my brother’s arms, trying to hold myself up from the betrayal.

The world is spinning.

I open my eyes to see the smile on his face. He leans into me, his lips barely brushing my earlobe.

“Maybe mommy will love me now.”

That’s the last thing I hear before the darkness takes over.



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