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Alcohol
The night is dark, but unsettlingly bright. The moon is full, and watches as I stand here. The wind howls as something wet drips off my hand and runs down my thigh, finally reaching the ground. I am in deep thought, and am unaware of it all.
They never understand. I do everything they ask and more. I clean up their messes and drive them home after they drink themselves into a slobbering mess. I had a job, and have always bought my own things. I don’t ask them, never have, but now when I finally have my ticket out, they have crushed me down.
I had the perfect job. The best part was that it provided me with an apartment, fully furnished with prepaid rent, as long as I continued working and maintained the apartment. Last week I was offered a promotion, one where I could move out to the other side of the country, and this one included a house. All that I had to do was have everything out of the apartment by the next day. When my boss called me on my way to the new house and told me I was fired, I couldn’t understand. He said the apartment was a wreck, beer bottles everywhere, and that I owed him eleven-hundred dollars for the repairs. I had forgotten that I gave them a key. They ruin everything! I could kill for them to be gone!
My train of thought is interrupted by an itch on my forehead. I reach my hand up to scratch, and see that it is dripping with blood. Looking down I see them, my parents, hacked to pieces and covered in blood. In my left hand I feel something heavy. I see the axe that has killed them.
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