It's a nightmare, It has to be, right? This couldn't happen in real life...

I looked around myself, and the sight was even more unbearable than the last time i looked. Blood everywhere, my mother, father...what happened? I looked at myself - my wrists were cut deeply, but there was no blood?

All i remember was going to sleep, and feeling very, very cold. I woke up, came downstairs, and, well, now I'm here, aren't i? My mother is lying over by the television. She wears nothing but her socks and a solitary shoe. I hate to say, but it looks as if she has been brutally raped. Her face is caved in; If she were not in this house, i would not recognize her as my own mother. By her head, lay the instrument that caused the hideous damage - a large sledgehammer. On it, were fragments of my dear old mothers jaw.

My father was slightly more recognizable, most of his body sitting on his comfortable chair. Next to him was a now cold cup of tea.(which surprisingly was the only thing which was not broken, or covered in Human remains)Next to this lay his hand. Most of his limbs had been chopped; he looked like he put up quite a struggle. I could clearly see he had been sat back down in his chair by the killer - his mouth was taped into a large grin; and his eyes, well i do not want to even think about it myself, let alone discuss it. My living room was a mess. Everything which accumulated to be a rather nice living quarter for myself and my family was now reduced to nothing.

I didn't even know how to feel, should i call the police? should i sit here and mourn?
WAIT! Footprints! Bloody footprints leading up the stairs to my room!
Overcome with panic i aimed my body towards the door and ran. I almost ran into to officer that came through the door.

"Help me!" I screamed, and was about to break down crying when i noticed something - he walked right by my, as did another dozen or so officers, and a whole forensic team. Confused and utterly dumbfounded, all i could do was listen:

"Anyone who is squeamish, don't come it, i don't want everyone being sick...did you find anyone else?"

"Yes" One of the crime lab piped up, "The son, upstairs, his wrists are cut, and there are bloody footprints leading up the stairs. I think he committed suicide"..

"WHAT?" I screamed even louder "I'M HERE YOU MORONS!"

I ran upstairs - no-one stopped me. Upon entering my room, I'm as confused as i have ever been in my 19 years on this earth...i was lying in bed...dead...just lying there. I'm sure it was me, but it couldn't have been, i just woke up there about 20 minuted ago.

"We think he went crazy and killed his parents, sir" the forensics lad grimly noted to his superior.

He started to walk out the room, and i walked in front of him. They'll have to notice me now!
I felt tingly, and then noticed him walking downstairs. He walked right through me.
My legs gave way, and i slid down the wall onto the floor, just staring in despair.
I looked at myself. I was Grey, and i couldn't feel anything.

And from here on i sit, staring at the same crime seen, for the next 50, maybe 60 years...sobbing, wishing i could just wake up...

Learn more about this author, Melissa Zienkiewicz.
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