Life As He Knows It

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Paper Planes (A Short Story About Josh)

“Lovely lilacs love to live. Lovely lilacs love to leave. Lovely lilacs love to hate themselves,” he said a little muffled from the bag around my head. I couldn’t see a thing. I wanted to scream as loud as I could but the cloth gag in my mouth wouldn’t let me.

Why me; why me; why me,I wondered and cried softly. The rope bounds around my torso had made me lose feeling in my arms a long time ago and the blood that ran down them was unnoticed by me until I felt it on my legs.

“You know,” his voice was closer now, so close that I could smell the peppermint toothpaste in his breathe. “I really don’t like it when people don’t look me in the eyes when I’m talking to them.” I sensed his punch before it hit me. It was so hard that I toppled to the ground.

I was unfeeling of pain by this point and the sting the punch left on my face wasn’t the worst I had gone through this past week; or had it been a day; an hour? Maybe even a second. I had no way of knowing.

“I really am sorry about all this. Most people never believe me when I say that I don’t want to hurt them,” his voice had become soft and gentle. “But the voices in my head tell me to.” I could hear his footsteps walk away and up the stairs I couldn’t see. ’Why me?’

I remember the times when he would make me paper planes to play with. He was my own father; him.

“Josh!” He called, in the room once again. He walked over to me and pulled the bag off my head. I could now see my father and my unconscious older sister, Aubrey, on the floor next to me.

Fear gripped my stomach.

“I brought you something.” He held out his hand and in the palm of it sat a paper plane. White as innocence and folded like an OCD. I sobbed behind my gag. I looked at my father’s face. He smiled. “I’m going to do to you exactly what I did to your mother.”

His foot came down onto my skull before I could understand what was happening. I heard my sister scream as she woke just before I couldn’t see again; only this time it wasn’t from a bag, but because my vision failed. ’Please kill me…

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