Blood... blood was everywhere.
On the walls. On the chairs.
Red was stained everywhere.
This house I once called home, was now covered in blood.
Every inch, the cracks in the walls...
Fuck... even the ceiling had some blood on it.
I can’t believe it.
It was short and painless but it was horrible to watch.
Two members had gunshot wounds to the chest.
The third one had multiple stab wounds, at least fifteen, with the knife still in the body.
The fourth was a kid.
She was suffocated to death, so she wasn’t bloody.
Then another child, a boy.
He was tortured. Covered in cuts by a knife, then made to drink bleach. Then lastly, a single bullet to the head.
Then there was what seemed like the eldest son.
He was tied to a chair facing his family.
He was forced to watch his family’s murder.
Once all of them were dead, the brothers’ legs seemed to be shattered and broken.
But that wasn’t it.
His cuts on his arms were reopened and seemingly much deeper than some that weren’t open.
He was covered in blood. Practically from head to toe.
It didn’t stop at the cuts though, since he also had a knife stuck in his neck.
But it wasn’t satisfying so there’s one bullet to the head.
Can’t say they didn’t deserve it.
Abusive, an alcoholic, a drunk, etc.
The family was a mess.
Such a mess I killed them.
Murdered my flesh and blood.
The second oldest.
The DISAPPOINTMENT of the family.
The GIRL of all people.
Hah. They were sick. Diseased.
All I did was take out the trash.
And it wasn’t even that hard.