Chapter 8

It is my birthday.

I am so happy. I am a six-year-old. I am older than yesterday.

We are going to have a party. Just the three of us. Me, mommy, and daddy.

There is going to be a cake and mommy is going to make it. She will make my favorite cake with only chocolate because she knows how much I love chocolate.

But daddy is going to take to a toy shop. I can buy any three toys I want. I have already decided what I want. I want a toy car, a toy train, and a Lego set. And won't be able to refuse it because he has promised me.

I open the front door and run out to our front garden with mommy screaming at me to slow down. It was such a pretty day and it was also very breezy.

"Wait up, kiddo," said daddy. "If you run at this rate you will be out of breath even before we reach the shop."

"I can't wait, daddy," I say excitedly while jumping up and down.

Mommy then stops daddy just outside the door.

My parents look so happy together. They both are beautiful too. I look just like mommy but my eyes are like daddy. sometimes she jokes that I have both of their best features, I agree with her too.

"Listen, don't agree to buy him something expensive alright. Whatever it is will be broken by the end of this week," says mommy.

"Don't worry so much. I can handle him just fine. Besides, it's his birthday. He's been alive for six years. Let him be rewarded for that," said daddy to convince her.

"But I don't want to spoil him."

"He already is."

My parents continue to argue with each other like that for quite some time. meanwhile, I get irritated by their behavior. It was my birthday and both of them are not even trying to stop their talking.

"Daddy, come on. Let's go," I shout, trying to get my father to move. "The shop will be closed."

But looks at me with a serious look and says, "Drake, we are talking, honey. Don't interrupt in the middle."

Now I am angry with them.

As my parents continue to talk, I walk up to the middle of the road. I stand there with my arms crossed and stomp my feet, hoping to get their attention. But they did not even seem to notice me.

"Daddy," I shout, "If you don't come right now I will stand here all day."

"Sweetheart, please calm- DRAKE WHAT ARE YOU DOING THERE? COME HERE" said mommy with a scared look on her face.

"Drake, seriously? Your tantrums are getting out of hand these days. Come here," my father says as he makes his way down the stairs.

"No. You were not listening to me," I said.

"Don't make me come there, young man. Final warning now. Come here," said daddy angrily as he stands on the sidewalk.

I shouted back a no as a response.

Just then a screeching noise is heard from my right.

I turn to see a white car zig-zagging its way down the road at a very high speed.

My body froze with shock and fear. I don't know what to do. So I stand there like a statue.

Suddenly I felt someone grab my hand and throw me towards the sidewalk in front of our house.

Then a very loud thud is a heard, then a crash followed by a woman's shrill scream.

I open my eyes and see that the car had crashed into the light pole in front of our neighbor's house. But my father was nowhere to be seen.

I make my way up to the front side of the car and there is where I see it.

My father. Between the car and the light-pole.

His whole upper was resting on the hood of the car. No sign of his legs. His eyes were open but they were empty and dull. Like the light that shone inside them was suddenly switched off.

I say" Daddy" in a small voice and touch his hand which was hanging without any support.

I look at my hands and get terrified by what I see.

The wetness covered my palm completely. Leaving no spot unstained.

Blood. Of my father. On my hands.

Blood. Blood. Blood.

Blood on the car.

Blood on the street.

Blood on me.

Blood.

Red Blood.

Red. Red. Red blood.

Thick, red blood.

Red.

Red.

I hate red.

I hate it. I hate it. I hate it.

I hate daddy. I hate mommy. I hate blood. I hate red.

I hate myself.

I hate myself.

Someone's screams take me out of my frozen state.

I see my mother crouched in front of daddy's figure, crying and begging him to be with her.

I wanted to hug mommy. To touch her.

But by doing so, I might stain her.

Mommy is clean. If I touch her she might get stained.

Like me.

She was constantly begging daddy to come back, to not leave her. But she was wrong.

Daddy was already gone. He was not coming back. He was dead.

And I killed him.

I killed my daddy.

I am a killer.

And suddenly everything went black as I felt myself fall on the cold hard ground with blood in my hands and ready to be haunted by the memories of the worst nightmare of my life.