, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,


It was all deafening noise.

Mum telling me to do the dishes.

Dad wanting me to take out the trash.

Sarah and Jane playing karaoke with their Barbies.

Ben clocking some stupid GTA game.

It was just noise.

Deafening noise.

I came home from school one day, just wanting some peace and serenity. Some place where I could hear myself think.
Noise. The house was full of it. My hands covered my ears as the loudness threatened to deafen me. It clawed at me, trying to choke my ear drums in deafening noise.

It was getting worse.

Not pausing to even go to the toilet, I ran upstairs and closed my door, hoping for the serenity of silence.

It was not there.

Ben’s bassy speakers let out a dull thud from room next door, echoing around my room. Grabbing my favourite pair of ear plugs, I hoped into my bedroom cupboard and closed the door. Inserting the ear plugs, I laid down on the floor, curling up into a fetal position.

Sweet silence overwhelmed me.

I could finally think.

I could finally express myself.

I could finally be me.

And in the serenity of silence I suddenly heard it.

The whisper.

I listened attentively in the quiet as it gave me instructions that my heart rejoiced to hear. It told me to wait. Prepare and wait for the opportune moment.

And so I waited.

For three painful years I prepared myself.

And I waited.

And then finally one day, while lying in my bedroom cupboard, the whisper returned to me once again.

The day had finally come.

Exiting the cupboard, I grabbed the blowpipe that lay on my bedside table, the same blowpipe that I had practiced with relentlessly over the last three years. Sinking to my knees, I felt for a hidden box under my bed, concealed from a prying mother’s eyes. My fingers finally made contact with it and I pulled it out and carried out over to my desk. Opening it up, I pulled out of the box five darts.

One for each of them.

Each dart was coated with a snfake venom, containing powerful neurotoxins that would cause paralysis with seconds, yet rendering the victim still completely conscious and able to feel.

Fully prepared, I then got to work.

I found Sarah and Janne playing karaoke with their Barbies.

3 darts left.

Ben was in his room, clocking some stupid GTA game.

2 darts left.

Mum found me in the hallway and started telling me to do the dishes.

1 dart left.

I walked into the lounge. Dad was on the couch, watching TV. He asked me to take out the trash.

0 darts left.

Twelve hours later I stood in the lounge.

It was silent.

I walked upstairs, into every room.

It was silent.

It had been worth it.

It had been worth painfully taking the time to slowly stitch Sarah’s and Jane’s Barbies into their gaping mouths. And then going through the frustration of digging a large hole in the back lawn, burying their bodies while their lungs gasped for air in the dirt that surrounded them.

It had been worth it.

It had been worth it slowly electrocuting Ben with the playstation that he held so dear. The playstation that he always spent time with rather than me.

It had been worth it.

It had been worth slowly covering Mum’s body in petrol and watching as the flames enveloped her every inch. She always did say never to do anything in half measures.

It had been worth it.

It had been the worth the bloody mess of slitting open Dad’s stomach and feeding his still attached intestines to my pet rats. He never did like my pets rats.

It had been worth it.

And finally, after all those years of waiting.