Under the Willow Tree

Author's Note: With this piece, which I used as a DWA, we could go in any direction we wanted.  I wasn't exactly in a happy mood, so this is what I came up with.  I tried to really emphasize the story with word choice and really bring out my voice.  Comment below;)

Betrayal: the breaking or violation of trust. It spread through my veins like poison, but my mind remained oblivious, daring myself not to believe it. I stared him down, the real enemy, as I silently cursed myself for not figuring it out sooner. The suspicion had been there all along, tugging at a corner of my mind, but never submerging into a complete accusation. It sat there, waiting for me to put it together, but it was too late now. “You killed them,” I stated the obvious, trying out the bitter words in my own mouth. He said nothing, but his eyes danced with the truth that I already knew. I could sense him clench the knife tighter in the grip of his hand, sparkling with the blood I knew was there, even in the darkness. I stood up straighter, my eyes still locked with his, with nothing more to say. “See you later, dad.” And with that I turned and walked away, already planning my revenge.

The vacant street, in which I walked, was where I finally allowed my composure to break; all the emotions I had been hiding seeped through the cracks. It left me breathless, as I stood in the middle of the street hunched over, gasping for air. I willed myself not to cry, but I knew I had no one left. I tried so hard to shake the memory of what had just happened from my mind, but I knew it was no use. I still heard the screams as they echoed in my ears; my hand hovered over the doorknob, forcing myself to open it. The fear was bubbling at the surface, but I ignored it as I walked down the stairs of my basement. I could vaguely make out the outline of the missing bodies, sprawled across the floor. The only emotion I could identify was not the fear, but the shock of my own father standing above them and his eyes as they found mine just before he plunged the knife into his newest victim’s heart: my mother.

I had so many questions. My feet seemed to move themselves and I didn’t completely register where I was until I was there. My willow tree. It wasn’t the smartest idea, given the circumstances. This had been where my dad had always take me when I was a kid. We’d sit under it and stare up into the stars until I feel asleep in his arms. I wonder if even back then he had begun to lose his mind. Now, I begin to recall the outbursts so vividly, where I could feel him shift into a different person. It ate him up inside, until he was no longer there, his mind was abandoned. If you asked me how long I’d sat there, I wouldn’t be able to tell you. All I remember was in the corner of my mind, I sensed movement. I whipped my head around only to become face to face with of what was left of my father.

“I didn’t think you still came here.” I didn’t reply as he stepped closer, reaching out to stroke my cheek with his one free hand. I flinched at his touch, trying not to dwell on the fact that I knew his had hand held a knife behind his back while my own dangled empty at my sides.

“You’re mad.”

“Maybe so,” he considered, “But I can’t stop. And a secret between two can’t get out if one of them is dead.”

“There is another way,” I tried to reason with him, but even I knew it wasn’t getting through to him. There was no other way. Rain began to come down, each drop stung as it pelted down upon us, momentarily distracting him. And with that I took the pocket knife I had slipped out of my back pocket and stuck it into his throat as I said, “You die instead.”

I twirled the knife between my fingers, not letting the reality of what I done hit me just yet. I allowed myself one last glance at him, the fresh blood staining the collar of his shirt. Hastily, I turned away and walked into a search of a new life, one where I left all of my dark past behind me. And that was where I left him. Under the willow tree.