Rated PG-13 for violence
As a form of teaser, this is the fourth chapter of my Saiyuki fanfiction “SW: Impressions”, SW standing for Sanzo Wannabe. This is a flashback ten years prior to the story featuring one of my original characters. Only the very end ties in with the main story, so no real spoilers here.
As an added bonus, know that this entire scene came nearly straight out of a dream I had the night before writing it. It was one whack dream… Enjoy.
Melinda awoke with a start. At nine years old, she was the lightest sleeper she knew. She sat up, groggy, trying to determine what had woken her. A feint gasping sound could be heard from under her bedroom door. Slowly, she pulled herself out from under the covers and stumbled to the door. As she reached for the handle, a sudden groan and muffled wheezing shook her to her senses. Something terrible was happening. Was Peter having an asthma attack?
She flung the door open and looked into his room. No one was there. Then, she realized that the sounds she had heard came, not from her brother's room, but from that of her parents. Turning around, she hurried to their bedroom doorway. She stopped short.
Peter stood calmly at the side of the bed. Why would he be up at 3 am?
After a few seconds of trying to piece together the situation in her mind, Peter slowly turned to face Melinda. Something gleamed in the dark as he moved. Something he held in his right hand, dangling nonchalantly by his side.
Fear seized Melinda. Peter turned completely around to face her. The whole front of his body was splattered in blood. It ran down his bare chest and dripped from his hands. He stepped towards Melinda. Terror stricken, she backed down the hall, breathing heavily, slowly shaking her head. He continued towards her, moving very slowly, with a slight smile on his face. He was happy to see her.
Something hard pressed against Melinda's back. The closet door at the end of the hall stopped her silent retreat.
"Why?" she asked quietly. "Why would you kill your own parents?"
Peter stopped walking. His expression changed slightly. His smile twisted into a look of controlled rage and disgust. "Why? How dare you ask me that. Ever since you and your stupid sister joined this family, they've never given me a second look. I was nine. I could take care of myself. Why should they worry about raising me? After all, you were only three, and that idiotic waste of skin you call "sister" wasn’t even two. Why should my parents, my actual parents, worry about me when you both were so helpless and alone?"
Peter's voice began to shake. "For these past six years, all they've ever done for me is say, "Oh, really, good job" whenever I brought home another award. But, with you, anything you did was amazing. "You got straight A's? Again? That's wonderful! Congratulations! We should go celebrate." Or worse, with your sister, "Oh, look at that. You actually passed your math test. That's great! You always try so hard. We love you so much.""
He spat the last two words. His breathing became heavy and his body shook.
Melinda eased herself away from the closet and backed into the kitchen, her hands behind her so she knew where she was going.
"But, why now? Why would you decide to do something to them now?" Her hands felt behind her as she reached the far side of the kitchen.
Peter looked at her steadily. He visibly calmed down. His shaking stopped and his breathing returned to normal. "What day was yesterday?" he asked gently.
A sense of dread fell on Melinda. What have I forgotten? I’ve forgotten something very important. What could have possibly happened on this date that our forgetting about it would send him over the edge like this?
"You can't remember? Then, think about this. What day is two weeks from now?"
Two weeks. December 21st.
Melinda’s breath caught in her throat. That was the date on which Savannah and she had been adopted. Two weeks after...
"That's right. You remember now. After all, you were adopted for a reason. Today is the sixth anniversary of Sarah's death."