I really don´t know how to start this of, it´ll just start in the middle, sorry.
I grabbed the kitchen knife from the sink pointed it at the woman standing on the other side of the table. She shrieked and took a step backwards as I held it straight with both hands.
Jane gasped “Alex…!” she whispered between her teeth and I heard she was about to cry.
I held my breath; the sound of the door opening shut us all up. The husband walked in and, it took a few seconds for him to grasp the situation. He just stood there, looking at us I silence. But the second he understood he straightened and starred at me as if he tried to frighten me.
“Young lady!” he shouted. I didn’t waver. All my earlier fear was gone, I was breathing normaly and everything inside me; stomach and heart, was calm.
“Drop the knife now and I won’t have to call the police!” he ordered me. “What kind of joke is this…?!” the woman hissed.
I swallowed, not because I was scared but because I thought it would be good if they all could hear what I was about to say, Jane too.
“it´s not a joke”
Never shaking, still holding the knife straight pointing at the woman.
“Stop this now!” Jane took a step forward to avert my hands, but the woman acted on instinct and…
Her hand flew up in the air and as the stepped closer to the table; she hit Jane hard right across her face. She fell to the floor with a shocked scream.
Suddenly, my heart rate went straight up. I took two hurried breaths and a step forward. I jumped over the kitchen table, the water from the knife flew as I landed to centimeters from the woman´s face. She opened her mouth, but no sound came from her whitened lips.
Next thing I knew my hands; still holding the handle of the knife, sunk into the woman´s soft stomach. Warm liquid splattered up over my arms and chest. We fell, I forward and she backwards, down on the floor with a loud thump.
Jane screamed! She was the only one who really understood what was going on, what had just happened; what I just had done.
Her husband stood like frozen in the kitchen door, his hand still gripping the door handle.
I rose slowly from the gurgling and twitching body beneath me.
My t-shirt was ruined.
I stood up, breathing heavily, but steady on the foot as I faced the man.
His eyes widened and he stumbled backwards. He was afraid, afraid of me; a sixteen year old, weak and nerdy girl. I changed handling on the knife and then started walking towards him.
“NO! STOP IT!” Jane cried out behind me.
“STOP THIS NOW!”
The man´s flesh was harder to cut. I had to stab him a few times before he stopped fighting. I got tired and almost fell to the ground myself. I left the knife in his body.
Jane was crying loudly in the kitchen.
When I finally came back to her, she hovered over the woman´s cold body, shoving her hands into the wound as if she tried to close it. I walked on shaky legs over to her and held out my hand towards her. She screamed as she saw me and crawled backwards; not being able to stand up.
“NO! Stay away, stay away from me!” she shouted in a hoarse voice. I cached up to her and grabbed her arm to pulled her away, over the floor against the kitchen backdoor. She cried louder as I had to lift her partly of the floor to open the door. Then I continued out in the backyard. She started fighting back. She put her heels into the squishy ground and pulled back. She twisted and turned her harm until I lost my grip around her and she fell down in the raindrop covered grass. I tripped by the loss of her weight and my knees hit the ground hard. A shock of pain went through my body. She started crawling back towards the open door. Mud and tears mixing with her ruined makeup, streaming down her face. I exhaled, hands buried in the grass, blood dripping down my face and upper body. A clear night sky above.
“Jane” I said, my voice calmer than my heart.
Her cries became quiet, hard spasms running through her body and making it hard for her to breath. I stood up and walked over to her. I wrapped my dirty arms around her waist.
“Jane” I whispered into her sweaty neck. She hit me.
Her arm flew up from the ground as she turned around and her fist pinpointed right above my right eye. I didn’t flinch. She started hitting me, clenched fists, over and over until I felt the wounds draw blood.
“I HATE YOU!” she yelled between heavy sobs.
“I… hate you!” I cached her hands in mine.
“Jane” I whispered, my voice almost fading. Was I crying?
She kicked me in the stomach.
“I know!” she shouted. She pushed me of her and stood up.
The ground wavered underneath me and my head hurt, it was hard to breathe.What was up and what was down?
I don’t remember how, but I stood beside her, Jane, holding her hand tightly.
Nothing but streetlights saw us as we ran from the house. Jane ran steadily behind me, she had stopped crying and now she followed down the street, away from what had been safety. We didn’t make a sound as out feet hit the ground; my bare and her heel covered. Only our tired breaths and loud heartbeat.
Don’t let go of my hand.
Blood was turning cold all over my body, my feet and head and stomach hurt. The mild spring air was cold in my overheated body.
We ran until we didn’t recognize the houses around us or the streets beneath out feet.
We never came back.
That morning they found a couple, rotting in their newly renovated house. And their daughter, Jane Hamilton, was never to be seen again.