My blonde hair swayed back and forth as I walked home from school. My bus had been pulled over for speeding, so it couldn't make it in time to pick everyone up. I'm currently in 12th, grade, i'm 17, and my name is Kisa Tylu Monroe. I always pondered on why my first and middle name were so...uncommon, my mom said she'd always loved that name. I don't know why though. There was a girl she went to college with, I think her name was Kisa, but it was spelled K-E-S-A. I sighed, maybe I should stop talking to my self. It's getting old.
As I neared my house, I could smell the smoke from a fire. The neighbors had just gotten a new fireplace
outside, plus, it was late December. Stopping, I pulled the house key from my pocket and unlocked the door. It was cold outside, but once I was inside I could feel the blast of warm air from the heater. My mom wasn't home, so I didn't have to start on homework right away. I trudged upstairs, looking at the pictures along the wall. There was my ninth grade fall picture, taken about 3 months ago. It looked like a mugshot, I was frowning, and my eyes had a dull look in them. I hate pictures, I think they're annoying. I threw my heavy book bag on my bed, a few pencils falling out as it hit. I was a teenager, a smart, snarky, and sarcastic teenager. At least that's what all my teachers think, but, I do good in school.
This day couldn't get worse. The bus driver was late, it was raining, and my feet hurt. I mumbled to myself, "Maybe I should take the shortcut..." I took a sharp right, some trees ahead. My house was right behind a small, dense forest, so it would be easy to cut through the forest and get there faster. As I walked, the trees sheltered me from the rain and kept me warmer, but the wind still chilled me to the bone. I trembled as I heard a deep and menacing growl behind me, but as I slowly turned around, a blur of silver jumped out of nowhere. All I remembered were the piercing red eyes, and whispering.
"Have a Nice Nightmare."
I woke up on my bed, but my head throbbed, and my left shoulder hurt like hell. I tried not to cry as the pain increased, but the tears came out like a waterfall. I soon heard footsteps frantically racing up the stairs. "Kisa what's wrong? Are you crying?" My mom asked, worry and concern on her face. "M-my shoulder." I sobbed out quietly. She raced over, pulling down my shirt to look at the wound. "Sweetie, nothing is there. Did you break a bone? I'll go get you some painkillers." I didn't look up, but I could tell she thought I was faking it because of how her voice sounded. I looked at my shoulder, it was true, nothing was there, but why did it hurt so badly?
It's been a few months, about three. My mom ended up taking me to the hospital, but they couldn't find anything wrong with me, so they just prescribed a painkiller. It's gotten better, but I still have moments of pain every once in a while when I exercise in Gym at school. But, my mom and I have noticed my eatings habits and cravings have gotten a little...weird? I'll scoff down pizza and steak like it's nothing, and I could eat all day and still be hungry. My personality has changed too, my friends said I've gotten a little aggressive when playing sports, and I make some sarcastic comments a lot more than usual. I hadn't even noticed.
I looked in the mirror, I saw a girl with bags under her eyes, her hair sticking up in places, and her mascara running down her face as she cried. I haven't slept in days, I couldn't because of the nightmares I had. I'm paranoid, always looking behind me, not wanting to talk to anybody, not wanting to leave my room. I swear I heard a voice talking to me, it was telling me to hurt my mom, to kill her. I cried into my jacket sleeve, the light blue color almost hurting my eyes.
The voice became more clear over a few more days, telling me the same thing over and over again. I finally couldn't take it. I snapped, my vision became blurred, and I couldn't control myself.
It all happened in a flash, the screams, the blood. Blood was all over me, it stained my light blue jacket, my black pants, and my light blue sneakers. I had killed her, my mom, I regretted it, but I just wanted the voice to stop yelling at me. I don't know why my hair turned silver, or my eyes red. Why I had silver ears on top of my head and wolf's tail right below my spine, I don't know. But, I do know this, when I looked in the bloodied mirror, I saw a monster.
I ran off into the forest shortly after that, all I could hear was the roaring of cars and police sirens. I broke down, crying my eyes out in the middle of the forest. Why would I kill someone? Why would I even attempt to? And why did it have to be her?
It's been about a year, I think. I've resorted to sneaking into people's houses, eating their food, maybe even taking a shower. Sometimes i'll find a newspaper lying around, and sometimes on the fourth page there will be a paragraph about me and my twelfth grade photo along with it. They think I'm responsible for my mom's death, which I am. One day when I was looking at a newspaper in someones house, they came home and tried to shoot me with a glock. I didn't fight back though, I would never hurt anyone intentionally. But, the voice in my mind tells me to, every once in a while it will get mad, saying i'm nothing but a killer, a thief, a criminal.