- The story is primarily narrated by the protagonist.
- Words in italics represent the protagonist's thoughts. However, if it's surrounded by parentheses, it's a narration from a third-person omniscient narrator. I know, a bit confusing, sorry, but I thought I could capture a lot more if I did this.
12 Years Earlier
Rough, strong hands grabbed my shoulders from behind.
"No!" I cried out, flailing my arms in a useless frenzy. Tears defiled my face as they endlessly streamed from my eyes.
This is it. It's over. I can't believe it.
My mother let out a piercing shriek several feet behind me. I immediately turned my head over my shoulder. She was surrounded by two men, one of which had his fingers entrenched in her beautiful long black hair. The monster tugged at her locks in an attempt to drag her across the room and into another. She didn't budge. Her fragile hands were locked around his forearm, nails dug deep into his skin; both feet were pressed against the carpeted floor with her toes desperately trying to cling onto any bit of fiber.
It was the second man who was standing before her. He wasted no time at all before slamming his oversized knuckles into my mother's solar plexus.
"MOM!" I cried out in disbelief.
My mother's body hunched forward as all air was knocked straight out of her. Her figure reminded me of a popped balloon--one moment, she was full of life, and the next, her limbs seemingly collapsed into her frame as she lost all strength. The two men exchanged smirks before hauling my mother's dead weight into her bedroom and locking the door behind them.
What are they going to do to her?
In a daring attempt to break free, I clamped my teeth down upon my capturer's right hand which remained firmly planted upon my shoulder.
"Gah!" The man let out a brief yelp and drew the bitten hand back. His left hand, as if compensating for the strength released from its counterpart, strengthened its hold upon my left shoulder. I let out a painful scream.
"You little shit!"
He swung his free fist straight into my face. The full power of a grown man was just too much for a 13-year-old boy. My hearing gave out and my vision blurred as my body spun towards the ground.
My body hit the floor. My eyes were still wide with disbelief, and through the blurriness I recognized the outline of a figure before me. It was my father, his body parallel to mine and his eyes staring directly into my soul. A puddle of blood had formed around his corpse and the stench of death enveloped my senses before I subsequently blacked out.
Yet, through the darkness, my mother's resumed screams echoed loud and clear.
To be continued...
If I get positive feedback, I'll continue the story. If not, well, we'll just deem this a failure and move on with our lives.
If I do decide to continue the story, I have a question. What would you, TL, rather have? A fictional or fantasy story based on this premise? Let's vote!
Poll: Fiction or Fantasy?
7 total votes
7 total votes
Your vote: Fiction or Fantasy?
Thanks to any and all feedback.