I’ve always felt a little different from everyone else. I don’t know how or why I feel this way, but I just do and I can’t help myself. It all started when I was seventeen years old, my senior year in high school.
“Can’t you do anything right?” I heard a voice coming from behind my right shoulder. I turned my head around as fast as I possibly could. To my surprise, there was no one there.
I shrugged it off, continuing on with my day, but the same voice bothered me nonstop. You’re just tired. Go home and go to sleep, I thought to myself. The final screech of the school bell rang, signaling the end of the day, and it was finally time to go home and take a nap. The weird voices in my head continued, but I tried my best to ignore them. I really was tired. I needed sleep.
* * *
Ten years later, I still hear the voices. Sometimes they’re nice, and sometimes they’re not.  I’m living alone in a small city in California. I decided one weekend that I would visit my mother and sister in San Diego. I really miss them.
“Hi mom,” I said in a quiet whisper. She stared at me for a brief three minutes as I stared back at her.
“Sweetie, what a wonderful surprise! I haven’t seen you in a while! I thought you forgot about me,” my mother exclaimed as she hugged and kissed me. Usually, I am not a fan of other people invading in my personal space, but my mother smelt like apple pie so I was content for this one time.
I waved to my sister, who was eating a bowl of macaroni and cheese along with a box of goldfish.
I sat at the table my where sister was sitting, and I watched her eat. It was obvious she felt uncomfortable. “Hey,” she said with her mouth full of cheese, “I haven’t seen you in a while.”
“Nope,” I replied.
“I need someone to take me to the mall, and mom won’t let me go without an adult. Will you take me, Please? I’ll buy you a froyo!”
“Sure.” I didn’t have anything better to do and we hadn’t spent time together in a long time. The truth was, I missed her. She was my little sister and I loved her.
When we returned home from the mall, we found that our mother had already fallen asleep and my sister soon followed suit. Texas is two hours behind, and my body was still running on California time, so I was not tired. I decided to turn on the television.
“You’re worthless. Why can’t you do anything right,” said a familiar voice. It was a voice that I have known for a very long time. It was the voice of the man who bullied me all through high school. I turned around to see a tall man wearing a plain gray t-shirt coated with small brown stains. His blue jeans were too long for his legs, rubbing against the sole of his dirt filled shoes. His posture was oddly perfect and I felt myself becoming jealous for I was still slouching.
“I-I’m sorry,” I stuttered as I started to stand up.
The man started to reach into his into his suit and took out a gun. My face suddenly became very warm and I felt my heart starting to beat faster and faster. My hands were shaking almost as fast as the beat of my heart.
“Grab the knife from the kitchen. What are you staring at? Go!” I stared at him for a few seconds before doing what I was told. He was the one with the gun so he had the authority to dictate what I do.
I went into the kitchen to look through the drawers for the knives. Where are the damn knives? Where are those damn knives?
“Faster. Faster! Can’t you do anything right?” he yelled, which didn’t help me go any faster. I finally found the drawer with all the knives and opened it.
I grabbed a random knife with trembling hands, thinking of the many different things he could make me do with it. He gestured his gun toward the stairs and I immediately knew what he wanted me to do. I looked at him with horror, but all I got back was a cold, expressionless face.
He pulled the gun closer to my back and I started towards the stairs. Taking the first step up, I felt like one hundred pounds of weights on my shoulder. I slowly crept up the weary stairs, noting the number of steps left. Step by step I felt the gun going deeper and deeper into my skin.
“Please, please. Stop,” I screamed in agony as I reached the final step. He gestured toward my mother’s bedroom.
The walk to my mother’s bedroom was one that my feet could not handle. The sound of the rose wallpaper becoming undone had me deeply uncomfortable. My heart race continued to increase dramatically, I felt as if my body could collapse at any moment.
I finally creaked open the door to my mother room. It was pitch black, I could hardly see a single thing. I still smelt, however, the apple pie aroma from earlier that day.
“Just do it! What are you waiting for! You idiot,” my high school bully yelled at me. Tears that I had been holding in for the last few minutes could no longer be contained.
--
There was blood all over the knife. My mother laid motionless on the floor, heart no longer beating. I no longer smelt apple pie. The room now smelt like blood.
“What have you done?” my sister came in screeching as her eyes began to water. Her body started to cave towards the floor as if her stomach was in pain.
I shook my head in disbelief, and kept looking at the man who made me do it. I slowly raised my hand to point at the man and said, “I had no choice. He made me. He made me. I didn’t have a choice.”
“Charlie,” my sister announced, her voice cracked as a river of water streamed down her rosy-pink cheeks, “There’s is no one here.”