Post by synn on Dec 18, 2023 23:33:17 GMT -5
OOC: I thought the deadline was the 20th I'm Sorry!
Christmas dinner was always a nightmare. The room filled with laughter and joy, but underneath the facade, there was a seething swell of hostility. It was as if everyone was trying to outdo each other with their passive-aggressive comments and condescending smirks. I could feel their eyes on me, judging every move I made, every word I spoke. They were conspiring against me, I was sure of it. They wanted to keep me down, to diminish my hopes and dreams. But I wasn't going to let them win.
As the evening unfolded, I sat at the dinner table, listening to their orchestrated laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the high-pitched hum of conversation. My fingers drummed against the table, a nervous tic that revealed my mounting tension. My gaze darted from one family member to the other, searching for any sign of collusion. They all seemed so innocent on the surface, but I knew better.
With each passing minute, the pressure mounted, and I felt like I was suffocating in their presence. I needed to devise a plan, to eliminate them from the table, one by one. But I had to be careful; I couldn't afford to raise suspicion. That's when I noticed my cousin excusing herself from the table, her red dress swishing elegantly as she made her way to the restroom. I seized the opportunity.
As my cousin disappeared from view, I followed her with slow, deliberate steps. The tiled floor echoed with each footfall, masking my approach. When I reached the restroom, I pushed the door open with a soft creak. The sound of rushing water filled the air as my cousin stood at the sink, her back to me.
Without a word, I lunged forward, my hands wrapping around her throat. Her eyes widened in shock and fear as she struggled against my grip, gurgling and gasping for air. The only sound in the room was the desperate, frenzied thrashing of her limbs against mine.
It was over quickly. I released her lifeless body and slumped against the wall, trying to catch my breath. The rush of adrenaline coursed through my veins, leaving me dizzy and exhilarated. As I straightened, I glanced at her reflection in the mirror. A sinister smile curled my lips; she wouldn't be conspiring against me anymore.
With my cousin eliminated, I returned to the dinner table, my heart still pounding with the thrill of my actions. The joviality had dimmed, replaced by a palpable tension. My family members exchanged nervous glances, their forced smiles betraying their unease. They were on edge, and I reveled in it.
The nigh was still young, and there were many more to deal with. I bided my time, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike again. As the clock chimed, my sister made her way to the backyard, her laughter trailing behind her. This was my chance.
The backyard was shrouded in darkness, the only illumination coming from the dim glow of the porch light. My sister stood at the edge of the yard, gazing up at the stars. Just like I had planned. I moved silently, my steps muffled by the soft crunch of grass underfoot. When I was close enough, I pounced.
My hand clamped over my sister's mouth, stifling her surprised scream. She thrashed and kicked against me, her muffled cries filling the night. But it was futile. With a swift, decisive movement, I snapped her neck. The crack echoed in the silent air, and then all was still.
I dragged her lifeless body to a secluded spot, hidden from prying eyes. The only sound was my heavy, labored breaths as I wiped the blood from my hands. With each passing moment, I felt the weight of my actions pressing down on me, but I pushed the guilt aside. They were conspiring against me, and I had to survive.
The night grew darker, and the remaining family members became increasingly subdued, their forced conversation a feeble attempt to mask their fear. Their laughter sounded strained, their smiles brittle. They knew something was wrong, and I reveled in their discomfort.
Back at the dinner table, the tension was palpable, the air thick with unease. My remaining family members exchanged nervous glances, their forced smiles betraying their mounting terror. I knew they were starting to suspect something, but it didn't matter. I was in control now.
As the evening progressed, I bided my time, waiting for the perfect opportunity to eliminate the next threat. The house was shrouded in an eerie silence, broken only by the occasional clang of cutlery and whispered conversations. My heart raced in anticipation, and I couldn't deny the rush of power that surged through me. I was the puppet master, pulling the strings, orchestrating their demise.
I excused myself from the table, the tension palpable as I made my way to the kitchen. The soft glow of the overhead light illuminated the room, casting long shadows across the floor. I grabbed a knife and held it in my hand, feeling the weight of it, the cold steel against my skin. I was ready.
As I made my way back to the dining room, my eyes searched for the next target. My gaze settled on my aunt, her eyes darting around nervously as she fidgeted in her seat. This was it. I approached her from behind, the creak of the floorboards masked by the soft murmur of conversation.
She turned to face me, her eyes widening in surprise as I plunged the knife into her chest. The sickening squelch of flesh and bone filled the air, her scream muffled by the sudden rush of blood. I pushed the blade in deeper, the sound of her labored breathing the only thing I could focus on. Her struggles grew weaker, her body slumping against mine, until all was still.
As I stood there, drenched in blood, I couldn't deny the rush that surged through me. The room was hushed, the air heavy with the scent of copper and fear. I reveled in their terror, in their realization that I was in control. They couldn't stop me; they were helpless against my will.
The night wore on, and the remaining family members huddled together, their forced conversation a feeble attempt to mask their mounting dread. But I could see through their facade, their eyes darting around nervously, their smiles strained. They were starting to understand that I was a force to be reckoned with, that I would not be stopped.
With each passing moment, I felt a surge of power, a sense of exhilaration that pushed aside the guilt and fear. They were all against me, all conspiring to keep me down, and I couldn't afford to show weakness. I had to be ruthless, to eliminate every threat until I was the last one standing.
The night dragged on, the tension thick in the air, and I knew that I had to act quickly. My remaining family members were growing increasingly desperate, their eyes darting around the room, searching for an escape. But they were trapped, and I held all the cards.
I stood there for a moment, struggling to compose myself, to push aside the guilt and fear that threatened to overwhelm me. I had to continue. They were all against me, and I would not rest until they were all gone.
TPW is my new family, and Christmas has never been a good holiday for my family.
Christmas dinner was always a nightmare. The room filled with laughter and joy, but underneath the facade, there was a seething swell of hostility. It was as if everyone was trying to outdo each other with their passive-aggressive comments and condescending smirks. I could feel their eyes on me, judging every move I made, every word I spoke. They were conspiring against me, I was sure of it. They wanted to keep me down, to diminish my hopes and dreams. But I wasn't going to let them win.
As the evening unfolded, I sat at the dinner table, listening to their orchestrated laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the high-pitched hum of conversation. My fingers drummed against the table, a nervous tic that revealed my mounting tension. My gaze darted from one family member to the other, searching for any sign of collusion. They all seemed so innocent on the surface, but I knew better.
With each passing minute, the pressure mounted, and I felt like I was suffocating in their presence. I needed to devise a plan, to eliminate them from the table, one by one. But I had to be careful; I couldn't afford to raise suspicion. That's when I noticed my cousin excusing herself from the table, her red dress swishing elegantly as she made her way to the restroom. I seized the opportunity.
As my cousin disappeared from view, I followed her with slow, deliberate steps. The tiled floor echoed with each footfall, masking my approach. When I reached the restroom, I pushed the door open with a soft creak. The sound of rushing water filled the air as my cousin stood at the sink, her back to me.
Without a word, I lunged forward, my hands wrapping around her throat. Her eyes widened in shock and fear as she struggled against my grip, gurgling and gasping for air. The only sound in the room was the desperate, frenzied thrashing of her limbs against mine.
It was over quickly. I released her lifeless body and slumped against the wall, trying to catch my breath. The rush of adrenaline coursed through my veins, leaving me dizzy and exhilarated. As I straightened, I glanced at her reflection in the mirror. A sinister smile curled my lips; she wouldn't be conspiring against me anymore.
With my cousin eliminated, I returned to the dinner table, my heart still pounding with the thrill of my actions. The joviality had dimmed, replaced by a palpable tension. My family members exchanged nervous glances, their forced smiles betraying their unease. They were on edge, and I reveled in it.
The nigh was still young, and there were many more to deal with. I bided my time, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike again. As the clock chimed, my sister made her way to the backyard, her laughter trailing behind her. This was my chance.
The backyard was shrouded in darkness, the only illumination coming from the dim glow of the porch light. My sister stood at the edge of the yard, gazing up at the stars. Just like I had planned. I moved silently, my steps muffled by the soft crunch of grass underfoot. When I was close enough, I pounced.
My hand clamped over my sister's mouth, stifling her surprised scream. She thrashed and kicked against me, her muffled cries filling the night. But it was futile. With a swift, decisive movement, I snapped her neck. The crack echoed in the silent air, and then all was still.
I dragged her lifeless body to a secluded spot, hidden from prying eyes. The only sound was my heavy, labored breaths as I wiped the blood from my hands. With each passing moment, I felt the weight of my actions pressing down on me, but I pushed the guilt aside. They were conspiring against me, and I had to survive.
The night grew darker, and the remaining family members became increasingly subdued, their forced conversation a feeble attempt to mask their fear. Their laughter sounded strained, their smiles brittle. They knew something was wrong, and I reveled in their discomfort.
Back at the dinner table, the tension was palpable, the air thick with unease. My remaining family members exchanged nervous glances, their forced smiles betraying their mounting terror. I knew they were starting to suspect something, but it didn't matter. I was in control now.
As the evening progressed, I bided my time, waiting for the perfect opportunity to eliminate the next threat. The house was shrouded in an eerie silence, broken only by the occasional clang of cutlery and whispered conversations. My heart raced in anticipation, and I couldn't deny the rush of power that surged through me. I was the puppet master, pulling the strings, orchestrating their demise.
I excused myself from the table, the tension palpable as I made my way to the kitchen. The soft glow of the overhead light illuminated the room, casting long shadows across the floor. I grabbed a knife and held it in my hand, feeling the weight of it, the cold steel against my skin. I was ready.
As I made my way back to the dining room, my eyes searched for the next target. My gaze settled on my aunt, her eyes darting around nervously as she fidgeted in her seat. This was it. I approached her from behind, the creak of the floorboards masked by the soft murmur of conversation.
She turned to face me, her eyes widening in surprise as I plunged the knife into her chest. The sickening squelch of flesh and bone filled the air, her scream muffled by the sudden rush of blood. I pushed the blade in deeper, the sound of her labored breathing the only thing I could focus on. Her struggles grew weaker, her body slumping against mine, until all was still.
As I stood there, drenched in blood, I couldn't deny the rush that surged through me. The room was hushed, the air heavy with the scent of copper and fear. I reveled in their terror, in their realization that I was in control. They couldn't stop me; they were helpless against my will.
The night wore on, and the remaining family members huddled together, their forced conversation a feeble attempt to mask their mounting dread. But I could see through their facade, their eyes darting around nervously, their smiles strained. They were starting to understand that I was a force to be reckoned with, that I would not be stopped.
With each passing moment, I felt a surge of power, a sense of exhilaration that pushed aside the guilt and fear. They were all against me, all conspiring to keep me down, and I couldn't afford to show weakness. I had to be ruthless, to eliminate every threat until I was the last one standing.
The night dragged on, the tension thick in the air, and I knew that I had to act quickly. My remaining family members were growing increasingly desperate, their eyes darting around the room, searching for an escape. But they were trapped, and I held all the cards.
I stood there for a moment, struggling to compose myself, to push aside the guilt and fear that threatened to overwhelm me. I had to continue. They were all against me, and I would not rest until they were all gone.
TPW is my new family, and Christmas has never been a good holiday for my family.
