I wonder what it would feel like.
Slitting your parents' throat. Murdering them with a kitchen knife.
I would probably break down.
I probably already did break down.
Ah. It's my favourite song. It's playing again. Mom, Dad, do you hear it?
It's fine if you can't, you can continue sleeping, it's a Sunday, right?
Mom, look at you, did you forget to wipe your mouth again? It's all red and it's coming out.
Ah. Some of it is on me. That's not a good thing, right? I should go wash it and put it in the laundry.
Mom, it's already noon. I finished my homework. Is lunch done yet? Wake up. Wake up. What? You can't move because your legs are in the bathtub? Should I go take it for you?
I wonder how I'll explain this to other people. The bathroom's all red, even though I told the decorator I liked purple more. Hm, whatever, it's not like my friends are allowed to visit.
Ah... Mom? Dad? Are you okay? Can you talk? What happened? Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. Even if your arms aren't there you can still move, right? Mom? Dad? Hey, say something. I have school tomorrow, right? Dad, I...I want you to drive me to school, is that alright? Mom? I want...I want to eat pancakes for breakfast tomorrow, is that fine for you? Hey, hey, say something, please?
I'm sorry.
I'm really sorry.
How did it come to this?
I...I don't know.
...........................I wonder what it would feel like.
To stab yourself.
Watch the guts spill out and all.
I'd probably cry, a lot.
......Why do I hear myself screaming?
Eh? Why is there blood on the floor?
Is it mine?
Why am I the only one screaming?
I...I wonder what it would feel like.
To die.
*Disclaimer* *Warning* : This is a work of pure fiction. Blame it on my lack of interests aside from reading, sleeping and watching TV.
Author's Note: I haven't written like this before, especially on a...special subject like this. Monologues in someone's mind, do they play out like this? I'm trying to grasp the idea of a monologue, pardon me.
Slitting your parents' throat. Murdering them with a kitchen knife.
I would probably break down.
I probably already did break down.
Ah. It's my favourite song. It's playing again. Mom, Dad, do you hear it?
It's fine if you can't, you can continue sleeping, it's a Sunday, right?
Mom, look at you, did you forget to wipe your mouth again? It's all red and it's coming out.
Ah. Some of it is on me. That's not a good thing, right? I should go wash it and put it in the laundry.
Mom, it's already noon. I finished my homework. Is lunch done yet? Wake up. Wake up. What? You can't move because your legs are in the bathtub? Should I go take it for you?
I wonder how I'll explain this to other people. The bathroom's all red, even though I told the decorator I liked purple more. Hm, whatever, it's not like my friends are allowed to visit.
Ah... Mom? Dad? Are you okay? Can you talk? What happened? Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. Even if your arms aren't there you can still move, right? Mom? Dad? Hey, say something. I have school tomorrow, right? Dad, I...I want you to drive me to school, is that alright? Mom? I want...I want to eat pancakes for breakfast tomorrow, is that fine for you? Hey, hey, say something, please?
I'm sorry.
I'm really sorry.
How did it come to this?
I...I don't know.
...........................I wonder what it would feel like.
To stab yourself.
Watch the guts spill out and all.
I'd probably cry, a lot.
......Why do I hear myself screaming?
Eh? Why is there blood on the floor?
Is it mine?
Why am I the only one screaming?
I...I wonder what it would feel like.
To die.
*Disclaimer* *Warning* : This is a work of pure fiction. Blame it on my lack of interests aside from reading, sleeping and watching TV.
Author's Note: I haven't written like this before, especially on a...special subject like this. Monologues in someone's mind, do they play out like this? I'm trying to grasp the idea of a monologue, pardon me.
