Ficly

Death

“What are you doing Cain?” I cry.
“Doing what I should have done fifteen years ago.”
He takes out a sword, sharp as steel and bright as the sun. Over he walks to the door.
“Follow me if you want, but it will not be good.”
I run after him, scared what he will do. I can smell the scent of blood, but resist the temptation to Feed.
“You can’t go into mothers room! You know that!”
He ignores me, and continues on through the door. He stops at mothers side, looking down at her beautiful face, calm and asleep.
“Dear, dear Angelina. I hope that one day you may forgive me.”
He raises his sword, and brings it down swiftly over my mothers neck.
“No!!”

View this story's 1 comments.