Why won’t it stop? I just want it all to stop.
A whimper left my throat as the sound continued to resonate around my head, it had been like this for hours. Constant yelling and screaming, thuds and crashes, the usual routine of sounds repeated over the course of two days before things would go silent for another week, their anger towards each other rebuilding over the week until one of them steps ever so slightly out of line.
It had to have been a record for them though, they usually began around early evening however tonight they’d made it until late night at about ten pm.
Usually I’d use music to try and cover the sound, my hands would cover my ears to distort the sound further as I danced around my room clumsily. I didn’t care what moves I made as long as I focused on the muffled music to take my mind off of things.
However tonight had been different.
I’d stood in the darkened hallway and watched their silhouettes in the light that rested on the floor from the open doorway of the living room, their movements threatening towards each other. Pacing back and forth, pointing as they spat violent insults and accusations at one another.
There was at least one respectable thing about them, despite me being an adult they tried to keep their arguments concealed from me and would stick to the boundaries of that single room to hold their disagreements, as if that room was sound proof to the rest of the world.
I never understood why they didn’t at least close the door, obstruct the doorway to keep the noise behind the wood. Instead they let the light from the room pool out into the hallway as their voices bounced along the bare walls.
Memories continued to flash violently in my head, I tried to stop it with all my might but it seemed impossible.
Lifting my gaze I looked towards the doorway from the corner of the hallway I sat in, I took in the sight of the bloody trail of footprints that had been left. The blood already congealing against the wooden floor, the sticky substance causing my feet to tack against the floor every time I moved my legs.
A limp, feminine hand now rested in the doorway where the footprints started. Blood dripped from the fingertips and created a pool underneath the palm of her hand.
I remember how she’d tried to block the open wound with that hand, trying to stem the flow of blood.
The look of surprise she’d given me as the knife sunk into her like it would through the softest butter flashed into my mind, her eyes shone with betrayal as she stared into my eyes, questioning why her own daughter had turned on her so violently.
Her mouth hung open unattractively, but the shouting still hadn’t stopped.
Her husband had tried to help her, running to help cover the wound with his own hand. He turned an evil glare towards me and began screaming abuse at me, making the shouting even louder. My eyes stared at him blankly until the pieces of the puzzle fit into place, realization hitting me hard.
It was him; he was the cause of my torment.
The knife had been plunged into his back, how many times I couldn’t remember but it was enough to make him slump over the woman’s body. His blood seeped out onto the floor and coated my feet. Once all movement had seized from the body I’d stepped over him to make my way back to my room, I hadn’t gotten far before a tight grasp caught onto my ankle, which I fiercely yanked away and proceeded further into the darkness without looking back to stare at the pleading face I knew was being pulled.
I had barely made it three steps away when the sound of shouting, crashing and stomping made its way into my ears again.
It hadn’t stopped, why hadn’t it stopped?
I found myself frozen to the spot until I could find the courage to turn towards the living room.
No movement met me as my eyes stared into the room where the two figures lay motionless, cuddling up to each other even in death.
The noises only seemed to grow louder despite the room being still.
I’d sat in the corner hoping that eventually the noise would fade away, my gaze glued to the hand in the doorway, just waiting for the slightest twitch of life.
The weapon lay next to my left foot, the blood coating the weapon was proof enough of what I’d done. Proof that the source of the noise was disposed of.
So why was the yelling still continuing?
I pulled my knees up to my chest and put my head on top of them, covering my ears tightly to block it all out, but it wouldn’t stop.
I’ve been sat like this for hours and silence has still evaded me.
I’ll just continue sitting here in the darkness, rocking side to side with my ears blocked until it all goes away.
Maybe I can block the persistent noise with my own voice.