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The crisp winter air slammed upon the small of your back through the window you had cracked open last night. The air helped calm your mind when it was racing, and helped drown out your parents talking about you through the thin walls of your house. They always did. A disgusting transvestite— you hated when they called you that. It made you feel like a parasite. A parasitic infection slowly poisoning your own family.
Before tonight, you never used a gun. Bought one from that shady kid at your school, but never used it. He was a nice kid sometimes, he offered you cigarettes and a drive home on particularly hard days and didn’t care much about your gender. You needed the kindness in your life, so you managed to befriend him. It was a good thing because it meant you had discounts on his shop. No matter what, he never got busted for selling, which you were grateful for because you wouldn’t know what to do if he were gone. The one person that accepted you. You put the gun in your closet, and you originally bought it to put against your head whenever you felt like you needed an easy exit. It was hidden in the darkness, meant to be a secret. But, that day, it wasn’t. It was freedom encased in a tiny bullet in a chamber that could release at your own will.
You felt caged that night. Bile rose in your throat as you stared at the man who created the horrific monster you are today. You remembered his hands— everywhere, everywhere, everywhere. Touching you, groping you. Telling you that you were the perfect little princess prey, how pretty it was when you tried to fight back. You promised to yourself from that day forward, you’d never be anyones prey again. You’d learn to fight, to be strong, to shoot to kill. He was the man that taught you to bite.
Today, he was here. Unafraid to make eye contact, he even laughed at you. At your expense of being afraid to speak up. You never told anyone. Not even your friends. You tried to tell your parents and they brushed you off, saying that you had to stand your ground which really meant they didn’t care less. You wanted nothing more than to crack his poor skull open and watch his brain spill out. Maybe you’d use the gun. Pop the safety off and load it against his poor skull. Who's the pretty prey now, bastard? You could feel something akin to excitement crawl it’s way into your gut, proudly making itself a new home.
Something violent clawed at you, starting from that excitement. It tore at your chest, your lungs, your skin, your stomach. It burned horribly, like gasoline mixed with a lit flame. It built up in you slowly, every little mocking gesture and shove fueling your fire. Until that fire led you to the gun, and where you are now, pulling out your old tape recorder and setting it down on the stairs pointing straight to the living room, where he was.
The glitchy camera caught you walking down the steps, gun in your back pocket. The weight alone made you feel like you were flying. You were excited for this horror film to end. Your heart slammed against your chest. Each step felt like punishment, death, then rebirth. After this, you could start anew. Scrape your deadname from existence. Hide yourself entirely, not just your gender. You could hide your crime. Start as a new man. Never be known the way your family knew you ever again. It tasted like freedom.
Freedom came with a price, of course. The price of their lives. You’d take their money. You’d live alone. Somewhere in a forest, away from people. You’d hunt for food, cook it over a slow fire. It’d be nice. You never wanted to be alone, but loneliness felt like safety, and you’ll be damned if you’re anyone’s prey ever again. You didn’t need anyone anyway. You needed the fresh air, and that’s what freedom was, wasn’t it?
The last step felt like triumph, it felt like taking the safety off your gun and firing a warning shot to your prey, because it was better when they fought, wasn’t it?
You shot for the legs first, pulling the ground out from under him. Nothing ever felt more good than stealing a rich mans power, power built off of suffering. Busted all their damn kneecaps. He fell first, and you lunged.
You had enough bullets left to shoot out his eyes and blow his brain from the back of his mouth, and enough to do a single shot through your fathers head and your mothers.
You caressed the gun over the fuckers lips. “Listen here, prickhead..” You whispered, a grin gracing your face. It was crooked and horrifying, but it never relented. It stayed there like a permanent scar etched into your face. You registered the noises of him crying and screaming under you, and you realized you should hurry this job up. Fuck, I should’ve packed a bag so I could get out of here on time, You thought distantly. You worried at your bottom lip with your teeth for a second, before focusing on the task at hand. “you listen to me now. I’m gonna blow your goddamn brains out, and boil your insides up after. And I will enjoy every fucking second. Just sit back and enjoy it. Got it, prey? Hah! Why do I even care asking you? YOU NEVER FUCKING ASKED ME.” You shouted, grinding the gun harder against his lips. You finally pried the gun into his mouth, pointed it up, and pulled the trigger.
His brain scattered across the floor, landing in a squishy lump next to your parents. Blood splattered across your pants and onto your face. You licked the blood off of your cheek and looked up to your parents. Horrified, they huddled together. They made their peace with god quietly, or so you hoped. You loved them, but they never loved you, and this was the price for never listening to you.
You picked the gun out from his mouth and shot his eyes through his skull. Quickly, you raced to your parents and pulled the trigger releasing the bullet that was stuck in the camber hurtling out at their heads. They were gone as soon as it happened. Racing back up the stairs, you giggled at the camera. Picking it up and grabbing a bag that was hidden in the depths of your closet, you shoved a charger, your savings, and other electronics into it. You packed a few clothes in which you tossed quickly into said bag. Your room had a window, which was on the second floor, looking out to a dense woodlands. You decided your best bet of escaping was to make it look like a kidnapping, so you could quietly go missing. Those woodlands would have to do for the night, but the next morning you’d be on the run again. You shot out the window, glass breaking. You put the gun into your pocket, and grabbed your bag. Putting it on, you hopped out of the window and bolted for the forest. You could hear sirens approaching, and you got out of there just in time.
Once you reached a desolate place in the forest, you climbed up into a tree, dropping your bag at the base. You still had your gun. You wanted to keep it just incase anyone tried to turn you into their prey. You’d hunt them instead. It’d be a game. You spent the night in that tree, dozing off to the sound of birds and other wood life around you.
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[CASSETTE 01 END]
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