My Ending to Lamb to the Slaughter

Topics: Mother, Nightmare, Father Pages: 5 (1915 words) Published: November 25, 2012
Lamb to the Slaughter’s Ending
It’s the same nightmare that haunts me every day. I wrapped bed sheet around my fragile frame covering my body, which is drenched with cold drops of sweat. I crawled to the darkest corner in my bedroom trembling of fear as I sank in the darkness. The voices never leave my side; they echo in my head like a drum whether I am awake or asleep. The moon light was tickling my eyes. I felt like an empty shell as I sat there on the freezing-cold ground while my high body temperature was emerging with the coldness of the ground. I leaned my bare back against the cold wall. I closed my eyes, lifted my chin up, and covered my ears very tightly. “ You must find the truth “ the voice said.

It’s the same voice in my nightmare. Even though I don’t remember it when I wake up, but I have this feeling bottled inside of me that I have been having the same nightmare over and over every day, and that this voice haunting me is the same voice in my nightmare. I heard the creaking sound of the door opening as I saw my mother, the only person I have left, appearing like a shinning angel reaching out her hand for me in the darkness. She took her steps towards me as her soft brunette hair brushed my face, and her wide crystal emerald green eyes were glued to me. “Another nightmare?” she looked worried.

“ I just feel that there is something I am missing in this world,” I continued, “ That there is something I must discover to put these nightmares and voices to sleep”. “ You have a big day tomorrow , so go back to sleep,” she threw me one of her fake smiles. My name is Jessica Patrick. I got my ghostly-while skin from my father. I mean I totally look like Casper and his ghost buddies! I have a shiny golden hair that falls, beneath my shoulders into a tassel of soft curls. My eyes are lovely midnight blue and around my pupil, I have a silver lining around both of them on my eyes. I am twenty-five years old. My father was murdered before I was even born, but they never find out the murderer; as a result, the case was closed. I only saw my father’s face through pictures, but Mom never really talked about him. I only heard about him from our neighbors. They said that my father was a fine man. He loved my mother a lot, and he was really looking forward to my birth, looking forward to see the face of his very first child. I also heard that he was a police officer, and that he was very serious and passionate toward his work. The wrinkles that filled his face in a young age indeed was just a proof of that. He never skipped work, but he also made sure that his wife doesn’t have to look at the clock for too long. Everyone used to love him because of his consoling, yet serious personality. He just used to be the centre of the attention in his work, but they said he changed before he was killed. He was acting really strange as if something was bothering him. Everyone is saying that I look, act, and even think just like him. Today, is an important today in my life because today I will finally graduate from college and can work as a detective. I want to find the one who killed my father. I know that twenty-five years have passed since then, and the possibility of actually finding the murderer is almost impossible. I am sure I can do it though. I barely stood up as I was trying to steady my balance. I stand on my trembling legs wondering how is it that I can keep standing up with my legs shaking like this. I follow the same footsteps I walk on everyday to go to the bathroom. As I was washing my face, I felt hot air on my back. I turned around to see blood covering every inch of the room. I could barely see any color other than red. “ The nightmare has begun. Your life shall be mine. PE PRAPERED! YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE COME HERE TODAY. Your time is running out,” was written by blood. I had no idea what did that mean. It wasn’t good news for sure. I started stepping backward as slowly and as soundlessly as possible until...
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