The nauseating smell of vomit brought back the repressed memories. That night was alive in my mind, more clearly than ever. At this moment, I could do nothing but witness the horror again and again.
A family quietly enjoying their dinner. Hearty conversation and liveliness accompanied by the delicious meal. Then, as it had started, the pleasant scene quickly changed.
The dinner table was messy. The expensive tablecloth was ruined, not a single indicator to show that it was previously white. The spaghetti was ignored, instead everyone's attention was on the madman who started it all. Some were staring with lifeless eyes, some had terrified ones.
Dinner was over for most of the participants, as they were lying face down into their plates, multiple knives stuck into them in various ways. Blood was everywhere. The metallic scent almost covered the delicious aroma of the spaghetti, making the smell of the room nauseating.
And I was there, staring at the horror, not wanting to believe that I was indeed the one behind it all. I had killed my entire family. The next thing I remember is waking up covered in my own vomit and here.
We were all puppets, controlled by invisible strings. And I was the one who had suffered the most. Now, it is time to strike back.
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