Déjà vu

Stumbling back, I fall then scoot several feet away from the redhead’s inert body. Questions tumble through my mind: Whose car is this … and who’s that guy in the trunk? Or is there a guy in the trunk?

Lifeless faces of my father and six other men flash in front of my eyes. The voices in my head start again. Then, as if I'm looking at a movie screen, the blur in my mind sharpens, and I watch myself struggle to lift dead weight into the trunks of different colored sedans. The vision changes; it's like someone pressed the fast forward button, and I'm driving, driving, driving until the sedans run out of gas or break down alongside the road. Each time I'm stranded, my father appears and each time I rake the knife across his throat.

Am I insane?

The moment that question becomes a thought, a shaft of light flashes behind my eyes. Stark fear grips me, but I force myself to get the keys from the redhead’s lifeless hand and open the trunk.

I don’t recognize the man inside.

My father’s laughter rings in my ear as he repeats his question about my intelligence. "You bastard,” I scream. “How many times do I have to kill you before you stay dead?"





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This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)