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Posted: Jul 28 2006, 03:51 AM
Princess of Highland
Member No.: 71
Joined: 26-October 05
The evening had been a rather dull and drab one for Eric Silvstedt. After venting his frustrations on the punching bag hanging up in his room, he'd proceeded to shower away the blood that soaked his form from his earlier brawl with Matthias Kovalenko. Laundry never was Eric's strong suit, so he'd simply left the blood-stained white wifebeater he'd been wearing in the dirty clothes hamper to be washed. His mom wouldn't care that her son's clothes were covered in the blood of himself and quite possibly another classmate as well. She didn't care about anything.
The rest of the evening had been uneventful. When Mrs. Silvstedt had failed to return home before the evening rolled around, Eric had prepared dinner for himself and the girls. Of course, not being very skilled in the culinary arts, Eric Silvstedt's version of dinner wasn't much to speak of, but food was food. The evening slowly crept away from them, and still there was no sign of Nancy Silvstedt. Eric now turned to look at the bold red numbers eminating from the alarm clock near his bed. Sighing audibly as he viewed the "11:21" enscribed onto the clock's digital face, Eric rolled sideways in his bed, his attention breaking away from the clock's surface.
When his mom still hadn't arrived back at the house by 9:30, he had put both Claire and Kayla to bed. It was late, and they all had school in the morning. And to think, if not for Eric, those girls would still be sitting in the basement by themselves this late at night. Eric once again rolled over in the bed, clinching his fists tightly at the thought. Stupid, worthless, inconsiderate bitch. Sometimes I think we'd be better off without you. Maybe it was true. Most all of the Silvstedt children had learned to raise themselves, as Nancy was never around to do so and was generally even less help when she happened to actually be around. She never did anything. She never thought about anyone. Except herself.
In his unrest, his attention snapped to the television, which just happened to be broadcasting a program that had taken the world by storm with its horror factor. A program known as "Survival of the Fittest". Students from across the globe are kidnapped, given weapons, and forced to kill one another until only one is remaining. Interesting premise, no? The program was currently running through a recap of the events of the previous day for those who might have missed the last program. Eric jumped noticably as a girl known as Angelina Kaige flung open the door of the ruined helicopter, only to get blasted into the forehead by it's occupant.
For a moment, he stared wide-eyed at the mess of blood, bone, and brain matter that had exited through the back of Angelina's skull along with the bullet. As he continued to watch on in a strange mixture of horror and awe, however, exhaustion began to overtake him. Through the chaos and confusion that played across the television screen in his bedroom, Eric Silvstedt only heard dissolved noise as he drifted off into a restless slumber...
Droplets of sweat forced the frizzed-out red curls of Eric's hair onto his forehead as he stalked slowly up the staircase of the house, the creaking of the steps echoing in his mind almost as loud as the heartbeat that continuously thudded in his eardrums. His lips were quivering, his hands were shaking uncontrollably, and he was sweating profusely. The redhead's wide eyes slowly traced down to the gleaming silver object he held in his shaking hands, and he let out a gasp of air as he took one last look at it.
Looking back up toward the door, Eric focused intently on it. His lips continued to tremble as he studied the sturdy wooden structure with an odd intensity. Closing his eyes a moment, he tried to steady his breathing before raising the object in his hands to point at the large door. In one swift movement, Eric raised his foot and slammed it into the door with enough velocity to knock the door from its hinges. His mother, who had been on the other side engaged in sexual acts with Wendell, stopped in her tracks, mouth agape.
They were the only two words Eric Silvstedt uttered before he pulled the trigger on the loaded shotgun he'd been carrying, sending a spray of bullets into the room. The explosion of gore that followed as the hail of ammunition penetrated the bodies of his mother and Wendell, sending them collapsing onto the flood in a dull thud, was nothing less than spectacular in Eric's eyes, and he watched on with glee as his mother and the criminal of a man that she called a boyfriend breathed their final breaths before seeping from existence.
All of a sudden Eric was in the hallway of Franklyn Senior School, the deadly shotgun with which he had murdered his mother still clinched tightly in his grasp, so tight his knuckles were starting to turn white. At once, he was running, the sound of his footsteps once again echoing throughout the hallway. A figure appeared in the hallway, and Eric grinned as he raised the shotgun with a malicious intent. The figure standing in front of him, one of his classmates by the name of Danielle Tysl, could only look on in horror as the trigger of the shotgun was once again pulled and her bullet-ridden corpse fell to the ground.
Eric didn't stop, nor did he ever look back. Instead, he kept on running, the shotgun he wielded being held at chest level. Another figure appeared, and Eric once again smiled to himself. It was that cheerleader bitch, the blonde one he'd hit on at Andy's party that had turned him down. The girl Ricky liked. Yeah, Whitney! That girl. Once again raising the shotgun, he started to fire, but out of nowhere jumped the figure of Ricky Callahan. Eric no longer cared, however, and the trigger of the shotgun was once again pulled, sending the two to their dooms.
Pausing a moment over the fallen form of the man he once called his best friend, Eric couldn't help but look a little disgusted. The fool had sacrificed himself and died for a lost cause. Spitting on the ground next to him, the redhead simply shrugged his shoulders. What concern was it to him now? Fool.
The redheaded boy once again continued to stalk down the hallway, though this time at a much slower pace. A figure could be seen in the distance, and became more and more recognisable as Eric approached him from behind. The crazed smile once again returned to his face in full force as he realized that the boy who stood facing away from him was none other than Matthias Kovalenko. He'd been wanting to do this for a long, long time.
"Hey. Hey pansy-fuck!"
As the dark-headed boy turned around, Eric shoved the barrel of the shotgun directly into Matthias's face and pulled the trigger. Once, twice, a third time. Over and over again the hail of burst fire exploded from the end of the shotgun, taking Matthias's head along with it. Blood, bone, and brain matter splattered the floor, the lockers, and Eric, but Eric didn't care. He just kept firing and kept firing, all the while laughing with glee at the act that he had just committed. He couldn't bring himself to stop, and the sound of gunshots continued to echo over and over and over again.
Eric sprung up from his sprawled out position on his bed, his eyes wide in terror and a cold sweat running down his shirtless form. The heavy breathing, almost panting noise that had been forcing itself from his lips gradually slowed back to a steady and normal pace, but Eric remained horrified at the disturbing dream he'd had. His mother was a bad person, yes, and he hated her at times, but to ever bring himself to shoot his own mother? The woman who brought him into this world? It was incomprehensible. And his classmates... the entire scenario had left a chilling effect on the boy, and as he lay back down in the bed, he couldn't help but notice that he was visibly trembling at the deranged and psychotic dream that had just run the course of his mind.
What the fuck's wrong with me?