Chapter Four
Coren: Age Ten
Coren: Age Ten
“Coren, just go to bed!” mother raises her voice. She isn’t happy. Father glares at me. Father always glares at me. Why is that?
I see the marks from my teeth on Father’s arm. The Enemy says he deserves it. I don’t know though. The Enemy doesn’t always give me good-intentioned instructions. That’s why I call it the Enemy, but I always listen to the Enemy. The Enemy understands me. Father only glares at me, and mother only yells.
I don’t move. I don’t want to go to bed, and I don’t want father to tuck me in. I know he doesn’t like me. I don’t like him.
“No. I’m not going. Not with him,” I say. The Enemy makes my voice sound scary. I don’t like it.
Mother’s eyes get wide. Father is surprised. My voice startles them. I don’t understand their surprise; this is not the first time my voice has gone scary. Mother steps back. Father stands in front of her with his hands held out, like he’s warding off an evil curse. I realize that I am the evil curse. Father doesn’t like me. Mother likes me sometimes though, but now she looks afraid. I don’t like it when she’s afraid.
Coren... Coren... Coren... Go to sleep now Coren... Sleep... Dream...
The sing-song voice of the Enemy lulls my mind to sleep. Something is wrong, but I cannot stay awake. I give in to the Enemy’s demands. I begin to dream.
The dream starts out with a knife. I’m holding the knife. It’s a steak knife I’ve taken off the kitchen table. Mother and Father are in front of me, trying to shield each other.
“Coren, sweetie, put the knife down. Coren, just put it down, honey, okay?” mother says cautiously. I want to listen to her, but my hands are glued around the knife. I don’t like this dream. I want it to end.
“Coren. Put. Down. The. Knife. Now!” father commands. Even though father is yelling at me, I still want to listen, but the world of dreams won’t let me.
I step towards my parents, holding the knife in front of me, pointing it at them. Mother steps back, but father holds his ground. “Coren, I know you're frustrated with a lot of things. And, I know you have questions, but this will not help you get the answers. Just put down the knife, and we'll talk about it, okay?” father’s voice is kind. This alarms me. Father is never kind, not even in my dreams. I want more than ever to throw the knife on the tiled floor, but it won’t leave my hands. I try to tell my parents that I can’t drop the knife, but the words won’t come out. This dream is very strange. Why won’t it end?
I am silent as I make my advance. Soon my parents’ backs are against the kitchen wall. They have no escape. Suddenly, I lunge. My parents do not expect this. Mother screams as I pierce father’s heart. I am thankful that this is only a dream.
Blood. Blood is everywhere. Out of all the wounds I’ve caused, no one has ever died before. Father is going to die. I can feel it. I’m standing in a pool of his blood.
Mother doesn’t move. She’s horrified. I’m horrified. I realize that this is no longer just a dream when I look at my dead father’s hollow face. This is a nightmare.
Just as unexpectedly as the first lunge, I spring forward and stab mother’s heart as well. She sinks to floor next to father, gasping for air. Their blood mixes and mingles. Soon, they are both dead. I have killed them. Only in a dream, of course, but I have killed them all the same.
I don’t think normal children have dreams about killing their parents, but no one has ever described me as normal before, so maybe that’s why. Still, this has been a horrific dream.
Finally, I wake up. I’m face first on the kitchen floor, some type of thick liquid soaking my face.
The truth hits me like a train. I start running.
