I sat in the living room with my older brother waiting for my parents to come in and bring us to yet another boring interview.

Every time we go there I want to scream and tell people the truth, but the pain I feel afterwards is stronger than my principles.

As my parents walk in the door I notice the blood stains on their clothes and the new riches and jewellery rapped around there greedy, petty selves.

They like to think that they have everyone fooled.

That everyone is too busy in their own world to notice what is happening behind all those closed doors.

But I’m not as oblivious or naive as everyone else.

I get suspicious when we earn millions of dollars all of a sudden or how huge mafia bosses all of a sudden die without warning or trace. I also notice when my parents show up a little later each night that an accident occurs.

It doesn’t take much to connect the dots.

Blood stained clothes, sudden riches and unexplained murders.

We have always been a family that comes from money. We have always been some what rich and more popular in wealth than most families (or cities). But the amount of expensive things we buy, the number of coins that are wasted on useless junk a week does not add up to the amount of profit we earn unless we get an additional billion every once in a while.

When my father caught onto me figuring out their little scheme, a cruel punishment was put in place so that no one else would find out.

A small nudge would have been fine but no…

A small shock, no…

Something that makes the blood vessels in my head pop, something that mimics getting stabbed, yes…

… When my parents walk into the room to bring my brother and I to the interview, I eyeball the bloodstains on my fathers white buttoned up shirt.

I don’t know how it works but a sudden feeling of pain shoots through my chest and I look down in shock and put my hands over it for pressure, expecting blood, when I realise it wasn’t real.

I look over at my father now eyeballing me with a smug grin on my face, he doesn’t even need to say anything I could already tell he was saying “That was a warning.”

I stand up and carry my ballgown off of the ground and walk my way towards the door after my brother and before my father.

I waited for the vehicle to emerge in our driveway.

Once the white limo arrived I got in and my father slammed the door. I looked out the window with the most bitchiest face staring at the man I once called my dad.

He glared back at me and within an instant my face turned to the most happiest and child like smile ever.

I can’t control it…