Gage wasn’t sure how long he sat there. The unflickering chemical light in the white room enhanced the blood stains covering the area. Again and again he looked down at his red hands, at the pool of blood in front of him and then at the trail of blood to the door, accented with tiny red foot prints of his sister’s shoe.
His mind churned, reliving the final moments over and over in his mind. The practice had all but faded except for his final thrust. The image of the broken, normally innocuous dull blade slicing into his father’s throat caused his stomach to heave again.
Then the scream, a scream like he had never heard before, the soul wrenching scream of a girl seeing her father about to die right before her eyes. A scream repeated over and over as Gage held his father, blood pouring out of his neck, mouth and nose; between his fingers. A wail of horror as they slumped to the ground, his father gasping, gurgling, unable to get any air and choking on the blood. Gage was paralyzed as his father’s eyes turned glassy and he felt his body slump beneath him.
Then he remembered a terrible, eerie moment of silence.
“Daddy?” Leese wailed.
“DADDY?!” she screamed once more and then the room exploded into activity.
Gage had no idea who had arrived, he was quickly knocked aside. They laid his father on his back for just a moment and then, assessing the situation, decided not to wait and picked him up and ran out of the room.
But Gage knew it was too late, he knew the world was about to change. He knew he had just killed his father.
He couldn’t stand, and just kept staring at the blood on his hands, on his cloths, on the floor. The blood he spilled, the blood of his father.