When I was young, my mom spoke a lot. She was strong with her words, but not hurtful. One day, she stopped using them, said:
"I don't need them anymore."
She was never really my mom again. And she never got better. Only worse. She pushed us like hell. She didn't scream anymore, only gave a glare that made you think she would kill you. And then...
She finally did. My dad was the first to go.
THUD. Crash. I twisted around wondering what in the world that noise could be. Too afraid for my footsteps to be heard, I slid down the banister. The china is broken. My mom's eyes are glossed over and they have a wild and crazy look to them. She holds a bloodied knife that was in my dad's throat a moment ago.
So this is my first story and I need criticism. I really want to know what to improve on, so please tell me! I hope you liked the first chapter, and let me know if you want me to continue with this idea. I also know that this was kind of short, but it felt like a good place to end this first one. The chapters will get longer, so don't worry!