45. Illusion

45. Illusion
Blood. That was the first thing Ben noticed. There was so much blood. The next thing, the very thing that brought tears to his eyes, was his little sister’s body lying in the middle of the bloody room. Her small body mutilated, covered in knife wounds as her jaw hung open in a silent scream, her hazel eyes open wide and glassy. The room reeked of blood and death. Ben dropped the bag he was carrying, soda and a couple of candy bars for him and his sister from the convenient store just down the street. The contents spilling from the plastic bag as he ran forward, Ben kneeled next to the body picking it up and cradling to his chest as blood thoroughly coated him.
Tears leaked from his eyes as he held the cooling corpse of his little sister. She was still warm, her blood still wet. Behind him he heard a scream, from his mother. She had arrived home from work. He didn’t know how long he kneeled there cradling the body and sobbing. Her long platinum blonde hair was matted and stained with blood. The next thing he knew her body was pried from his arms by the police and the coroner. Ben was in a daze, his brownish red eyes wide as a police officer led him away from the scene.
Blood, her blood coated his blue shirt, and his blue jeans, staining his pale skin and his snow white hair, turning the blue dyed tips a purple color. The blood covering him made the red in his eyes stand out, if it weren’t for the predicament people could mistake his eyes for an insane killers. He was led away and the police made him hand over his bloody clothes. Changing quickly into similar attire he was led from the house. His father was holding his sobbing mother; his face was twisted in horror and pain. Ben though, was still in shock, walking through it all in a daze.
He was interviewed, fingerprinted and taken through the entire process. Never once breaking from his daze. He had left for the convenient store, a simple five maybe ten minute trip depending on how long it took to check out. He left his sister because she was reading and they all knew not to disrupt her reading for something as simple as going to the store for a soda. Emma, that was her name, loved to read and was always invested in her stories. It was greatly encouraged in the family.
Five minutes he was gone, five minutes was all it took for someone to come in and murder his sweet little sister, to paint the walls with her blood. Ben went home after that; he walked by the closed off room and stopped, looking at the blood that still coated the walls. There was something he never noticed, written in blood on the wall. He was too focused on Emma’s body to notice this, but now he clearly saw it. There was one word, one clue to this basturd killer. Ben clenched his fists, glaring daggers at the word.
“I’ll avenge you Emma. I swear on it.” Ben growled glaring at the word a while longer before turning and stalking to his room.
Blade.
The police were stumped, they couldn’t figure out what Blade meant. Did it mean the weapon used? Was it the name of a new serial killer? If it was a new serial killer then this would be bad seeing as hid first victim was a child. Was this killers target children? Or was he targeting people who were different? You see Emma wasn’t normal looking she had long platinum blonde hair with green hazel eyes. Her skin was a deep tan color due to her love of sunshine. You see, their father was an albino, hence the whitish hair coloring, and they got brown eyes from their mother.
Did that mean her brother would be a target as well? Was this even a serial killer? Or was this someone with a grudge against the family, or the sweet twelve year old herself. It was true she would become a little demanding when absorbed in a book, but not bad enough to make someone angry enough to kill. But who would have a grudge on a family like them? Their mother was a breakfast restaurant manager and their father was a forensics professor. Ben was a normal 16 year old kid, he wasn’t popular but he had friends, he got good grades and all in all was a fairly good kid.
Emma was a little sweetheart; she had many friends and loved so many things. The young girl didn’t have it in her to do wrong. She was loved by the community, and her death struck hard. Blade that was the only clue to the murder. The weapon wasn’t found on the scene, meaning the killer took it with him. The police worked for hours on end, trying to connect the dots, trying to find someone to blame for such a heinous crime.
Ben on the other hand, already had someone in mind. They had a neighbor, just down the street a little ways. His name was Michael, now Michael was a suspicious character. He had long, shaggy brown hair with red tips, true green eyes, and always wore baggy clothes. He was twitchy, the perfect candidate for the murder. So Bed watched him, studied him, learned his habits and tried to pick up on anything that would lead to him stating he had murdered his sister. Ben suspected him ever since he snapped out of the daze, that man had a fascination with his sister and it wouldn’t surprise him if that fascination became an obsession and that obsession drove him to kill her.
So Ben sat in the tree, twirling a strand of blue tipped hair around his finger as he watched Michael. In Ben’s mind his actions just screamed murder, the grip on the tree branch he was on tightened as he thought of this man being the killer. His dad told him that the police had started suspecting Michael as well.
What Ben didn’t know was that the police also suspected him. In fact he was their number one suspect, his alibi was good, but the neighbors saw nobody but Ben going in and out of that house at the time. One neighbor reported seeing Ben walk out with a bag of something and a quote: “Insane killer look in his eyes. They were red!” For weeks nothing came up that could really convict the young man of the murder, in fact nothing came up. And for weeks Ben continued to watch Michael, planning his revenge.
One night, a week and a half after the murder of sweet little Emma, a man hidden by shadows crept toward a house. The man moved to the back door of the house, pulling out a lock picking kit he kneeled down. The man began to pick the lock, his identity hidden in the shadows and the black jacket he wore. After a moment there was a click, signaling that the door was unlocked. The man opened his jacket, revealing a blue shirt as he slipped the lock picking kit inside, drawing a knife before entering, leaving his jacket open.
The man crept through the house, going toward the bedroom where he knew his target would be sleeping. Slightly he opened the door, seeing a man with shaggy brown hair that had red tips, sleeping peacefully. The man with the knife smirked, just as he hoped this would be easy. He moved to the side of the bed, quickly slapping his hand over the sleeping man’s mouth, waking him. True green eyes shot open wide as he tried to yell, but the attackers hand muffled him.
Michael’s eyes widened, seeing the knife in the man’s hands. Instinctively he swung his fist, connecting it with the attackers face. The attacker stumbled back, reaching up and touching his bloodied lip, red eyes pierced the darkness of the hood, anger clear in them. Michael stood up; he was shirtless in only a pair of boxers seeing that was how he slept. He raised his fists, ready to fight off the man in front of him. He blinked, those eyes, he could see the tip of that man’s hair, could it be?
The hooded man ran forward, raising his knife. Before Michael could get farther on the thought, he dodged swinging his fist again. It hit once again, the man stumbling back once more. A feral growled escaped the man’s throat, one that Michael could liken to the growl of a wild animal. The man rushed again, Michael dodging and hitting him again. And so they danced, each trying to hit the other, one with intentions to kill and one with intentions of escaping. Suddenly Michael landed a hard hit, and the hood fell off the other. His true green eyes widened and he froze, seeing the rage filled boy before him.
“You killed her! And now you shall die, for I am Blade!” The man with the knife bellowed before jumping onto the stunned opposite and driving the knife deep into his chest. Blood.

The police pulled up to a house, sirens blaring. They had gotten a call about a break in, the neighbor reported someone breaking into this man’s house and he had a knife. Not wasting anytime the police rushed the house, searching each room before they came across the bedroom. What lay before the uniformed men stunned them. There in the middle of the room lay the owner of the house, his true green eyes wide and lifeless, and his chest mutilated stabbed over 50 times. And there, kneeling next to him was the one man they had planned to take in to questioning the very next morning. Benjamin, brother of the Blade murder victim Emma.
Ben kneeled next to the man, his reddish brown eyes wide, he looked at himself, then the room and finally the body. In his hand was a blood covered knife, his clothes drenched in blood. The thing was, he wasn’t horrified, he was happy he avenged his sister. But he couldn’t remember anything. Suddenly the knife was ripped from his hands and then they were cuffed behind his back, blood coated his face and stained his snowy white hair. Red and blue had a battle, and blue came out on top, or was he really blue? Was he actually red, but only wished to be blue? No Ben was blue, blue was good. That’s what he kept telling himself as he was walked from the house, his head up as he looked around.
It was as if it was in slow motion, his hair bouncing with each step as he was walked down the porch steps. People had gathered, standing in the street with robes and in pajamas. There was a collective gasp and many people whispering to each other as Ben was led to a car. The door was opened and he was placed in side, the officer gently pushing his head to help him in. His father broke through the line, running into the house. He went to the bedroom and gasped at what he saw, on the walls written in blood was Blade and carved into dear Michaels chest was the word Blade. His son, his beloved son was the murderer Blade.
Ben was driven back, taken into custody and set in an interrogation room. He sat in the chair, looking at the police chief who stared coldly down at him. Ben blinked up at him, blood still coating him.
“You killed Michael.” The chief stated.
“He killed my sister, he is Blade, he deserved to die.” Ben rebounded as him and the chief stared at each other.
“Ben your wrong.” The chief said.
“What, how could I be? You suspected him, he did it!” Ben yelled in disbelief.
“Ben.” The chief started, was this all an act? “You are Blade, the knife you used to kill Michael was the same knife used to kill Emma. Ben’s eyes widened his shock and he shook his head.
“No, no, no, no, no, no! I couldn’t have killed her!” Ben exclaimed, he opened his mouth to say more but a sudden pain entered his head. He cried out in pain, moving his hands up and clutching it as he closed his eyes. Memories returned.
Ben, he was angry. Emma had asked for him to do her chores once more and to run out and get a soda for her beforehand. He was sick of her doing that, for god sake set the book down and do it yourself! He snapped the red in his eyes become much more defined as he grabbed a knife from the kitchen drawer. Ben walked down the hall, into Emma’s room. She didn’t even glance up when he came in, probably assuming he’d come to grab her plate from earlier. Suddenly he ripped the book from her hands and covered her mouth, plunging the knife deep into her chest. Blood, so much blood spurted from the wound. Her eyes were wide as she tried to scream, he continued to stab her, even after the light in her hazel eyes dulled and her breathing stopped.
He wrote on the walls, spreading her blood everywhere as he smirked at the body. Ben turned, leaving the room he stripped of his bloody clothes, putting them in a bag and getting a new pair of clothes on. He washed the blood from his skin before taking the bag and walking out the door, the knife safely hidden away. He dumped the bag in the store dumpster, suddenly snapping from his murderous state.
Ben removed his hands from his head, horror taking over his body as he opened his eyes and they widened. I looked up, shaking hard as he stared at the chief with wide brownish red eyes.
“I-I-I killed her.” He whispered, looking down at his hands. “I killed her!” He wailed, the chief motioned something and Ben was lifted up, taken away. Benjamin was Blade; he killed his own sister, not Michael. Michael was innocent the entire time. It seemed that red and blue did have a battle that night, only the colors misidentified. One would have thought Michael was red and Benjamin blue, but in truth Benjamin was red and Michael was blue. Benjamin’s innocence was all fake.
His innocence was, in fact, an illusion.