The Siren's Twisted Call

It was dark and the air was comfortably chilly, it was that time of year that I enjoyed so much. What a night to finally get my revenge. I stood in the very middle of the street. Staring at this house, this perfectly simple house. Two stories with Victorian windows and blue shutters. The flowers were well tended and taken care of, all purples and blues. There was a child's bicycle in the front and a flag that read welcome near the mail box. Truth be told it is a house anyone would dream of. Work for, want. Maybe I would have this kind of house one day if I were someone else. I crept through the backdoor of this beautiful house. Not mine of course but it didn't matter to me that I was breaking the law. Probably would to the residents, but I was completely confident that I wouldn't wake them up. This house was the exact replica of all the other houses on this suburbian block. White picket fence, two car garage, complete with live,laugh,love stuck to the dining room walls. I knew the people in this house loved their fake pretend life. The perfect family, the perfect house, the perfect secret as well. I was the perfect secret to this perfectly disgusting people. No, I'm not a long lost daughter or illegitimate crotch goblin from the oh-so-perfect man of the house. I'm their victim. I know this house better then they do probably having lived here as a slave, maid, servant, and torture recipient. I also knew every single thing that they spoke in the past five years. Including every wretch they spoke too. Every single maid, lawn care attendant, and handy man. Each one tortured and mistreated to some extent. That is what I witnessed. From year 20 to year 25. For five years I watched it all Every.Single.Thing. I'm not their favorite by any means. But I knew all their dirty thoughts. Including what they thought of me, why they kept me as a servant, and the reason that torturing me brought them joy. There was no reason. Nothing special about me. Nothing different. No jealousy. Just fear that I would one day ascend and tear them to pieces. I am just me, and they hate me. My only concern is will their deaths be perfect like they think they are. You could say I'm livid with hate and rage. But in reality I'm only filled with a twinge of excitement. I'm going to kill these people right here in just the amount of time it takes to cross the stairs to the second story. I, of course, brought many weapons and was excited to use them. I sharpened them all day yesterday, cleaning and shining them to perfection. Making my weapons perfect for the perfect death. I could not wait.The tiny bit of excitement growing as I neared their room. There were four people in this house. Like any other perfect family. One son who was sickly sweet in front of anyone that wasn't me. The son who was the absolute best of the best in anything but secretly a pervert and a scum sucking bottom feeder at home. The respectable wife who drank from the moment she woke up till the moment she finally passed out anywhere wearing anything, with anyone. Then the man of the house domineering and expecting respect but had an inferiority complex with just about anyone. Coveting this type of family was out of my league. I knew I was not perfect. I was not special. I would not force this fakeness into my life and every family on this block was exactly the same. Aside from the fact that I'm the only and last siren to exist there wasn't nothing that stood out about me. Funny, I should have been with the perfect family in a picket fence and two point five children. I refused to pretend I wasn't what I was. Obviously I would have to be apart of the supernatural community. Probably picking a mate out of any of the lower ranking species as to not draw attention. Keeping it to myself pretending I'm a half breed who can't shift or some stupid excuse. Never singing, never having music within me. As torturous as that would be, it wouldn't stand up to the torture I've received by these perfect people. Keeping my existence a secret was not happening. It was the only thing that kept me sane. Being a siren was the best part of my life. It was also the reason I was tortured and abused my entire life. I never blamed my songs though. I never hated what I was or how I was. These perfect people sleeping in their perfect house did though. I stood in front of their smokey greyish blue door and lingered down memory road to the first day I met these fake people...... I was twenty years old today, but it was not a celebration of any kind. I was given a cardboard box and told to clean out my room. It was quite comical to even call it a room. It was one hundred percent a closet. not even big enough for a mattress of any kind. I enjoyed my sanctuary though. It was the only place I could go and sing. My only actual nourishment in my life. Sirens did not need to eat. They only needed their music. Thankfully this family only beat me when I was out of the sanctuary. Although they didn't expect me to clean up for them like my last family or anything, they still seemed to hate the fact that I breathed and were prone to violence upon seeing my face. My master at the time made it very clear I was to pack my things and wait outside for the new family to pick me up. It was the same exact thing five years ago when I came to this family. Maybe this new family would be as nice as this one but my hopes were crushed when I waited outside on the rough stone of the steps until late in the evening. Then this blue vehicle pulled into the drive in a rush and then honked their horn drawing way too much attention to themselves. The man got out and strode straight to me. He looked at me with a mixture of hate and distrust. Then grabbed my cardboard almost empty box and just walked back to the car and beeped the horn again. That was my introduction. No name exchange, no words, nothing I did not even know where we were going. Of course this was not my first time. Sense I switched houses within the supernatural community every five years, I counted down the days until I turned twenty five. That would be when I was free and could go back to my homeland. Which is what I wished for more than anything else. So, I stared at the man's bedroom door. Knowing that this would be the night of his last breathe. The last night of his perfection. I chose to do this. There was no going back. If I turned back now when they woke they would have sensed I was there and been able to track me down. That was not going to happen. Over my dead body would they catch me again. So the choice was only one, kill this family; one of the five families that spent five years making my already lonely and miserable life even more so. So this choice was not necessary but I know deep down I will enjoy every perfect second. I didn't have to kill them. I thought to myself that I could have chose differently, and be different. But this is the choice I am making. I will wake up everyday to make this choice, stalking, choosing, killing. Not because I hate them but mostly because I never want this to happen to anyone else. They deserve this and it will happen. It had to. I touched the knob, grasped it lightly and gently as to never make a sound, I took a breath and stepped over the threshold to begin my revenge. Thinking this is perfect.