#so.bad

but

motivation where have you gone UGH

Walking slowly in the hallways of his home, he stops infront of his parent's room, the door is open and he can see the two of them sleeping. The sound of quite snoring fills his ears and without realizing that he's crying he feels a tear slide down his cheek. Raising his hand slowly to the side of his face he wipes the remains of the tear away and slowly steps into the bedroom. The wooden floor creaks loudly but they remain asleep and Justin continues to make his way to their bedside. 

Now standing next to his mother, he looks down at her - her long brown hair sprawled messily on her pillow. He reaches his hand out and moves some of the hair out of her face and leans down kissing her gently on the forehead. Her soft voice echoes through his mind at that very moment, begging him not to do what he's planning. He was about to reply but he realized that it was merely his imagination that had spoken and his mom was still sound asleep. 

Slowly he made his way over to his dad's side of the bed, his mouth opened slightly and quiet snores were escaping it. He reached down and placed his hand on his dad's arm and slowly turned away and exited the bedroom. Each step he took towards the door caused the floorboards to creak loudly. Almost as if they were trying to get his parents to wake up so they could stop him from doing something so horrible.

Once he was back into the hallway he found himself being pushed by an invisible force - a menacing laugh piercing through his mind. Before he could even think about fighting back to the unseen force he found himself outside, holding a box of matches and a gas can at his feet. Burn the house to the ground, Justin! Your family doesn't give a shit about you. Kill them, kill them when they can't defend themselves. 

Justin shook his head, his throat tightening as he held back the tears that were threatening to spill over. "I can't do that. I WONT DO THAT!" He screamed.

KILL THEM JUSTIN! FUCKING KILL THEM! THEY DON'T LOVE YOU! THEY NEVER HAVE. YOU'RE JUST A WASTE OF SPACE. THEY DON'T GIVE A SHIT ABOUT YOUR PATHETIC SOUL. NOW KILL THEM!

Justin fell to his knees, as his body shook with tears - "No, I- I can't d-do tha-that. I WO-N'T!" he cried, curling up into a ball on the grass. 

As if almost by magic, he found himself holding the match box again, but in the corner of his eye he could see something lying on the ground. Turning slightly he realized that it was himself. A small smirk made it's way onto his lips as he looked back down to the box of matches in his hands. He raised one of his hands up to his face and the smell of gasoline overtook his senses. Glancing over at the gasoline can that was now laying on it's side seemingly empty. 

A quiet swish sound filled his ears as he lit the match and a small flame engulfed the tip of the match. His eyes bored into the yellow flame, watching as it licked the air with it's swift movements. Flicking it in front of him he watched as it landed on the porch steps, the old wood catching fire almost immediately. He let out a shrill laugh and jumped up once before backing away. He continued to laugh as he watched the fire spread. He heard the sound of a the smoke alarm ring through the house and that only made him laugh harder.