Jenna had had enough, or so she told herself. Every morning she woke up to the sound of her sibling's cry for food accompanied by the yelling of her father, telling the 'bitch' who popped them out to do something about them before he cracked their skulls open and sold their organs for what they were worth.

It was a threat she had heard countless times; others would see it as an empty threat but not her, just because he never made good on it didn't mean he wouldn't when the grenade holding him in place finally popped off and sent him through a downward spiral.

The musty smell of her room repulsed her but still had a sense of familiarity to it, she had grown up smelling it, and now it became part of her daily routine to scrunch her nose in disgust and spray the room with a heavy of dose of perfume, just so she wouldn't be disgusted enough to throw up what she managed for dinner the previous night.

She swung her feet over the bed lightly, an attempt to not trample on the sleeping bodies of her siblings on the floor of her room. She tiptoed around them, knowing fully well that if one were to wake up the rest would as well and it would be just as loud and annoying as the living room currently was.

The irritation and bitterness that had been coursing through her body, sinking into her bones and very being like poison had finally gotten to her head, manifesting all the thoughts of violence that she had kept dormant and hidden. Jenna couldn't think straight again, she grabbed the sledgehammer she had stashed under her wardrobe and staggered at the weight of it.

"So, we're finally doing it today huh?" the voice in her head asked.

Jenna nodded her head and used her last reserve of energy to drag the sledgehammer out of her room with her, she walked down the hallway covered in mold and oppression with steady feet and her three friends, the voice in her head, her shadow, and the ever-present feeling of depression cheering her on.

Her shadow walked as steadily as she did, a confirmation that it was always there with her and what she did it did.

She stood at the door of the kitchen and watched as her father landed blow after blow on her mother's screaming figure, her mother's arms flailed above her head, a desperate yet pathetic attempt to shield what was left of her face from the continuous and barbaric pounding she was receiving.

Blood oozed out of every opening on her face that it could come out of and Jenna shuddered, chills ran down her spine as she watched the horrific display in front of her.

Her siblings lay on the other side of the room, a bloody pulp. Each one even from a glance showed signs of broken bones, one even had a bone jutting out of its arm. If she had had conflicting thoughts before her mind was now as clear as the blue sky.

She thanked the radio for blasting what people liked to call noise music at that precise moment as she dragged the sledgehammer behind her, she stood behind her father and felt chills run down her spine once more as she heard him laughing with glee as her mother screamed for him to stop, it was the type of laugh you'd hear from an audience in an open mic show where the comedians were delivering the best lines of their lives, yet here it was being displayed at the scene of brutality.

"Swing it now Jenna, no better time than now" the voice repeated.

She could hear the voice in her ears like a whisper, cajoling, convincing, forcing and demanding that she made good on the words she had harbored in her heart.

Jenna had played baseball when she was in high school and she adjusted her stance and raised the sledgehammer over her shoulder.

She took one look to her side and watched as her shadow had the same stance as she did, it felt comforting to know that they would both be ridding themselves of the monster that plagued their lives.

"You filthy, disgusting bastard!" Jenna screamed, it was like a soldiers last cry on the battlefield, her father turned and only had a second to comprehend the enraged and tired figure in front of him. His eyes widened in shock and for a split second Jenna saw her reflection in his eyes and she looked happy.

With a deep breath she swung the sledgehammer, the sound of her father's skull and the sledgehammer connecting was like music to her ears.

"This must be what Beethoven heard when he created his masterpieces!" the voice cheered with laughter, "And here we are just reaching the crescendo!"

Jenna laughed as she watched her father's lifeless figure crumble to the ground, she adjusted her stance once more and swung the hammer again. The sound of it connecting with his skull was like a rush of dopamine.

She could finally understand why her father cackled like a maniac when he caused pain to her mother, the feeling was ethereal.

"Alas, this feeling is the best!" she thought to herself as she wiped blood off her cheek with the back of her hand, "this must be why people do drugs."

Jenna turned and looked at her mother's horrified expression, as she stared with bloody eyes. "Fear not mother, you'll be joining him soon" Jenna cackled as she raised the sledgehammer over her shoulder once more…

~ONE MONTH AGO~

On some days she tried to foster a soft, fuzzy or maybe loving feeling for the siblings her parents burdened her with, but most of the time the sad reality of life had her heart sealed tight and shut that she wasn't even sure the key to unlock it existed anymore.

She took a whiff of her hair and knew instantly that she smelt like the mold in the room and even without looking at the cracked fragments of the mirror her mother had gotten her ten years ago she was sure she perfectly mirrored her problems, an ordeal she was not equipped to deal with and one she cared not to deal with as well.

She grabbed a bucket from a corner of her room that housed a worn-out wallpaper that if you looked long enough, you'd see things moving. She exited her room as quietly as possible, the hallway outside her room perfectly mirrored the world she had grown up knowing defined her, poverty.

It was more stained with mold and smelt even worse than her bedroom, which was a major reason why she spent most of her time either outside the house or in her room.

She looked down the hallway towards her mother's room and there lay a crying four-year-old who was so covered in dirt and grime that she grimaced when eye contact was made.

She didn't know its name and didn't care to, she stopped bothering herself after the eight one her mother popped out, this one stared at her for a second before continuing to cry with so much vigor that it made her wonder where it got the energy to cry with the meager amount of food it received.

She took one more look at the crying child as its wails were reaching its epiphany, realization getting to her that this one must be high on the magic mushrooms her father grew at the backyard. Poor thing, it came out as a crack baby and now it's a victim to its surroundings.

She turned, unwilling to dwell on its sorrows as her own sorrows were deep enough to swallow her if she ever took her eyes off it, which was a situation she worked very hard on avoiding.

There was once a door leading to the kitchen but after her father slammed her mother into it when she was 13, the door no longer existed and no one bothered to replace it.

The kitchen didn't smell like a kitchen, Jenna knew that much from the time she worked in the kitchen in a restaurant. That was the only example she had for what a kitchen might look like, she had never been to a friend's house since her friends never got past the finding out her father was a drug dealer part.

"About time your lazy ass got out of bed" a voice greeted her as she approached the old and worn-out door that led to the backyard.

Jenna stopped in her tracks for a second as she had a mental conversation where the outcome tipped in the favor of feigning ignorance, it was a ritual at this point, her ignoring the elephant in the room and pretending like the problem didn't exist just so she could go about her day.

She continued to walk and had almost reached the door when a ceramic bowl hit the back of her head and hot oats spilled down her back, the oats making her already sweat drenched tank top stick closer to her skin.