Cereal Killer Short Story

It started when I was younger. I have always been a little stronger than normal. I figured it was just lucky but discovered later that I was supposed to use the strength. My father and mother were both fighting in the living room. I sat on the couch and watched them go back and forth at each other. I was probably 12 years old. In an instant the argument reached its climax. My father was that my mom grabbing her by the throat. I saw a red. My body moved on complete instinct. My fist met the side of my dad's head with tremendous force. He flew towards the ground only being stopped by the corner of the coffee table. Blood filled the floor giving me new red to focus on when the red I was seeing left me. My mother looked at me wide-eyed. We stood there in shock, her looking at me, me at him. A few moments passed. I said "mom, mom?" Stepping toward her. She flinched at me and I stopped, she was scared. "Mom, why are you scared of me? I'm still me" she responded without hesitation. "I have no son, murderer!" She snatched a pair of scissors that way on the fireplace mantle. She let out a bloodcurdling yell. She ran at me, scissors and hand, with the intention to do harm. In the seconds I had before her scissors met my heart, I decided to stop her. How can I stop her without hurting her. As she reached me, I made my way behind her and put my arm around her neck. The scissors were now on their way to my arm. At the last second I removed my arm from her neck to avoid pesky stab wound. It was too late though, the scissors buried themselves inside my mother's neck. A few moments later she lay dead next to my father, doubling the size of the red pool their bodies swam in. That's when I realized it. Sudden clarity, my calling was to kill, and I plan on being good at what I do.