A Good Night's Sleep

I woke up to sun shining through my blinds accompanied by the smell of bacon wavering in through the kitchen. I got out of bed, and was accompanied by a floating sensation I’ve never felt before.
“Good morning, ma,” I said.
No response. She stood at the sink, merrily humming while washing the silverware.
“Dad? Good morning?”
No response. He sat at the table, reading the newspaper with a cup of joe, with an occasional interruption of repositioning his glasses. He had a look of satisfaction on his face.
I felt like something was wrong. Why were they giving me the silent treatment?
My dad said something. “You finally did it, huh?”
I had no clue what he was talking about, and I thought it was directed towards me. My mom replied, “You know what they say. Simplify, simplify.”
This phrase sent a chill down my spine, and the realization hit me. My ma would say this every time she threw away something she considered an ‘annoyance’. I had a very vague feeling, almost like a natural reaction that I knew what they were talking about, but I didn’t believe it. I ran up to my room and over to my bed.
The sheets were covered with blood; the pillows were no better, and one had a hole in it. I sprinted back downstairs in time to see my ma putting her chef’s knife away.