Dead at 15

My breath hitched in my throat as I watched her laughing manically. There was no doubt about it now. It was her…or her and Dad. I could feel myself shaking – with fear or was it adrenaline? It was most likely a combination of the two. I gulped and tried to breathe normally as Linda continued her psycho moment.

“So it was you? I’ve been right this whole time,” I started. Linda snapped her eyes up to meet mine, and cocked an eyebrow. “Well, who else could it have been? You had the access, you have a car, and Dad would’ve been able to cover everything up. He was in the freaking FBI, and his best friend’s on the force. He could’ve gotten all the cyanide pills. You were both in on it! You got Dad to try and snoop around me; you acted like you hated each other all for the sake of throwing me off the trail. It’s disgusting, killing your own children? On their birthdays too, every fucking year? How could you?!” I continued, my voice climbing in volume each sentence.

Linda glared at me.
“How could I? How could I?” She spat. “I’m the one who’s been scared for my life this whole time. He,” she jabbed her thumb at Dad, “convinced me that if we put up with all of this, we could just move to Italy or somewhere afterward and we’d be able to live the rest of our lives out in luxury!”
“So it was just Dad then, was it?” Linda rolled her eyes and huffed.
“Timothy, can you come in here please?” She called. We all turned around to see Timmy walk into the room, clad in FBI gear – and a bulletproof vest.

“What the fuck is going on here?!” I yelled. I looked at Tommy, who was next to me, his mouth slightly agape.
“I went to the FBI at the end of last year, after November’s murder. You can only imagine my surprise when I bumped into Timothy there. I’d had enough of being scared out of my mind. Mark had cleared up all the evidence – well fingerprints and weapons. I couldn’t take any proof in but I talked to Timothy about it, he talked with I don’t know, someone higher up and then he volunteered to go undercover at the ice-cream place you go to. I wanted you under any surveillance I could get-” I cut her off there.

“Why couldn’t you just go for the murderer if you knew who it was?” I asked.
“Because we’d need evidence – for you to confess,” Timmy said.
“What?” I snapped. “Confess?”
“Yes.”
“You think I did this? What the fuck? You’re all crazy!”

“Linda…” I heard my father growl. Finally someone who wasn’t mental! “How could you do this?! I told you I had it all under control! Why’d you have to go blabbing to the damn FBI? She was going to kill herself, we’d sell the house, and move and it’d all work out for us. That’s not going to happen if we’re in prison!”
“What? Did you just say I’d kill myself?” Dad turned to me.
“Yes. December, you’re the one. You murdered your sisters. They’re telling the truth.”
“No. No, no, no, I did not kill them!” I grabbed Tommy by the shoulders. “Tommy! You tell them that I didn’t do it!”
“Timmy…?” Tommy asked. I dropped my arms as Timmy nodded at his brother.
“No! I didn’t do it!” I cried in desperation. “Why won’t anyone believe me?! You’re framing me! I was only three when January died. She was hit by a car!”
“I was really hoping she would’ve talked to you by now,” Mark said with a sigh.
“Who? Who the hell is this ‘she’?”
“We called her Winter.”

***

I watched on as our father chiseled at the name and date on the headstone. Our mother held us in her arms, sobbing and running her hand through the minimal amount of black hair on our head.
“Mark, we shouldn’t do this. It’s not right,” Linda croaked.
“The girls don’t need to know about this. We didn’t tell them about her in the first place. Let’s just leave it. She’s in a better place now,” he replied.
“Oh, I…”
“Let’s just go home love.” It wasn’t nice, choosing to forget apart of us, just for them…

***

I watched as the adults discussed our issues, as if I didn’t understand. Our mother was lying of course – she had to lie. I’d murdered two people. Our mother’s grip tightened on me, as if to say that I wasn’t going anywhere.
“Is it possible for her to be a completely different child?” Mom asked.
“I have not dealt with a case of Dissociative Identity Disorder in someone so young before. However, I would not say that it was impossible. You understand what the disorder is?”
“Yes, very clearly.”
“And you are quite convinced of December having multiple personalities?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, is there anything that would have influenced this?”
“Uh…well her eldest sister passed away a few months ago.”
“Oh, I am sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“Well, that may have triggered it. What has the base personality been like?”
“Base personality? Well, I guess a regular, happy three year old!”
“It is alright Mrs Lambert, calm down.”
“Sorry.”
“Now, this second personality…” Our mother looked down at me.
“Go on,” Mom prodded. Smart lady, she knew when I took over. Mark didn’t, unless I spoke to him. Idiot.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I said, smiling sweetly. The psychologist leaned back in her chair.
“The pleasure is mine. My name is Dr. Lewis. What is yours?”
“They called me Winter. Winter Antonia Lambert, that was on my tombstone before they chiseled it out.” Dr Lewis turned to my mother, her eyes narrowed.
“Can you please explain this? A tombstone?”
“I-I…December was actually a twin. Winter died. They were going to give me a C-section because I’d had so many children already, but December was already coming so I told them no. We got December out but there were complications with Winter-”
“It’s okay Mrs Lambert. Please, calm down.”
“Sorry.”

“A twin you say?”
“Yes. Identical.”
“Well, I really do not know what to make of all of this. This is most unusual.”
“I know,” Mom whispered.
“Multiple Personality Disorder or rather Dissociative Identity Disorder, has not been seriously studied – well there has not been a whole lot of research collected. Testing on December would need to be carried out us to know exactly what we are dealing with, but is there another personality?”
“Pardon?”
“Generally there are two personalities besides the base personality.”
“I really don’t know about another personality.”
“It may not have surfaced yet. Winter,” Dr. Lewis turned to me, leaning forward, “where did you learn to talk the way you do?”
“I listen.”
“Why?”
“Cember is a child, I keep her safe when I need to because December is still growing, and she makes mistakes. I can handle it.”
“You’re the protector then. From what?”
“Lies.”

***

I groaned and clutched my head as it pounded.
“December?” My eyes met Tommy’s concerned blue ones. “Are you alright?”
“Headache,” I replied.
“What do you remember?” Linda asked and I scowled. She knew everything.
“I had a fucking twin and you didn’t tell me?!” I screamed.
“What did she show you?!” Linda yelled in response, eyes wide.
“Him,” I jerked my head in the direction of Dad, “chiseling the grave.”
“That young?” Linda whispered, tears streaming down her face.
“How old was I?”
“Nine weeks.” She then turned to Dad. “This is all your fault, Mark! If you had left the damn headstone alone, like I wanted, told the girls, none of this would’ve happened! Our daughter wouldn’t be a nutcase!”
“Nutcase? She’s the smartest of all of them!” Mark protested.
“She killed over twenty people!”
“Twenty?!” I shrieked.
“You hired Damian, along with your father. As far as I’m concerned, the blood is on your hands. Oh you also killed July’s friend, and the drunk man who you got to hit January in his car.”

“Wait! This is ridiculous. I was, how old? Three? How is this all fucking possible?! Someone needs to explain this to me because I have no clue.” Linda sighed and turned to Dad.
“Seeing as you’re so proud, you tell her,” she spat.
“I’m the only one who knows everything anyway. You never wanted to,” he retorted.
“Well, be my guest.” He rolled his eyes.

“December, the first thing you need to understand is that you have Multiple Personality Disorder or Dissociative Identity Disorder,” he began. I nodded slowly, remembering the ‘vision’ from earlier or whatever, the ‘memory’. “You are not the base personality.”
“Mom said I was though, to that Dr Lewis.”
“That was a long time ago. Besides, I’m in regular contact with Winter.”
“The dead twin one of my ‘personalities’ has taken the name of,” I said in a patronizing tone.
“Yes actually.”
“So, she’s the base then?”
“No. Do you remember that you used to refer to yourself as ‘Cember’? In third person?” I shook my head.
“No, it must’ve been a while ago. I don’t remember it.”
“Well you did. And that was your base personality. A regular child.”
“I’m not regular?” I prodded.
“Let me get on with the story and maybe I’ll explain it to you.” I stayed quiet.

“Anyway, Winter says that she first became…aware, that time in the cemetery.”
“Now that’s impossible. Nine weeks old and able to understand what was going on? Enough to develop another identity when I wouldn’t have even been able to stand up?”
“Winter’s a genius!”
“This is ludicrous.”
“Well it’s true, whether you want to believe it or not. As I was saying, something in your brain switched and Winter took over. She didn’t like that the real Winter was being forgotten about intentionally, twins’ bonds are quite fascinating you know, and she especially didn’t like how we were hiding the real Winter’s existence from the girls for the sake of their…uh, bliss in ignorance. She was angry. We didn’t see her again until January’s fifteenth, when I found her beside the body. She didn’t like how January was ‘leaving’ on a ‘family day.’ She didn’t like the abandonment, even if it wasn’t. So, she sealed up Cember to keep her from the ‘bad things’ forever and then you were formed. Winter took over for a few days. You were mostly passed out for the duration, where Winter was…creating you. You were built to withstand any emotional strain that would occur when Winter ‘sent’ all of our girls to the real Winter. You were the safety net. Winter says that you would grow like Cember would have, as a normal person, but not quite.”

I had to sit down, so I sat Indian-style on the floor and waited for my breathing to regulate. My throbbing headache continued to get worse.
“Why did I, I mean Winter, kill them all?” I asked. “February didn’t even leave the house.”
“For January, it was the sense of abandonment. It wasn’t really Winter’s issue. It was Cember’s. Your twin had died, leaving you ‘all’ by yourself.” He chuckled at his little joke. “Birthdays were very family orientated. Cember knew that Jan was leaving, and Winter took over. Winter wanted Jan in a state where she couldn’t leave ever again. She wanted to send her to the real Winter. After Jan, she decided that they all had to go to Winter. She liked the pattern of the fifteenth birthday and that’s how it went.”

I rubbed my temples. My head felt like someone was sawing it open.
“This is so confusing. It’s just completely crazy!”
“Winter is crazy. Well technically you are, but she’s the one who has killed people. Her logic is very warped but she’s clever.”
“She killed the others just because she could. That is not clever.”
“She resented them. She believed that it was partially their fault why the real Winter was forgotten.”
“Well that just makes a shitload of sense.”
“That’s just how it is.”

“How often does she…take over?”
“For the most part, it’s just for short periods of time before and after the deaths. She’s been quite active recently though. Especially in that week you had off school.”
“What? I was sleeping.”
“That’s what you think. She spent a lot of time figuring out how she wanted you to behave. She knew you were snooping around, as you put it, so she’d set up things for you. Your rapid mood swings, you know you have them, headaches, and sore body parts, are all symptoms of the disorder. Plus, you so far have been completely oblivious to Winter’s memories-” I cut off.
“Yeah, can I have a moment? My head is killing me.”

***

Tonight I would be somewhat busy. I reached into our closet and pulled out the painting of May’s. My lip curled when I saw it. It was fascinating how much they all knew without actually knowing. I threw a hoodie over my pajama top and pulled on a pair of Converse. Mark was waiting for me downstairs. Mom was asleep in bed. There was an agreement between us three that we didn’t tell Mom anything she didn’t need to know. This situation disturbed her enough already. She always took it out on December too – often getting worked up over trivial little things. It was the only time she really got to take out her frustration on me, without fearing the consequences.

Mark drove us to Tommy’s house, on the poorer side of town. He was a nice kid, it was good December had found him. He was a good friend for the confused and isolated little girl. Breaking into the house was no trouble for Dad. My vision was pretty good, but the fact that he slept with the door open made it that much easier to find his room in the dark. I slipped the painting under his bed, and then we left.

Before I went back to bed, I started to sharpen a piece of plastic I’d broken off of one of those plastic buckets, with a knife from the kitchen. I slowly managed to give it a point. It had to be sharp. I wouldn’t go to sleep until it was perfect. The piece was shorter than the length of my pinkie finger and fairly flat, but it was strong enough. Once satisfied, I lifted up my left foot, cut an opening in the tough section of skin on the underside of my heel with the knife and created a hole. I then took the piece of sharpened plastic, and inserted it into the cut.

***

I looked under March’s bed with a flashlight and pulled out the shoebox. I took the lid off, careful not to disturb any dust. There were stacks of photos of the dead February and of other scenes, and a letter. I took that out and examined the envelope. It was sealed. I wouldn’t peek then. I sighed and put everything back.

There was a messenger bag tossed next to the nightstand. I remembered Mark hiding it in his jacket when he ran to her body. I opened the bag and pulled out a collection of Polaroid’s. They were of the park; of the day I killed her. I smiled at the thought. December couldn’t find these. Not because they showed anything, but because I wanted to screw with her a little. I wanted an…explosive ending to this all. I pocketed the photos and went back to our room. I grabbed a piece of paper and a pen and carefully printed:A little too late this time aren’t we, December?
I then went back to March’s room and put the paper in the bag, hiding it under the covers of the bed.

***

“And will that be all?” The bookseller asked.
“Yes, thank you,” I replied. She smiled and handed me a plastic bag containing thirteen books and a receipt.
“Have a good day!” She called as I went to leave.
“You too.”

I first took the books to my room and peeled all of the price stickers off of the Lemony Snicket books. Once that was all dealt with, I reached for the twelfth and thirteenth books. I opened ‘the Penultimate Peril’ and flicked through the first few pages, laughing when I noticed the publication date – 2005. July died in 2004. I then flicked to the last page of the book. I wasn’t going to read through the whole series just to find fitting ‘quotes’ even though Mark had given me the week off school. I read down the page before highlighting in yellow, ‘the notorious villain’ and ‘who they may become.’ The first bit was highlighted for obvious reasons. The second was more subtle, and for my amusement – December becoming me. The ‘personality switch.’

I then tossed the book aside and picked up ‘the End.’ I smiled as I read through the last page of that. I’d chosen these books well. I highlighted ‘investigation’ and then ‘certain graves.’ Hopefully she’d go to the cemetery and see the unmarked grave – get interested and find out whom it belonged to. It was rather aggravating. I could just show December my memories but I really did want her to figure it out, test her intelligence. I wanted the drama. I highlighted ‘not the whole story’ to tie in with the ‘certain graves’ things. I then picked up a pen and underlined the second ‘is’ in ‘it is not the whole story, of course, but it is enough,’ with probably more force than entirely necessary.

***

Mark laid a hand on my shoulder as I sat perched on the end of our bed.
“Congratulations,” he said affectionately.Vermin.
“Congratulations?” He chuckled lightly.
“Well, I didn’t think you could handle this one.” I felt my lip twitch.
“I can handle anything.”
“I just thought – I mean, considering how close November was to December you’d-”
“That I’d what? Not go through with it?” I turned to Mark with a purposefully placed sadistic smirk on my face. He inched away fro me. “I don’t think you understand who I am.What I am.”
“I didn’t-”
“It’s obvious that your brain cannot fully comprehend what I am capable of so I would advise you not to assume anything. Now that they’re all gone, anything could happen. The possibilities are endless. I’ve got you right where I want you, like a string wrapped around my little finger. You just never know when I might decide to cut you off.” He gulped and stood up.
“Good night Winter.”
“I always sleep with one eye open Mark, perhaps you should too…”

***

December had gone out to get something to eat. I’d planned to kill November when I came back into the bedroom but when I heard the bathroom door close, I made a few alterations. I waited for her to finish her ‘business’ before entering the bathroom.
“Oh! December! I was just about to go back to the room,” November said with a smile.
“You won’t be going back to the room,” I replied.
“What are you on about?” I stepped closer to her and reached up to her ear.

“I did it. I killed them,” I whispered very carefully and then pulled away. Her eyes were wide and her face had drained of color. Her bottom lip trembled.
“You, n-no, you didn’t,” she stuttered. Her body tensed. Good, she was going into shock. This would make everything a whole lot easier.
“Yes, I did.” I then walked round behind her and reached around to flip her left arm over, pushing up the sleeve to expose the pale skin beneath. My hands were dressed in latex gloves – I wasn’t laving any evidence behind this time. I wanted this to be perfect. Suicides were generally looked into for insurance purposes. I was surprised that they hadn’t checked into us earlier really.

I reached into the pocket of my jeans and pulled out a kitchen knife. November was trembling in front of me. Her legs were quivering so bad that I was surprised she hadn’t collapsed. I could hear her sobbing but she still didn’t show any will to fight me off, as I’d half been expecting. I grabbed her right hand and forced her to grasp the knife. I clasped my hand around hers and directed her to move the blade to the wrist of her left arm, where the veins were visible beneath the surface.

“Oh and before I kill you, you should know that December really didn’t want you to die. She really was trying to keep you safe. I’m not.” I made her hand move further up her arm, then made her apply enough pressure on the blade to break the skin. I didn’t take it deep enough to sever the veins. I didn’t want blood spraying against the mirror or anything. I doubted it would but I had to make sure this was genuine. No wrist cuts…yet. I made her dig the knife in harder and drag it up her arm, keeping her arm as perfecting horizontal as possible before leading her to the bathtub.

I pushed her into it, and she fell on her side. I flipped her round, put the plug in the bathtub and then turned both faucets on, on full. I smiled as she tried holding her cut arm with her other hand, her face contorted with pain. I grabbed her left hand, weak enough as it was, and made her cut the other arm, from the wrist. Blood squirted a little at first but then it just oozed over her skin and over my gloved hands. It was such a pretty color. I dropped her arms in the water that now had risen to cover her legs. I watched her crying, watched her life slipping away. Once she was dead, I took care of my gloves, turned my t-shirt inside out, and put on another pair of black jeans. I went back to the kitchen where I would let December take over.

***

“Didn’t get away quick enough, did you?” I asked as the cell door slammed behind me. It was just before four in the morning. The cop station was empty. Everyone had been called out the previous night for the massacre. Bodies had been identified that morning and now, everyone was too exhausted to keep an eye on the place. It was my first chance to make sure Damian wouldn’t squeal. Mark had gotten keys cut of the cop station when he ‘accidentally’ picked up Jerry’s set one time.

“What the fuck are you doing here? Where are the pigs?!” The man yelled and I smiled.
“It’s just me. The coppers are all tucked up in bed, and I have keys.”
“Keys?”
“I have friends.”
“You are fuckin’ mental. You’re only a little girl. You, you made me kill them. I’m gonna be locked up forever.” I chuckled.
“That’s not my problem. You should’ve run faster. Besides, I only needed one person killed, and they died.”

“You, I’m fucking telling the cops.”
“No. No you’re not.” That’s when I lifted the crowbar in my hand. The lights were out but there was a small window up high, made of bulletproof glass. It provided sufficient light from the moon for me to be able to see what I was doing. “Now, listen up.”
“I don’t have to do shit.” I whacked him in the stomach with the crowbar, winding him.
“Yes, yes you do or I’ll pretend I’m playing baseball – with your head. Understood?” He coughed and I smirked. “Now, you do not speak a word about any of this. Even if I turn up to see you again, you do not say anything about this to me. If you do,I’ll know, and I will kill you. We clearly both know that I am capable of doing that. If I come around in a year or so, asking who put you up to the massacre, you are not to say anything. Do not reveal gender, how many people were involved, names, facial and body features, make of the car we picked you up in, fuck all. Got it?”

“Fuck…you…” he wheezed.
“You really are thick.” I rapped the crowbar under his kneecaps, sending him to the ground, before bringing the metal down hard on his back. I dug the curved end into his side, tearing the fabric of his shirt and some skin. He hissed. I pulled a cheese grater (yes, a cheese grater) out of my backpack and tore his shirt some more. I crushed his fingers with my shoe when he went to grab me and then took the grater and ran it across the exposed skin. He emitted the most unmanly shriek of pain as I grated his skin off and it didn’t take long to draw blood. It was the real stinging kind of pain, the kind that causes the most pain and the most discomfort.

“Now are you going to listen to me, scum?”
“Y-yes, you bitch.” I gave him another whack with the crowbar across the shoulder. “FUCK!”
“Look Damian, all you have to do is not say a word until January of 2010. Then you can change your plea, whatever, but I swear if you pull any shit I will carve out your chest. Agreed?” He whimpered and I gave his side another grate, a hard one. He screamed.
“Okay, okay! Agreed! I won’t talk!”
“I know you won’t. But I’m no where near done with you,” I said and pulled out a needle.

***

“Are you sure you picked the right guy, Winter?” Mark asked.
“I’m sure. October’s not going to run. I told him he had to kill everyone he could. Now…three, two, one.” My lip curled as the first gunshots sounded from the house across the street. “Now, drive.”

***

Following September and the boyfriend had been easy, even dressed in my old lady attire. Once they had veered off to go to the boy’s house, I walked the opposite direction towards the end of the street. September wouldn’t go across the water again without motivation. I was ready to provide that motivation. I didn’t have to wait long for September came into view. I walked a little to meet her. I pulled the shawl over so that it covered my face more.
“I wouldn’t go that way deary if I were you. Some young’uns have been at the drink – fighting and the like,” I said, disguising my voice as best I could.
“Uh, okay, thanks a lot,” she said.

She turned around and began walking hurriedly back to the bridge. I waited a minute before shadowing her. Once I got to the bridge, I could see that she was almost glued to the grass. My lip curled.Just a minute… She took the first step. That was when I leaped forward and pushed her into the rushing water.

***

I surveyed the bar quickly. I needed to create a scene – something that would give me enough cover to deal with August. She was packing up her bass, and her friends were standing close by, laughing. I then noticed a group of burly looking guys. I smirked and walked over to them.
“Hey you!” I half-shouted at what appeared to be the leader. He glared down at me.
“What do you want twerp?” He bellowed.
“See that guy over there?” I pointed at August’s friend, Toby. “He called you a fucking fat ass fuck-face.” I watched as his beady eyes found Toby, and his fists clenched. I smiled and skipped off, hearing one of the guy’s friends telling him not to go over and punch the ‘skinny faggot.’ I ran out to the car where Mark was, and grabbed the baseball bat.

I could see the guy from earlier, leaning up against the pool table with a couple of drinks, getting more and more worked up as he kept looking over at Toby. Toby and Liana then began walking towards the door. They would have to cross the angry guy’s path. I waited until Toby was close enough to him before sticking my leg out. The drinks fell to the floor; the bottles smashed and the big guy threw Toby across the bar. The men were about to advance on Toby’s unconscious form when Liana screamed,
“You guys are fucking pricks!”
“Oy! The bitch is with him!” Another guy yelled and she punched him in the nose. Then the whole bar seemed to get involved in the fighting in the next few seconds, one way or another.

I managed to spot August quickly enough with her bright red and blue hair. I got knocked around a bit as I made my way over to her, but my short stature prevented me from being noticed among the sea of people. August wasn’t very tall either, and one smack was all it took for her to fall to the floor. I waited and watched a little but people actually began running on top of her, too immersed in their brawling to notice that they were killing the teenage girl for me. It didn’t take long for her to die and I was the only one who saw it. I knew the cops would be there very shortly, so I bolted for the door once I’d checked her pulse. I didn’t care how many people I had to hit with the bat. All that mattered was that she was dead.

***

“Ditching school too are we? You’re running up quite the list of crimes,” Mark said with a chuckle as if he were just ever so clever. I jumped into the car and slammed the door shut.
“Oh yeah, a whole fifteen minutes I’m skipping. How utterly rebellious, of all the things to throw me in prison for, this would be it. Just drive old man.”

Lauren’s mother was out. Cookies were in the oven and July and Lauren were upstairs with the door shut. I first disabled the smoke alarm and then flipped the temperature on the oven up to max. I pulled a lighter out of my pocket, gave it a couple of flicks and then held it up to the curtains of the kitchen window. I lit anything that would catch quickly enough downstairs; I didn’t bother going upstairs to set fire to anything, that would’ve been rather stupid of me. I stood by the exit, making sure the fire caught everything. Once there was a considerable blaze, I hightailed it out of there as fast as I could. I watched the flames growing higher and higher and more violent in the side mirror of the car, as Mark drove us back to town.

***

It was Mark who grabbed June from the bar. I was waiting in the van. Mark didn’t do the whole don’t-scream-chloroform-handkerchief thing; instead, he calmly grabbed her arm and told her she had to come home because something terrible had happened to December. I think she realized that this was a lie when Mark ended up driving past our house and to the outskirts of town. I’d been sitting silently in the back seat so she was fairly surprised when I grabbed her ankles from behind and began tying them together with rope and duct tape. She struggled and reached back to yank my hair but Mark quickly forced her wrists up above her head and tied them up tightly. He then pushed the chair back with the lever under the seat so that there was plenty of room in front of her. I was ready with the funnel. Mark held it in her mouth and duct taped it in place so she couldn’t spit it out. That’s when I opened the bottle of vodka.

***

May was a creature of habit. In the mornings she woke early, earlier than everyone else, and then went to grab some toast. She always wore a silver bracelet as well. I’d gotten Mark to rewire the toaster the night before. Surprisingly, he knew how to do this, and was somehow able to change the amount of current released by the toaster. He also installed a little plastic clip inside of the toaster to snag the bread on its way back up. She would have to remove it by hand or more likely, with something like a knife.

She wasn’t entirely stupid. She turned off the power first and then unplugged the toaster before she stuck the knife in but I was plenty capable of turning the switch back on, which I did, with rather electrifying results.

***

Mark had gotten me cyanide pills. Potassium cyanide pills to be specific, from his work. I took the box of April’s pills out of Mom’s handbag, replaced the sleeping pills with the cyanide pills and then left the box on April’s bed when she was distracted. She was dead by the next morning.

***

It was difficult climbing up the tree high enough before March arrived at the park, especially in my five-year-old body, but I managed it. She showed up with her camera of course, not too long after I’d settled on a branch. Mark was waiting in a nearby bush, in case I fell and he had to run to catch me. What a stupid plan.

March was very confident on her feet and her ears were sharp. I could see her looking around whenever I made just the slightest noise as I climbed down to her branch. I’d stuck a thick stick the length of my torso, down the back of my top and once I got to her level, I pulled it out. She turned around slowly. She was absolutely stunned to see me, which gave me enough time to give her a decent whack with the stick right across the throat. She began falling, her body hitting sticks and branches on the way down. She didn’t move when she hit the ground.

Mark then ran out and checked her pulse. He gave me a nod and held his arms out. I rolled my eyes and carefully climbed down. I wasn’t risking my life just because some imbecile was expecting me to jump into his arms perfectly, from a height at which my sister had just died from.

***

“Now?” He asked. I looked over at the sleepwalking girl, muttering to herself about orange juice.
“Yes.” I walked over to February and planted a carton of orange juice and a bottle of rat poison in her hands. I grinned as she downed the contents of the yellow bottle. Perfect.

***

“I really don’t understand this,” Mark said, putting his face into his hands.
“Oh, but I do,” I said.
“You’re three years old! And a-a-a psychotic killer!”
“You created me,” I hissed. “This is allyour fault. Now you suffer the consequences – actually, on second thought, let’s make a deal.”
“A deal?”
“I may need some assistance, considering my physical restraints. I want all of them to die. I need to get away with it. You can cover it up.”
“Do you know what you are asking of me?”
“Do you know what will happen to yours and Mom’s careers once it gets out that their daughter is a murderer? Or I could pin it on you. After all, it is pretty unbelievable that a three year old could kill someone. But you definitely cannot win if you go against me. If you join with me, let me do as I wish, I can guarantee you two a perfect retirement. No more kids to pay for, all that life insurance money…it can only lead to financial success. Got it?”
“…Okay.”
“Also, I’m going to be exhausted for the next few days so let me sleep. There are some…issues of my own which need to be sorted out.”
“Right.”
“Do we have a deal then?” I offered my hand.
“Yes,” he said and shook my tiny hand.

***

Birthdays were family days. Everyone was together. No one went away. Cember was fine, until January started dressing up to leave. That was when I took over. January was leaving us, willingly. Not like Winter who had no choice. January would have to join her then. I climbed into the back seat of the car and lay down on the floor, just before Mark went to drive January to Timothy’s house. I got out once we were there and hid in a bush outside until January had gone inside and Mark had gone.

The good thing about Timothy’s house was that my uncle’s bar wasn’t far from it. I walked there (which quickly exhausted me) and then waited for a drunkard to emerge. When a middle-aged drunk man stumbled out, I reached out and tugged at the fabric of his pants. I began crying.
“My mommy left me!” I wailed. The man smiled sympathetically, his eyes crossing over at one point, and picked me up.
“Aw, poor girl you,” he slurred, “I can home drive you. Live you where?”

He put me in the car and I directed him to park on Timothy’s street. Close enough so that I could see the house, but far enough away for the car to gain speed when needed. The drunken man fell asleep as soon as he switched the engine off. She would have to come out soon, and I had to be ready for it. Now it was the waiting game.

I saw when she stormed out onto the sidewalk. That was when I crawled onto the man’s lap, slapped him awake, pulled the seat belt around us both, and told him to drive fast. He obeyed. January ran across the first half of the road when she saw the car but I turned the steering wheel in her direction and the next thing I knew, she was under the car, and the man had slammed on the brakes. I reached forward and switched the ignition off.

I grabbed the pocketknife off the floor of the car, which I’d spotted earlier, and pulled out the knife component. I undid the seat belt, turned around, and stabbed the man in the jugular. He drenched me in blood, but he died very quickly. I got out of the car and tried to drag January out from underneath the car, but her body was far too heavy for me and I was tired. I managed to get her torso out but that was it. I liked the way I could run my fingers over her wounds, how I could dress my hands in her blood. It was so pretty. She was with Winter now. They all had to be. They all had to be dead at fifteen.

I didn’t hear when Mark pulled up, but I became aware of his presence when he picked me up in his jacket. He began wiping the blood of my head and I merely giggled. The kill had left me absolutely euphoric.
“I killed her. She won’t leave Cember again. She’s with Winter now. Winter is happy. She has her sister.”

***

“I killed them,” I said. I looked up at Tommy. “I killed them.” I turned to Timmy. “I’m a murderer.” I began walking towards the two brothers, laughing. “And I thought she killed them,” I said, pointing at Linda. Timmy then pulled out a walkie-talkie thing and yelled,
“Now!” About twenty FBI agents burst into the room, grabbing me tightly around the arms, along with Mark.
“December Lambert, you are under arrest for the murders of Robert Thornton, January, February, March, April, May, June, July, August, September, October, and November Lambert, Lauren Ainsworth, for involvement in the Reaper’s Birthday Massacre, arson, breaking and entering, and assault. You have the right to remain silent. Everything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law…”

***

And so, Tommy, I told them what they wanted to know. I asked for a quick trial, said that I would plea guilty to murder – on insanity and now I am here in a mental institution. I’ve been behaving myself. It’s not so bad in here as long as you cooperate. You get privileges. I’ve been telling them what they want to know and I’ve spent every second of my free time writing this for you. I believe that you have the right to the unedited, real truth.

I honestly did not know until that little messy bit at the end, about Winter. I was not playing you. I sincerely apologize for everything I’ve – well, not for what I’ve done because it wasn’t really ‘me’ who did anything bad, but I do apologize for how absolutely fucked this was. I really hope you don’t let this affect you. You’ve got enough issues of your own, and I mean that in the nicest way possible.

I would also like to thank you for everything you’ve done for me, me meaning December, of course. You’re a very special person and you deserve to have people in your life that treat you that way.

I told Nadine, my therapist person (who is lovely by the way), to send this immediately. She told me she would as long as I gave her a complete copy (excluding this little part, but that’s our little secret, it’s only one page and she won’t notice, she trusts me) but I said she had to read it once it had been sent, not because it contained anything bad, but because I wanted it unedited. I think she understands – well, everyone here is under the assumption that you’re my “boyfriend” and I am overly in love with you. Sorry about those little notes I’ve been sending you. You’ve probably gotten about twenty of them, and I really hope you didn’t get your hopes up or anything (even though you probably want nothing to do with me anymore anyway.) They were so the mail people wouldn’t read through my mail or anything. This isn’t really ‘bad’ anyway. Whatever. Simple code by the way, I’m sure you can figure it out.

9’12 12 23 18 1 16 9 20 21 16 14 15 23. 20 8 9 19 9 19 20 8 5 12 1 19 20 20 9 13 5 25 15 21’12 12 8 5 1 18 6 18 15 13 13 5. 9 14 B 4 1 25 19 9 20’19 20 8 5 M20 8. 13 1 25 2 5 9 20’12 12 2 5 15 14 20 8 5 14 5 23 19.
16 12 5 1 19 5 3 8 5 3 11 21 14 4 5 18 25 15 21 18 2 5 4.

All my love and best wishes,
December Antonia Lambert

L/M/ID-L/M/0I

Heh, heh. Bye.