Status: In Progress
The Not-Love-Letters of a Serial Killer
Chapter 2
I bet you don't remember the day our neighbor, Sarah, died as well as I do. Sarah didn't like me, and frankly, the feeling was mutual. It would have been my pleasure to yank those blond piggy-tales right out of her head. I never told you, though, so I can't really blame you for sending Ben and I to her house after school on nights that you were working late.
Sarah was being particularly horrible to me that day. I was always picked on at school, which I never told you, but she was really the root of the problem. You wouldn't believe how ruthless a kindergartener can really be. That day she hit a new low with me. On a normal day there was nothing really to pick on me for other than being ugly, talking funny and not having any friends. That day, though, she decided to target me because I didn't have a mother. Normally I would have locked up my hurt in the vault that is my mind; Normally I would have been able to sidestep the stabbing comments that lingered in my ears. That day, though, it made me angry.
Ben ended up going to a friends house while I was stuck in Sarah's prison of a home. It disgusted me how ungrateful she was for her mother--for all the things her mother did for her. Laying on her bright pick bedspread was a new pair of overalls. Sarah slipped them on and ran down the hall with not so much as a "thank you". She was playing with her Barbie dolls by the stairs when I decided I didn't want to stay there anymore. That didn't go over very well.
Sarah tried to push me down the stairs, but I grabbed a hold of her new overalls, swung around and threw her down instead. She hit a couple stairs on the way down, but when she hit the bottom I heard the crunch of her neck snapping. The blood that oozed from her nose and mouth seemed surreal, kind of beautiful. Her eyes were partly open, but rolled back a bit in her head. A spot of drool was coming from the corner of her lips. It was unreasonable, I suppose, but I was livid. Absolutely pissed! It was unfair. How could she be dead? A wheezing or choking sound escaped her throat and I screamed, "No!"
My voice seemed to echo down the hallway. Both of Sarah's parent rushed down the hall to see their daughter laying crippled and dead. By my hand.
On a normal day that would have excited me. Today was not a normal day. That was the day I'd taken my first life. There lay my victim, broken at my feet. I should have felt pride. That day, though, I was angry.
I had killed her, but it was an accident! How could I have let that happen? There was no plot, no planned execution. I was actually ashamed. I began to cry. I couldn't stop myself. It didn't matter to me that Sarah's parents were grieving, I fell to my knees and wept. I wept because I'd begun my journey without knowing it.
When the police came I gave them my story. They didn't look twice at me. As it a five-year-old girl with big brown eyes. As if someone like that could be a monster? I guess I'm just the exception. Since I am, in fact, a monster.
It almost upset me that the police didn't take me away. I deserved it, for being so careless. Mostly I just wanted to be out of that wretched house, but her parents wouldn't let go of me. They were clutching onto me, watching the paramedics put Sarah on the gurney, crying. Until Sarah got loaded up into the ambulance, then I was left alone in the house. Forgotten. I walked back up the steps, finding a blood stain here and there, to retrieve my things.
I had to wait an hour in our front yard for you to get home. I didn't mind much, though. I started chasing grasshoppers for fun. You came home and gave me a big hug, not bothering to pull the car into the garage. Ben came home soon after that, too. We went inside and I told you both what happened. You felt bad, I guess, because I started crying, so you popped Nightmare on Elm Street (my favorite movie to this day) into the VHS and we had family movie night. Like nothing had actually happened. We just went on living out lives like usual.
I didn't come to terms with my kill until the funeral. There weren't a lot of people there, mostly family members. Them, you, me, and Ben, dressed in our formal attire. When I first realized that someone other than her mother was crying a wave of satisfaction came over me. It didn't matter that it was an accident. I had caused it. I had done something profound enough to bring a room full of people to mourn over a seemingly tragic event. I'd never felt more proud in my short life.
Dad, I didn't visit her grave because I missed her. Just to remind myself what I was living for.
Love,
Baby Girl
Sarah was being particularly horrible to me that day. I was always picked on at school, which I never told you, but she was really the root of the problem. You wouldn't believe how ruthless a kindergartener can really be. That day she hit a new low with me. On a normal day there was nothing really to pick on me for other than being ugly, talking funny and not having any friends. That day, though, she decided to target me because I didn't have a mother. Normally I would have locked up my hurt in the vault that is my mind; Normally I would have been able to sidestep the stabbing comments that lingered in my ears. That day, though, it made me angry.
Ben ended up going to a friends house while I was stuck in Sarah's prison of a home. It disgusted me how ungrateful she was for her mother--for all the things her mother did for her. Laying on her bright pick bedspread was a new pair of overalls. Sarah slipped them on and ran down the hall with not so much as a "thank you". She was playing with her Barbie dolls by the stairs when I decided I didn't want to stay there anymore. That didn't go over very well.
Sarah tried to push me down the stairs, but I grabbed a hold of her new overalls, swung around and threw her down instead. She hit a couple stairs on the way down, but when she hit the bottom I heard the crunch of her neck snapping. The blood that oozed from her nose and mouth seemed surreal, kind of beautiful. Her eyes were partly open, but rolled back a bit in her head. A spot of drool was coming from the corner of her lips. It was unreasonable, I suppose, but I was livid. Absolutely pissed! It was unfair. How could she be dead? A wheezing or choking sound escaped her throat and I screamed, "No!"
My voice seemed to echo down the hallway. Both of Sarah's parent rushed down the hall to see their daughter laying crippled and dead. By my hand.
On a normal day that would have excited me. Today was not a normal day. That was the day I'd taken my first life. There lay my victim, broken at my feet. I should have felt pride. That day, though, I was angry.
I had killed her, but it was an accident! How could I have let that happen? There was no plot, no planned execution. I was actually ashamed. I began to cry. I couldn't stop myself. It didn't matter to me that Sarah's parents were grieving, I fell to my knees and wept. I wept because I'd begun my journey without knowing it.
When the police came I gave them my story. They didn't look twice at me. As it a five-year-old girl with big brown eyes. As if someone like that could be a monster? I guess I'm just the exception. Since I am, in fact, a monster.
It almost upset me that the police didn't take me away. I deserved it, for being so careless. Mostly I just wanted to be out of that wretched house, but her parents wouldn't let go of me. They were clutching onto me, watching the paramedics put Sarah on the gurney, crying. Until Sarah got loaded up into the ambulance, then I was left alone in the house. Forgotten. I walked back up the steps, finding a blood stain here and there, to retrieve my things.
I had to wait an hour in our front yard for you to get home. I didn't mind much, though. I started chasing grasshoppers for fun. You came home and gave me a big hug, not bothering to pull the car into the garage. Ben came home soon after that, too. We went inside and I told you both what happened. You felt bad, I guess, because I started crying, so you popped Nightmare on Elm Street (my favorite movie to this day) into the VHS and we had family movie night. Like nothing had actually happened. We just went on living out lives like usual.
I didn't come to terms with my kill until the funeral. There weren't a lot of people there, mostly family members. Them, you, me, and Ben, dressed in our formal attire. When I first realized that someone other than her mother was crying a wave of satisfaction came over me. It didn't matter that it was an accident. I had caused it. I had done something profound enough to bring a room full of people to mourn over a seemingly tragic event. I'd never felt more proud in my short life.
Dad, I didn't visit her grave because I missed her. Just to remind myself what I was living for.
Love,
Baby Girl