By Airicka Phoenix (Darkness/Faith/Perplexed)
Did I forgive my father for leaving? Of course. It took a lot to put up with my mother. Only the brave survived. Did I forgive my mom for remarrying? Yeah, sure. Someone had to marry Charlie. He wasn’t getting any younger, nor was his gut getting any smaller. Did I forgive Jordan for cheating on me with Hayley? Absolutely… right after I remodeled his truck with a tire iron and put a little farewell present on his front porch, inside a box with no holes. But Mittens didn’t need holes. The tabby didn’t need air, not anymore.
See? I was forgiving. I believed in giving people a second chance. I’m all for being the bigger person.
But my sainthood had limits, as did my patience.
Now, I didn’t want to do this. Really, this wasn’t me. But it had to happen. Besides, would it hurt if no one knew? They could all go on living in their blissfully ignorant worlds, cocooned in safety. They would like that; pretending happiness was as important as being perfect. I could give them that. It would be my secret. For once, I would be the favorite… the one that was wanted.
The wooden handle slipped from my slick fingers; the blade made a cluttering sound as it hit the hardwood. Crimson droplets marred Mother’s immaculate floor, ruining the hours it took to polish and wax every square inch.
Just another accident I would tell them; poor Hayley was in the wrong place at the wrong time. They would believe me. They would never guess. They would never know of the darkness within me. Their faith would keep me safe. I was dazzled and perplexed by their naivety. Such simple minded fools. I could stand there, blood drenching the hem of my jeans, dripping off my fingers, down my shirt and they would never suspect shy Katy. I was too sweet to hurt a fly. Who would ever suspect my hands were as bloody as the knife lying forgotten by the crumpled body?
Carefully, I knelt next to the bent arm, touching the purple vein pressing up against the stretch of alabaster. A thin trail of red followed the movement of my finger from wrist to the inner part of the elbow, blemishing the flawless skin like a jagged scar.
Finally… my beautiful and beloved sister was as perfect as she had always wanted to be, even in death.
(Happy Halloween!)
Did I forgive my father for leaving? Of course. It took a lot to put up with my mother. Only the brave survived. Did I forgive my mom for remarrying? Yeah, sure. Someone had to marry Charlie. He wasn’t getting any younger, nor was his gut getting any smaller. Did I forgive Jordan for cheating on me with Hayley? Absolutely… right after I remodeled his truck with a tire iron and put a little farewell present on his front porch, inside a box with no holes. But Mittens didn’t need holes. The tabby didn’t need air, not anymore.
See? I was forgiving. I believed in giving people a second chance. I’m all for being the bigger person.
But my sainthood had limits, as did my patience.
Now, I didn’t want to do this. Really, this wasn’t me. But it had to happen. Besides, would it hurt if no one knew? They could all go on living in their blissfully ignorant worlds, cocooned in safety. They would like that; pretending happiness was as important as being perfect. I could give them that. It would be my secret. For once, I would be the favorite… the one that was wanted.
The wooden handle slipped from my slick fingers; the blade made a cluttering sound as it hit the hardwood. Crimson droplets marred Mother’s immaculate floor, ruining the hours it took to polish and wax every square inch.
Just another accident I would tell them; poor Hayley was in the wrong place at the wrong time. They would believe me. They would never guess. They would never know of the darkness within me. Their faith would keep me safe. I was dazzled and perplexed by their naivety. Such simple minded fools. I could stand there, blood drenching the hem of my jeans, dripping off my fingers, down my shirt and they would never suspect shy Katy. I was too sweet to hurt a fly. Who would ever suspect my hands were as bloody as the knife lying forgotten by the crumpled body?
Carefully, I knelt next to the bent arm, touching the purple vein pressing up against the stretch of alabaster. A thin trail of red followed the movement of my finger from wrist to the inner part of the elbow, blemishing the flawless skin like a jagged scar.
Finally… my beautiful and beloved sister was as perfect as she had always wanted to be, even in death.
(Happy Halloween!)
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