Such A Bad Little Girl

She should have been good, maybe then mom wouldn't have told me to kill her...

I close my eyes. She’s telling me to do it.

 

Do it again. Do it. Do. It.

 

I want it back, my life, her life, his life. The way it was before I became this way. Before she started telling me what to do, how to do it… before I became this monster…

 

Mother, wants me to do it again, but I’ve just done it. I can’t continue. She needs to stop talking. Her voice, raking through my ears hurts, the sight before me hurts. I shouldn’t have listened, not this time. This girl on the ground, she didn’t deserve this, but Mother says that it’s her fault, not mine. She shouldn’t have fought, wouldn’t have if she hadn’t done something wrong to deserve it. Mother says I’m not a monster, but how does she know?

 

She’s as dead as the girl on the ground before me, but her blood stopped flowing too long ago for it to be pooling around my feet. No. It’s the girl’s blood. Blood on my hands, on my feet technically, but does it matter? The police will still put me in a cell. They won’t listen that Mother forced me to become this. For them to know that story, though, I’d have to tell them I killed Mother, too. Then they’d pin me for her murder, too, and I couldn’t live in jail. The inmates would kill me. They’re not nice to child killers.

 

I look down at the little girl again, and I finally notice that she’s looking at me, but that’s not possible because she’s dead. If Mother can talk, though, maybe this little girl can watch me. Her name is Casey. I remember that because she told me. Just yesterday she told me her name while she sat outside her house playing with her little dolls. She told me in her tiny little voice, and that’s when Mother told me she’d been bad. That she’d been a bad little girl and she had to be taught a lesson. I shake my head at her and tell her that she should have been a good girl.

 

She had been so pretty. I shake my head and walk away. What a waste. If only she’d been a good little girl. Then maybe Mother wouldn’t have made me do it. I walk away and leave the bad thoughts behind. After all, I’m cold. Why should I stand here looking at a bad little girl? I have to go to work tomorrow, and my art students will worry if I’m late. Plus, the principal would be angry.

 

The End

Author's Note

AGAIN! Something that just popped into my head. I know that you're probably assuming this is my usual style, but it isn't. I will repeat. IT IS NOT MY USUAL STYLE! Something just happens in my head when I randomly start writing with no goal of where I'm going. Sooooorry!

Reviews

[Adrienne Sims]

Don't apologize! I enjoyed the read!

[0_o Abbie]

I'm a little confused at this one. "art students" and "principal" I know the answer's in there i just can't see it.