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One Month Is All It Takes...
A mother is very precious to a child, so taking away a child's mother isn't a good idea. So when a peaceful household changes and the child's mother is taken from them. The child also changes...
Caitlin M McCutcheon
One Month Is All It Takes...
Caitlin M McCutcheon
I watched as they lowered the coffin from my position next to my grandparents. They wept but I did not. I was much too shocked for that.
She was dead.
She’d supposedly died peacefully but that was far from the truth.
She was dead.
I saw it all from my position peeking past the door that separated the living room from the hallway… separated carnage from tranquillity…
She was dead.
I saw it all. The argument. The temper that was lost and…the crime.
She was dead.
I looked towards the culprit in disgust. How could he act as if he did nothing wrong? Shedding crocodile tears over a death he caused?
She was dead.
One thing I was certain of though…in that moment of grief was that…
My mother was dead and my father was next.
You may be confused but no need to worry for all will be revealed as I describe to you all about the one month that was different from the rest. The month that changed my life and then you may just find out what happens afterwards…
Monday. The beginning of that week. The week everything began to contort and change. My father gathered everyone in the house to tell us he had lost his job. Of course we had all been shocked at first because he was very good at his job as a salesman. My mother had stayed quiet for a few minutes before she perked up and ushered me out of the living room so she could speak with my father. Probably about finances and things. I didn’t really care. I had shrugged my shoulders before beginning to walk towards the stairs intent on going to my room but…I stopped when I heard it.
My parents yelling at each other.
I had felt my eyes widen in surprise before slowly turning back to face the door. They had never argued before…I then began to walk towards the slightly open door albeit I was hesitant in doing so and so I should have been, I had no idea of the horrors that lay behind it…I remember gulping, nervous, before slowly looking through the space in the slightly ajar door. I watched as it happened and even now it’s like it all happened in slow motion…my father arguing with my mother…the roar of utter rage that tore itself from my father’s throat then…my father grabbing one of my mother’s large knitting needles from the small side table and ramming it through my mother’s throat. I had held back my scream but I felt the tears sliding down my cheeks…he had killed my mother. The same thought went through my mind like a mantra ‘hekilledmymotherhekilledmymother’. I had watched again for a few seconds before backing away and making my way up the stairs to my room to then sit in a corner to silently cry as many emotions overwhelmed me. Mostly sadness but underneath all that sadness there was a deep undying rage for my father, for what he had done.
That moment leads to now as I look straight at him. He doesn’t know that I saw. Which is good for me and bad for him because over the next few weeks he’ll try to comfort me and reassure me that everything will be alright even though my mother is dead. He doesn’t know how much danger keeping his guard down around me will put him in…wait till he does…
It’s been 2 weeks since that incident and I’ve been planning thoroughly about what to do about enacting my revenge. I’ve thought all about every possible thing to do and thinking ahead encase of the police I’ve decided that, if it’s for mother then, I don’t care if I’m locked away for the rest of my life. Looking over at father now I grin inwardly. He doesn’t have any idea about what’s going to hit him when he comes back from his latest job interview…no idea at all…
…I did it…I killed him. No one has come to the house yet so his body is still at the bottom of the stairs. I know for sure that he’s dead because I checked his pulse plus I stabbed him with mother’s other large knitting needle through the throat so now he knows how mother must have felt…mother must be so proud of me right now…I killed her killer…
It’s been a week since I killed father for mother. It’s nearly the end of the month but that’s all I know. I don’t know what the time of day is inside this room of white. After the police came to the house I simply grinned at them and told them to arrest me for I had killed for mother…but they didn’t…they looked at me like a psychopath! They took me out to their car then drove me to a police station but from there people in white jackets came and got me. I know where they took me…they think I don’t but I do! They took me to a place for crazy people but I’m not crazy! I killed for mother! Mother’s happy for what I did! Why can’t they see that?! They keep asking me why I did it…why I killed father but they aren’t going to get a different answer from me. It’ll be the same every time. I did it for mother. They let me keep my diary because they said it might help me but I don’t need help! I shouldn’t be in here! I did something good! I helped mother get revenge! They should all just die if they can’t understand that I’m just a child that helped its mother. I hate them all…they’re all against me. The people in the white coats try to give me pills but I refuse to…they’re probably trying to poison me…That’s right. They’re all out to get me for what I did. They should all just die in hell.
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© 2015 Caitlin M McCutcheon
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