Little Angel

Ethan Triche

I had snuck in the house the night before, through a window to my room around back. I didn’t want to wake anyone. Didn’t want to disturb things when they’re peaceful for once.
I woke up after a long night of nightmares. I love nightmares. I’d call them a dream, actually. I was the one stabbing the wide-eyed man on the log. I was the one cutting off his hands. I did it all. I loved it. The dream felt so real. I even got rid of the knife in the most ingenious way. I gave it right to the bitch in the suit. In the dream, it dawned on me. They couldn’t do anything with it. I’m a minor, even if they run the fingerprints, they wouldn’t be able to tie it back to me. I have no fingerprint records. And I washed the man’s blood off after the killing. How could they prove it was the murder weapon? It was all a dream though. A good one. A killing that I never got caught for.
I hadn’t killed the man on the log. Maybe one day that will be me. But I’ve got a lot more to learn. So what, I lost my knife. Would they really take me down for killing a few muskrats? Seeing a real killer in action put me at ease. I was no longer worried about being caught. About people knowing what I do for fun.
“Are you okay, honey,” my mom asked from the doorway. “You were making weird sounds last night in your sleep.”
“I’m fine.”
“You sure?”
“I’m fine. Better than ever.”
“You got in late last night. I heard you. Didn’t you?”
I nodded.
“Where were you?”
I didn’t say anything.
“Where were you, Ethan.”
Fuck. She was using my name. No honey. No little angel. She means business – for once she means business. What a great time to be a real mom, mom.
“Ethan?”
“Keep it down, please.” I sat up and patted the bed near me. She walked over and sat down. “I saw something last night.”
“What?”
“The killer. I saw the killer.”
“You did? What did they look like?”
“No. I didn’t actually see them. It was dark. I saw them doing something. Killing someone.”
She hugged me tight. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry you had to see that. Are you okay? Are you sure you didn’t see them?”
Don’t be sorry, I thought. “I’m fine. And no, I didn’t see them.”
“You must be shaken. No wonder you were having nightmares last night. We have to report this to the police. What if someone saw you there? What if they find traces that you were there? We can’t keep this a secret, that’s what a guilty person would do.”