Kiss me if you dare [ENGLISH]

Chapter 19

Charmey

At the age of nine, Charmey was old enough to understand the concept of ownership. Her parents had spoiled her with loads of toys - coloring books, stuffed animals, and dolls. They were neither stingy nor poor. Her father worked as a financial analyst, and her mother supported herself through a self-started business.

Charmey had received everything she pointed at during her upbringing, and the few times they hadn't been as accommodating, she had pestered them until they gave in.

She often screamed - could go on for several minutes no matter where they were; in the grocery store, the mall, or at a restaurant. Of course, it happened at home as well. Sometimes it had gone so far that the neighbors next door had knocked and asked what was going on.

Now she sat on the bed with a doll in one hand and scissors in the other. She hadn't named it as her classmates usually did. According to her, there was no reasonable reason to name something that didn't have a beating heart.

The doll's emerald-green eyes sparkled, and its artificial body emitted a golden shimmer in the light of the lamp. The day before, Charmey had styled its curly, dark brown hair into a beautiful braid, but it was now disheveled and unruly. She sat completely still, staring at the object in place. The lilac dress she wore was lined with dried mud that probably wouldn't come out in the wash.

Charmey hadn't told her parents what had happened during the day. She never did, despite their inquiries. She preferred to keep things to herself, but the impulses that came and went were difficult to manage and often manifested physically, causing harm.

And Charmey was angry - very angry. She hadn't been this angry in months. Everything was Ava's fault. Ever since the first day she started in the class, Ava had called her names and made fun of her. Worst of all was the high-pitched laughter that made her loose front teeth dangle inside her mouth.

But today, Ava had gone too far. Throwing her newest doll into a mud puddle was crossing the line. Her parents would probably blame it on jealousy, but they didn't understand what it was really about. Ava was mean - enjoyed pushing down and spitting on those who were different.

Because Charmey was different.

She didn't play like the other kids, didn't talk like the other kids, and didn't cry like the other kids. It had been discovered relatively early. The teacher had regular meetings with her parents once a week. Charmey understood that their conversations were about her, even though she didn't grasp the real meaning of the words. In any case, they were all wrong. It was everyone else who didn't understand her world. It was everyone else who was defective, but especially Ava.

Charmey raised the overly large scissors, opened the blades, and placed them on either side of the doll's face. Oh, how she hated her.

Hated.

Hated.

Hated.

Her delicate fingers pressed, and it pierced the forehead. It felt good, but it wasn't enough. Charmey repeated the same motion over and over again until the doll's head consisted of a dozen parts that couldn't even be fixed with glue.

The anger was gone, leaving her with a sense of emptiness at the same time her mother burst through the door and gasped at the sight.

"Charmey, what have you done?!" She rushed forward, snatching the scissors from her grip while making a desperate attempt to collect the plastic pieces. "What did I tell you about handling scissors?! And the doll! It was brand new!"

Charmey observed her mother's bewildered face in incomprehension. Why was she upset? It was her doll, after all.

"Do you know how much one of these costs?!" She waved her hands in an exasperated gesture, causing a lock of hair to fall into her face and end up in her left eye.