HOMEWRECKER {18+}

16

O L I V I A

You know when they say women are most likely to murder people with poison?

I would have agreed with that saying if it were not for the yearning for my revenge that was occurring before my eyes, inside the small cabin, in the middle of the forest, in the middle of nowhere.

If I didn't experience the suffering I went through during my younger years, which I only now view as my greatest strength since I feel unstoppable and in control of a person's life.

Taking away the control of their lives the same way they took away pieces of my life throughout the years.

Seven years of my life were ruined by my mother, then add three more after being placed in the foster home.

But now I had control over another person's life, control of the person's life who used to be my mother's lover, and the lawyer who put my father into debt.

A person who discreetly led my father to his deathbed together with my mother.

"What do you want? I can give you anything! Money? Cars? Jewelry?"

The man could still beg and plead, just as my mother's old agent did before I put a spike through his tongue, making him choke on his own warm blood.

None of them ever understands why they are placed in such a horrific situation.

"To live without the shadows of my past haunting me," I answered the man in a low, quiet voice, exactly the same way I did with my first murder of my mother's agent.

They always ask the same question. They aren't even aware of the people they hurt and murdered the souls of.

"What..?" The man, whose both ankles and wrists were tied, wore a puzzled and, at the same time, terrified expression on his face.

The man was lying on the wooden floor of a different summer cabin I had broken into after examining it and finding that the owners didn't have any children or that they rarely came up here.

I didn't want to traumatize a child, as they would witness the sight of a rotten corpse in their living room at their vacation home, nor did I want the owners to make a surprise visit when I was in the middle of murdering someone.

This time I chose a specific reason to murder this person inside the living room.

It was usually in the living room of the man's old apartment, which was sold a long time ago, that everything occurred.

In his living room, where I was forced to witness the sexual acts between him and my mother multiple times, and all those times they would have music on.

Sometimes they would force me to dance as they had sex in the background.

Disgusting bastards.

The younger girl's bleeding back was still fresh as the few droplets of blood found their way down to the floor, but so were the crimson-red paintings spread all over the marble floor.

Most of the blood had already dried up on her back or been used on the paintings which were hanging on the walls.

Open, re-open, open, re-open, open, re-open.

The little girl's mother, Eleanor Everett, enjoyed re-opening the scars on her back.

Open, re-open, open, re-open, open, re-open.

The wounds never got a chance to heal, before her mother wanted to open them again.

"Dance, my little ballerina," The mother moaned as she was on all fours on the couch with her lawyer of a lover behind her.