May Sullivan's had been one never ending loop. Move around when her dad gets a new teaching job, be the perfect, athletic, musical, smart daughter, don't get attached, and don't talk about what happened to her mom on that fateful night six years ago...
"Not yet." You murmured, putting more pressure on the knife.
You pull it up before blood can be drawn. The child's a deep sleeper and doesn't stir.
"One day."
You start to cut at your fingers with the knife, when the girl asks what happened to your hands you'll lie and say you cut them while cooking.
You take a deep breath and cut a part of the child's hair, then bring it up to your nose and breathe in her scent. Just like mama and soon she'll be even more like her mother.
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