Serial Killer's Daughter

Ignorance is Bliss...sometimes

I looked out my window, everything soon becoming nothing but blurs as I drifted into unconsciousness.

I was eight years old as I peered down at the man. Blood ran down both sides of his face, he looked up at me with fear. He was lying on his back, his hands and feet were tied. I stood over him, my dagger in my hand. A tremble ran through my body. Did I want to do this?

I looked to my left and saw my father, he was sitting down as if this was an everyday thing and for him it was.  He smiled at me and nodded his head, telling me to kill the man. I gulped, swallowing my fears, not letting them be shown. I nodded my head at my father and looked back at the man.

His eyes were a bright blue and they reminded me of that old lady. However this man wasn’t too old. He seemed to be in his late forties. His had light black hair and a beard. Did he seem weak? At this very moment, yes, he was weak.

Here I was, a girl of only eight, and I was going to take his life. He wasn’t fighting back, but he did stay frozen. I looked to my right and saw Lucifer. His black eyes were shining as they always had, but this time there was a happy almost crazed look in them. Did I look the same? I looked back yet again at the man, trying to calm my nerves.

This would be my first “real” kill and I was scared. But I didn’t dare say that out loud. I took in another shaky breath. I can do this, I chanted in my head. I can do this. I then straddled the man and leaned over him, wanting to see his eyes. Tears fell down his face.

“Please.” He silently begged me, his voice almost inaudible.

I tuned him out, not allowing myself to understand what he was saying. If I did, I knew I wouldn’t be able to do it.

“You are weak and you shall rot in hell.” I said with vindication, repeating what my brother had said before his own killings.

I gripped my knife tighter and with all the strength I had, I stabbed him in his heart. Repeatedly I stabbed him, and blood began to come out of his mouth. I still continued though, my hands beginning to get covered in red. I remember looking at that man. His eyes were wide with fear and with pain, until finally they became lifeless. I had taken his life away, I had done that.

“Shaitan.” My dad said my name, waking me from my sleep.

I looked at him. He smiled at me.

“Let’s get something to eat.” He said.

I nodded my head and looked out the window. My mind now registering that it was early morning. Our car was parked in a small parking lot; there were only a few cars. In front of us was a diner. I yawned and stretched.

“What time is it?” I asked him.

“About seven,” He replied, getting out of the car. I did the same and opened my door getting out. “You can still sleep if you wish.”

“No, I’m okay dad.” I replied.

He nodded his head looking at me. I did the same. I took in his appearance. His black hair was messy, but I knew that combing it wouldn’t tame it. He had bags under his eyes, making him look worn out and exhausted. He wore simple jeans and a red and black plaid jacket with a black shirt underneath.