Confessions of a Bitch

Twisted

Mum once said that everyone in dad’s family was twisted –including me, in case you haven’t noticed. Mum and dad have been home for hours and I still haven’t said a word to them. The USB has long since been removed from my laptop and is hidden, somewhere safe. Something tells me dad has also become a sneaking Tom. He has become the devil’s incarnate.

Instead, I sit by the window, staring out into the street at Old Man Black’s house. Make no mistake; it still gives me the creeps. In my hand is the picture of grandma Dorris, smiling straight at the camera whilst holding a cigarette. She too, said I was twisted. She called me a reincarnate of my dad. She said I’d be useful. It was just too bad I used her first.

I can still see the bullet shells on the floor and the way the light went out of her eyes when I pulled the trigger.

Let’s get one thing straight. I did not cause her death. Her death mainly served as a finale for what had been a very long saga…even longer than the Twilight books. Mum and I had been doing just fine for many years… that was until she turned up on our doorstep with a smile on her face, ten years later. I remember the way colour drained from mum’s face when they met face to face for the first time in years. All grandma Dorris did, was smile and say, “Alas. I have finally found you. I told you, you can’t escape from me forever.” And with that, she turned around and walked away.

Grandma Dorris was mad and suffered from obsessive compulsive disorder, not to mention she hated my mother. Mum feared the woman and she had the right to. Grandma Dorris never ever missed her aim with a gun. She was even better with a knife. Trust me; I’ve seen what she can do.

As soon as she left, mum slammed the door. Her eyes were wild, just like Cross Eyes. “We’re leaving,” was all she said before grabbing a suitcase and throwing it at me. “Pack your things Amanda. We have to go.” For a moment, I thought about protesting, but then thought the better of it. After all, what use was there in protesting when I could fix the problem myself? To be honest, it was as simple as A-B-C.

I made up an excuse that I had a media project to attend to, on Saturday and was staying at a friend’s place over the weekend. Mum and dad instantly believed me and let me go. It didn’t take me long to find Grandma Dorris. She had a habit of forgetting to cover her tracks. It was all too easy.

She was sitting in front of the television, watching an old black and white film whilst drinking wine and smoking her much loved cigarette.

“Hello Grandma Dorris,” I said as she turned around to face me.

“Hello my child.” That was another thing about her. She never ever called me by my name. My hands were placed behind my back. There was no way she would have guessed I was hiding a gun.

“What are you doing back here?” I asked.

“I’m here to take you back.”

“Back where?”

“Home,” She replied with a smile. “I’ve missed you so much. You look just like Liev and-” It was already too late. At the mention of my father’s name, I whipped out the gun and shot her three times, right in the middle of the head.

I never miss my aim. After all, it was Grandma Dorris who taught me how to shoot.

Killing her was the easy part. Disposing her corpse was the difficult part. That was where Rhys came in. He was the one who made Grandma Dorris’ remains disappear. After all that’s Rhys’ talent; he’s good at making people disappear. Personally I wanted to dismember her and send her pieces in a box to my father, but thought it was best if that didn’t happen.

Rhys’ services didn’t come for free; not even with me. A price had to be paid and I gave him what he wanted. He definitely wasn’t my first.

I returned home later that Sunday night to my parents and by Tuesday, I found myself in a police cell, accused of murder. Turns out my alibi wasn’t good enough, and just like Grandma Dorris, I was terrible at covering my tracks. But Rhys had already done a good job. The police didn’t have a body. They couldn’t even find her. Even better, they did not have a weapon. The shell casings at the scene of the crime had been removed. Rhys and I were very thorough with our cleaning. The only thing the Police had on me was the fact I didn’t stay with a friend during the weekend and an eyewitness had seen me parking outside Grandma Dorris’ house. Within two days, I was out of the police cell and back to my typical mundane life.