The Murderer||Glee

Dorthea

"I need an ambulance- and – and the cops. It's an emergency" James Green sobbed down the phone, which trembled in his hand after calling 911.

His wife, Lifen, was sitting beside him; numb with complete shock; unable to move or talk.

"What's the problem" the voice from the phone asked.

"My baby daughters- they've just been – they've been murdered. Suffocated. They're only-" his voice shook with tears "only 9 months old"

"Could you please tell me your name and address, sir? I know this must be hard for you, but we have to get to you immediately."

James gave his details; his voice still shaking.

The ambulance and police car arrived a couple of minutes later and the two tiny, young bodies were carried out.

"NOOO" Lifen screamed. Her husband pulled her into a tight hug and together they broke down in tears; watching their daughters being taken away.

Neither of them were looking at their eldest daughter. Dorothea Green, aged 7, sat in the corner of the living room watching the scene intently.

She was keeping perfectly still and silent.

Her long, silky hair concealed her pale face; hiding her features.

"Are you ok, darling?" one of the policemen asked, resting a gentle hand on her shoulder.

She looked up at him, and then let out a cold, callous laugh that would haunt everyone in the room for the rest of their lives.

It was a laugh completely unsuited to a young child.

"I'm not ok" she finally whispered in a cruel and quiet voice. "I want to do it again."

***

Dorothea Green was sent to California State Asylum where was placed in a small, white room in the children's ward.

These four walls became her home for eight years.

Her parents never came to visit; they didn't want to see her after what she had done to her sisters.

Dorothea didn't care; she didn't love them anyway. She loved no one.

Dorothea seemed like a normal little girl on the outside; she was very quiet, incredibly intelligent for her age and loved to read.

Every day she would read some of her books; Fairy tales, Shakespeare's plays, Harry Potter.

On the inside, however, she had a grim, consuming obsession with death and murder.

She kept a little journal which she hid from the doctors; it was full of many different and elaborate ways in which she could kill people.

The guard that patrolled the children's ward at night was a chubby man with glasses.

Dorothea didn't sleep. She would stay up and terrorise him constantly.

"Alan" she would whisper. "I want to kill you. I want to watch you die."

Alan attempted to ignore her, but her words would get more and more graphic; she described in vivid detail exactly how she planned on killing him.