My heart races and I speed home. They'll find the body. They'll know it was me. My fingers twitch and I want to jump out of my own skin. The fall air is silent, like the corpse of Britney. I can't shake the picture of her crumpled frame from my head, the way her face was soft, like the ocean after a storm.
My shaky hand grips the door handle and I pull. I recoil as the strong stench of liquor floods my senses. I blink back the small beads of water in my eyes and walk on forward. The clink of a can on wood tells me that he's awake. I start shaking harder and the tears from earlier are starting to pool down my cheeks. I sniffle loudly and the tv goes dead, followed by my misplaced footsteps. I gulp and brace myself.
I first notice his heavy breathing, followed by his huge shadow. He steps in the door frame and I nod politely. He scowls, his eyes darkening.
"Why are you late, brat?" he spats. I keep my stance and shakily reply
"I-I was... Th-there w-w-was some..." I stumble for words. His large hand closes around my throat and I squeak slightly.
"ANSWER ME, BITCH!" he roars. The tears are unstoppable and my body shakes violently.
"I was held back by a teacher..." I rasp, choking. His grip releases and my body falls limply to the floor. I gasp for air, my lungs stinging with pain.
"What a pathetic piece of sh*t... Your mom would be disappointed..." and with that he stumbled off.
***
Sunlight streams in my face and I blink tiredly. I inspect myself in the mirror, a large blue bruise in the shape of two hands locked around my throat. I sigh, applying makeup to it. I wish I could tell, but what would it do? The only person who ever believed me was my mom but... she's gone now... I wipe the tears springing in my large eyes and quickly get dressed.
I peek in the living room, my father passed out snoring on the couch. Britney's body flashes in my mind again and I can't help but think of how easy it would be to end his horrible existence. I mutter and grab my cheap bag, throwing cash and library books in it. I plug my earbuds into my ears and turn on my MP3 player. I walk out, locking the door behind me.
I hum the tune, and start singing.
Up on my side
Where it is felt
I pack a little pistol on my pistol belt
I point my hand into a gun and picture my father in front of me and fire
I think it might be fear
I sigh, so badly wishing I could.
Of the world
And the way
It makes you feel afraid...
My hand relaxes and I continue my trudge to the mall.
Under the skin
Against the skull
They put a little chip so that the know it all
I think I might be scared...
My fists clench and unclench my pace speeding up then slowing down.
Of the world
And the way
It makes you feel afraid
And how it gets in the way
The lyrics are sweet to me. But this time, they're different...
And I want brimstone in my garden
I want roses set of fire
And I, well I want what's best for me
And I, I think I know just what that means
Just what that means...
My mind races, and my hand shakes. Ways I could hurt them... All of them... Those who have wronged me...
Today I coo
Today I caw
I have a pistol party and I kill 'em all...
I think I might be scared...
Of the man and the men with their hands inside
And the women, all the women, all they do is cry
And I, well I lose my mind
My slow and soft steps become hard and angry. I can see his eyes as the fire fades and he becomes limp. And now I crave blood...
***
I walk home from the mall, and see him still asleep. I pull out the two bottles of medicine I picked up on the way here and smile gleefully. I enter the kitchen and start cooking.
After an hour or so, the meal is prepared. It's not the best, but it's still edible. The glossy steak gleams at me and I discard the empty bottles. I grin wickedly and wait for him to wake.
I first hear his moans and I perk up.
"Father, I made you dinner!" I call out brightly. He appears in the kitchen, his eyebrows arched in surprise. It quickly goes cold.
"At least you can do one thing right..." he grumbles. He noisily chomps away at it, each bite makes me smile wider, to the point of pain. He finishes the meal and returns to his chair. Now, I wait for my poison to kick in.
My fingers trail along the edge of the bathroom mirror. I stare at my crazed expression, my once gently brown eyes widened and bloodshot. My lips are cracked and my hair a mess. I grip the mirror and laugh slowly and quietly, only a chuckle. It becomes loud and sharp, and I have to clench the counter to avoid falling over. It was too easy.
Too easy...
