My life was for the first time not a drag. The ugly words, the pushing and the looks they gave me. It had all stopped. First it was to be perfect. But now I realized, that all the effort was worth it, just based on the stopped bullying. I had gotten used to it, but now that I knew how it was, when people didn't constantly hate you, I couldn't let go. I would go through everything, to experience having people around you that actually talk to you. Who don't ignore you. But it wasn't joy I felt. I didn't feel anything. There were no places for feelings. Feelings made sad. Sad wasn't perfect. I had to keep up the perfection!
Seven days later, the next big improvement happened. My hair. My dark, straight hair. It was blond. I let out a shriek, when I looked in the mirror. And what even more surprised me, was my fathers voice, asking if I was OK.
I had never been in this situation. I wasn't practiced. I took a deep breath.
"Sure!" I answered, like I thought Kamilah would answer.
Do I have to mention that this day was even more wonderful? That nobody even wondered about my changes. She wasn’t even mentioned.
When I looked at her window that night, it was dark.
Daddy hadn't visited her.
***
But the spell wasn't done yet. I was still pale. My lips still boring. And Jamyl didn't love me. On the 12. day after the spell, I knew time had come. Time to fulfill the last phase. To kill the last bit of her.
I knew that she sneaked in the kitchen at night, to eat. She didn't dare at daytime. Father had actually yelled at her. He said that she should keep away from me. I was an empty shell, no emotions, but right there, I was filled with glee.
That night I walked to the part of the house where her room laid. I didn't have to sneak in any way, so I walked gracefully with determined steps, to the white door at the end of the hallway. The rug muffled my steps, not that i needed it. Father slept like a stone, so my chances that he heard me, in the other end of the grand house, where minimal.
Just as I approached the door, she opened it.
She wasn't perfect.
Her hair was wild and tangled, and you could see every bone in her fragile body. I felt stronger than ever, in front of that pathetic creature that once had been my role-model. The one I had followed. I looked at her with disgust.
She was shocked, and looked highly unattractive. Her mouth opened and closed, like a goldfish gasping for water.
"You!" she finally chocked out.
I smiled a perfect smile.
"What.. What has happened to you? What have you done?" Her voice was a faint whisper.
I just kept smiling. I enjoyed seeing her like this. My older sister.
"Can't you see? Everything is perfect now." I slowly got closer. She just stood still.
Slowly I took the little kitchen knife, that I had hid in the pocket of my nightgown. Then she saw it.
"YOU'RE A MONSTER!" She shrieked. Poor sis was losing her mind.
I just kept smiling.
"It's for the best." I said, slowly, like talking to a child.
She ran into her room, but I was faster, and managed to get in, before she could lock the door.
"YOU ARE CRAZY! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" She kept yelling, and I started to get annoyed. Why couldn't she just hold still?
But instead she threw the chair in front of her dressing table at me, but I elegantly avoided it. Her room was plain but beautiful. Or: It had been beautiful. The beautiful white glittery wallpaper was peeling of, and the make up on the dressing table was toppled, so powder was laying on the before clean floor.
She was breathing quickly, her eyes full of despair, as I slowly came closer. She tried to escape, but the only escape was the window. If she jumped, she would fall. A fall on the asphalt, she wouldn't survive. Not thinking clearly, she ran to the beautiful window, beside the big, beautiful, antique wardrobe. She looked down, and seemed to decide. What was worse?
I came closer, and then cut the ponytail of. It couldn't had hurt, but it made her turn around and scream. And I loved it. I loved it to see her in pain, to see her ugly. I was ecstatic. My plan had been to come quickly, leave quickly. But it was to much fun. For the first time in a long, long time, I let my feelings rule. Kamilah was standing in front of me, shaking.
"Please.... Please don't." She cried, tears finding their way down her cheek.
I took the knife and traced it down her jawline, like her fingers had so often done, like Jamyl had so often done. Blood was now mixed with the tears, and she winced.
"Oh stop it" I snapped, and she shut up immediately.
"Why?" she now winced.
I just looked at her, with an insane smile on my lips.
"You were always prettier. Daddy just loved you because you looked like mom. You got everything you wished for."
She tried to reason to me, tried to smile.
"Dad loves us both, Lils."
But I got angry. Who was she, having the right to judge my life? I thought of all I had been through. All the taunts, the sleepless nights.
Harshly I took her remaining her, and roughly chopped it of. She cried and screaming, but I just took a sock from the wardrobe, and stopped it into her mouth. Father didn't have to find out.
She cried her eyes out. But now I cut through her beautiful silk gown. Moms beautiful silk gown.
It was first when I could see that Kamilah was almost chocking that I stopped. Instead I traced the knife up from her belly, to her breast, and to her lips, leaving blood dripping. I took the sock out of her mouth. She gasped for air, while I kept playing with the knife, tracing it over her face. She looked like a macabre mask.
Everyone could see that I was a thousand times more perfect than her!
Her lifespan could end any moment, and I still hadn't fulfilled my task. But as she collected her last grasp of air, and opened her mouth for a scream, I stabbed the knife one time quickly in her chest.
On the 13. Night, stab the one in the heart, and feel your own pain disappear.
Check.
