I don't know what drove me to do it. Maybe it was my absolute hatred for her. Or maybe it was my unconditional love. Either way something in my mind switched and I did. In my thoughts I couldn't see anything but her. Dead. Drowning even in death in a pool of her own blood. I couldn't care less about the consequences, just that what had to be done was done. It was her fault. All her fault. It always was.
I don't regret it. Even now, sitting in this desolate grey room, I still think she deserved every last cut. Dumb bitch. Evil bitch. She was no mother. And now look what she done. Even in death she found a way to torture me.
My mind rewinded to the last minute of her life. Blood spurting through massive gashes in her stomach and neck, dribbling through her lips as she drowned in herself. Her eyes were pleading, yet full of hatred. I know what she would have done if I let her live.
"You will live to regret this, Katherine Dailey," she spat blood, weakening through every breath. It gave me pleasure to watch her suffer like this, her insides slipping through the axe wound in her stomach, yet her heart still slowly beating as her lungs became polluted with blood, suffocating her agonisingly. It was mesmerising to watch her wretched soul make its treacherous journey to hell, and that was probably the best memory I had of her.
She was wrong. I didn't regret one moment.
YOU ARE READING
Run, Devil, Run
ParanormalWhen 14 year old Katherine Dailey viciously slaughters her mother, she is shipped off to the eerie St Christopher's institution for the criminally insane after being diagnosed with a psychiatric disorder. But how do you get better when you share a...
