Hermione

a murderer

1.2

Hermione was born on June 10th 1974. She was the third of an overall of five kids on a small farm near Vienna. Two older brothers and two younger sisters. Her grandparents lived on the farm as well, same as her uncle.

The relationship to her grandparents was more or less platonic, very distanced. She avoided having to go to their part of the house.

Hermione grew up to be very slim, if not scrawny. Kindergarten wasn't really a thing back then, so she skipped it. That makes it hard for her to find friends at school.

Especially because she has a lot of work at home. Both her brothers help with the farm and as soon as she turns ten, she has to help as well.

Days, weeks, months go by. Hermione is still the smallest in her class. Everyone else seems to have a growth spurt BUT her. She was always slim. Having to do hard work at home contributed to that as well.

There was this girl at school who would be particularly mean to her at that time. It was like she really had it our for her. Claudia was cruel. She'd shove her into walls or out of her way whenever she could; steal her pens or books on a daily basis. Those things aren't in her journals. I had similar problems when I went to primary school until one day some switch flipped and I attacked that girl. My mother had to pick me up from school and told me she knew exactly how I felt but that still gave me no right to attack someone. Since I tore out some of the girls hair, she cut my hair that day. It was awful.

The other girls continued making fun of her, embarrassing her and assaulting her whenever they could. Hermione becomes insecure about herself and turns into an introvert. She spends her free time in her bedroom reading books, drawing and writing her stories into a journal.

[Dec 7 / 1983] – 9 years old

I am going to begin this by saying I hate Claudia Bush. She's in my class. She laughs at me because I'm ugly. She pushes me because I'm tiny and weak. The other girls laugh at me because I cry. My dad told me to stop crying today. He said, and I quote: "there's a certain age for little girls to stop crying and that is now".

I don't believe him.

Claudia spit into my textbook today. My teacher yelled at me because she thought I did it. He wouldn't believe I am innocent. "Why would Claudia spit into your textbook, Hermione?", he asked. I don't know why she would have but she did. Claudia looked at me like she wanted to kill me, so I didn't say anything.

I know it was wrong and I should stand up for myself. But I feel like it wouldn't make a difference. I can't wait to get out of school... out of this stupid town. Mark my words, I'll leave as soon as I turn 16. So that is seven years... what is seven times 12? 84... 84 months left. I don't want to know how many days that is, that would be a frustrating number.

I'll go now. I need to help bake bread. I hate baking bread. I hate touching the sticky dough. But my grandma makes me. She knows I hate it. She makes me do it anyways.

Hermione W. (Weber)

That is her first journal entry. It's pretty sad on my opinion. It really helps me understand how she became the person she was later on in her life. She did enjoy school, just like me. Maybe I got that from her. Her classmates just made it hard for her to enjoy it thoroughly.

Just a few months later, she can stay home from school for two weeks. Like her brothers she also has to help her parents around the farm. Claudia didn't enjoy not seeing her and being able to harass her for the time being, but Hermione couldn't do anything about it. It was her fathers' decision. He took her out of school and gave her a new assignment around the farm every morning.

On the fourth day of her absence at school, she heard the little kittens crying in the old barn. She knew what was going to happen. The old cats were too fertile, and they couldn't afford feeding seven kittens. Some would be given away, but four of them must be gotten rid of.

"Hermione! Go down to the river and get rid of this bag", her father demands, handing her the potato sack holding the live animals.

It was cruel and completely against her will, but she had to do it. Reluctantly, she picks up the bag and starts walking down to the river. It was only a short walk and she made it there in about five minutes. I've been there once after my grandparents died and my mother decided to reconcile with her childhood memories. That was another hard day for her but we're going to talk about that later.

Her father usually just beats the kittens to death but it seems like he got tired of doing so. Last time he did it, he threw them into a bucket behind the barn and the next day some of them came back to life. One of her brothers hanged one of them a few months ago. It looked absolutely disgusting. Its neck grew longer with every day.

She holds the bag away from her body while walking. when she finally arrives at the river, her hands start shaking. She'd prefer going back home but her father would punish her if she didn't do like she was told. The last time she refused and asked him to let her brother do it he just said "If I wanted Joseph to do it I would have asked him. It's time to grow up and be a big girl. Do it"

Taking all her courage, she finally throws the bag into the river, the riptide instantly picking it up. She takes her time and cries about what she just did.

[May 21 / 1984] – 9 years old

I am a murderer.

Those poor kittens lived for two weeks until I murdered them. I feel sorry for them but who am I to pretend that'll make a change? They're dead. They'll never run around the grass again or feed on their mommys' breast.

My dad told me to stop crying like a baby. But I can't help but feel bad. Hurting someone who isn't remotely close to being as strong as you are is wrong. Those kittens didn't do anything. They would never hurt anyone. They were just unlucky no one said they'd want them within two weeks, now they're gone.

The other three aren't even confused about what happened to their siblings. They don't seem to care. Well, I do.

I killed a creature today – actually, make that four. I killed four creatures today.

And my dad wants me to go back to school on Monday. I really don't want to go. I honestly don't want to. I'm afraid Claudia will be even meaner. School's been hell.

I'm only happy about my birthday in a few weeks. That day marks the last day I need to go to school.

My brothers will bring my school report with home on their last day. I did really good this year. I wonder if anyone will notice. Last year no one did. My mum looked at it and nodded. She always expects me to do good. My dad asked me what I needed good grades for. He said it would be better to think about a job I want to pursue when I am older. I guess that is his way of saying he is proud of me and knows I can go places. Well, I am hoping that is the case.

Hermione W.