It was shockingly easy to push Olivia off the balcony.
Her teeth flashed like a row of perfectly white pearls as she tumbled over the edge, her mouth opened wide in a despairing scream. I always thought her dying cry was the prettiest thing. Her huge brown eyes seemed to ask, why? Even to her final moments.
First her coppery-brown curls vanished from sight. Then her flailing, cream-coloured hands. Then the sea-green silk of her dress, and at last the emerald-crusted slippers she'd bought for the Count's Christmas Ball, all lost in a merciless free-fall.
I knew how she'd afforded those slippers. I knew why Count Carlisle had invited her, a servant, to the Christmas Ball. With that final look, I saw just a flicker of suspicion in her pretty features--
She knows I know.
A surge of electric euphoria shot through me.
Finally, I thought. Finally, those hateful eyes are gone.
I peered over the stone parapets. Far below, lost in the rocky forest, Olivia's green dress was tangled and tattered, her neck twisted at an unnatural angle. Red blood pooled around her body. Even from so high up, I could tell she was dead.
Warm satisfaction rose in my chest. I scarcely dared to breathe. I'd never killed a person before, so I hadn't known if I could do it. The fear of the act had almost paralyzed me. Now that I'd done it, it was just as I'd suspected.
Why had the act of killing a person seemed any more important than stabbing a cat or a squirrel? Or even squishing a bug?
I don't feel guilty at all.
YOU ARE READING
A Servant's Sincere Mistake
Fantasía*This will be a relatively short novella, and will update irregularly as I write in weird intervals. This is an experiment for me, writing a villainous/amoral protagonist. Also THIS WILL BE DARK, so flee oh ye faint of heart* Description: Vois kno...
