|
|
|
“Hey f*****t, come get dinner!”
My father's voice echoed through the halls, sliding under my door to ring in my ears.
His loving words finally tore me from my work. Instinctively I hunched over my papers, protecting them from the sneaky eyes that weren't there. Once my paranoia had subsided, I placed the top of the desk back into place, hiding my project from all. It was the one thing that would finally earn me respect, the only thing I had left in life.
I crept out of my room, letting the door fall in place behind me. Slowly, I made my way down the narrow hallway, regretting every step. The walk seemed shorter than ever today, and it took less than a minute to reach the kitchen. The moment my foot met the linoleum floor, the room went silent and all eyes turned to me. I felt the intensity of eight eyes shoot through me, tearing apart my insides.
The harsh gazes followed me as I walked around the table, sitting softly in my broken chair, refusing to return a single glare. My plate was already fixed. Shooting a quick glance around the table, I noticed that, once again I was given a considerable amount less than the rest of the family. My mother had mentioned before, this was because I was fat, and needed to be on a diet. It was just because I wasn't worth the trouble of making extra food.
They said grace, my dad never taking his eyes off me. Those eyes burned with hate. Everyone's did, but with him it was so much worse. I felt naked, I felt disgusting, I felt so ashamed.
Dinner passed so slowly. I stared down at my colorless food, pushing it around my plate, and tuning out the cheery conversation bouncing around the room. I knew if I spoke up the mood would be ruined, and then would come the looks. Maybe even the name calling. It had been a little scarce today, and more was certain to come. I never got one free day. I was every insult the less-than-creative mind could come up with, and I of course, would never accomplish anything. That was the biggest one. No matter what I did, I would never accomplish anything. Everyone had said it at least once. But that was the reason behind my project. I was going to prove everyone wrong. I could accomplish anything I wanted. Anything.
My thoughts were blown away once again as the family got up, one by one and went to watch TV. More fun I was never to be a part of. No, my job was to clean up the kitchen and hide away in my room, until they called me out again. I had been allowed to drop out of school the moment I turned sixteen, and of course I accepted. School was never going to take me anywhere, and we all knew it.
The kitchen was spotless in less than fifteen minutes. Practice truly does make perfect. I quickly fled to the comfort of my room, to bask in the warmth of loneliness.
I flopped down on what I must call my bed, though it is far from the truth. A few thin layers of foam had been set on a wooden board. Honestly, I sometimes felt as though I were in a concentration camp.
I'm not entirely sure when my family began to hate me, but I believe it was at birth. If my parents had the money back then, I wouldn't even be here today. They had wanted me gone from the moment they knew I existed, but to get rid of babies was more expensive than thought. I am alive, right now only because a man chose my mom as his target one night. He forced her down and gave me to her. The man who torments me daily is not my real father. My dad, was never found. It seems the family was unable to move on with their lives after I was born. My father hates me, because I'm not his. My mother sees the rapist's face in mine. My older brother, and my younger sister hate me because me parents do, because it's what seems right to them. And from my family, the hatred spreads like a disease. No one can tolerate me for more than an hour. But all this hate, this red hot, burning hate, it fueled my plan. It helped bring my imagination to life to develop the most elaborate scheme I have ever heard of. And that scheme, was nearly complete.
I had spent nearly a year pulling the ends together and making sure there was not a single loophole. I had checked it countless times and nothing seemed to be able to bring my plan down.
I sat down at my desk, lifting the top to expose my stacks of papers. In the middle of the chaos was a thick manila folder, containing the full summary of the rest of my life. I pulled this out, and let the desk return to normal. I prepared myself and began to read. It took hours to recalculate and double check everything, and I didn't get to rest until morning, but it was with the satisfaction that my work was foolproof, and I was ready to begin.
Through some miracle, I was able to sleep nearly all day, and only had to bear through dinner. I sat down among my family, knowing what was going to happen that night, what was going to happen to them. It almost had me laughing at times, because I knew that every nasty look and every horrid word was going to be regretted later on.
The hours seemed to drag on and on forever, as I waited and reread my plot for the last time. Once I was certain I would never forget a detail, I burned every last shred of evidence that would lead anyone to me.
I realize there are the squeamish few who would rather be spared the details of that night. I guess I shall oblige, and make it short and sweet.
I killed them all that lovely night. One by one. I let them all know that they deserved it, though I blessed each of their souls. Hopefully they found their way to Hell, because that's where they belonged. And from that night, I have accomplished many things. Much more than anyone ever thought I could. People tell tales of me to scare the children, to keep them in their beds. I've done more things than the devil himself, and I'm still not near the end. I have finally accomplished something, and it's only the beginning.
 Alice Ate The Cake · Tue Sep 08, 2009 @ 02:54am · 0 Comments |
|
|
|
|
|
