Nothing is more frustrating than seeing my mom morphed into a monster. She is not my real mom. When she morphed, a new pair of eyes came out, with new lips, a new hair, as an entirely different human. It was the first time I saw her very first kill. I was like a normal human, puked, cried, begged for her to stop as it was wrong in my eye.
But I was the wrong one for her. She saw the satisfaction on it. She ripped his torso apart, like a piece of cotton candy. I witnessed her doing it. It's not like I was tied or something, but my feet froze, and I couldn't move out of fear. I was there, standing like a doll, watching her having fun.
The worst thing about it, I was the reason of mom's altered personality.
A month after my sister's birth, mom was acting strange. She laughed at nothing, and she tore all of our family photos, she also burnt every last pieces of dad's stuff. It might be normal for a heartbroken person, but it worsened when she tried to commit suicide four times after that incident.
Luckily, I was always there to stop her. I might be scared of her new persona, but she is still my mom, her appearance was the only thing that reminds me of her, though.
Each day, she came out with dried blood from her new scar. She sliced her hand with a knife, but again I stop her. She also tried to jump from the second floor, but I was there. I wanted to cry, a big cry with scream of pain, which would be a perfect remedy for me. What just happened to my family? It was broken, destroyed and ruined. This family was a mistake in the first place. I was a sculpture of a mistake.
I could just commit suicide, just like what mom tried to do. But I didn't want to leave my sister. Another reason was dad. I had a hope that he would come back and we could start a new life. It was stupid, but I was just searching for any my reason to keep me alive.
I didn't go to school for a month, trying to babysit two people with leftover money from (former) mom and (former) dad's safes.
The school was calling my house of course, but I would directly hang the phone until the teacher started to visit my house. It was Miss Nancy, my English teacher. I opened the door to face her directly.
"Oh my god, Andra! What happened?" asked Miss Nancy. I shook my head. She must've been shocked by my super messy appearance, since I don't have that much time to help myself.
"Please, leave. We are fine here," I said with clear words.
"But you looked so unhealthy!"
"I'm all right." I said. I started to turn my back to close the door.
She took a peek at my half-closed door. I immediately slammed the door. No one should've known it. I was afraid. The only thing that she would find in my living room was blood. Mom's blood when she tried to hurt herself. I didn't even have any time to clean all of it. She kept cutting herself. Cleaning her mess was pointless.
Though she did try to hurt herself, she still breastfed my sister. My sister's name was Alska. Because mom said, she was the only love remained from all of her ruins. My sister would be the one who brought her happiness.
"Then why are you trying to kill yourself? You should've know what would happen to that baby if you're dead, right?." I asked.
"It is uncontrollable," she said. I was mesmerized by how natural she sounded. After all the bloody mess in the house, all of the problems, she just said it was uncontrollable. Fuck me.
Two months had been passed, and it had been third times the teachers came to my house. Though, after the third try, they stopped doing it all. I felt lonely, so lonely, but I didn't have any choice. I wished dad would never left, and it is all just a terrible joke. But, harsher reality hit me really hard, it was no joke, it is a terrible reality.
After these two months, I was the one who pulled the trigger to alter my mom. I was checking the terrace and found a thick mail inside it. Strange, we haven't had any new mail for nearly four months, and it did look suspicious. However, it was addressed to mom, so I just gave it to her.
I shouldn't have handed that letter to her. I SHOULD NOT. When she opened the letter, her hands suddenly trembled. She instantly shed a tear. I looked at the mail. It was only a pack of photos. All of the photos pictured the same man with a bunch of different women, they kissed, hugged, and fuck, all of them are in the photos. The man was a handsome Hispanic young man, with finely cut hair and tan skin. He was messing with many women. There was a description at the back of each photo, but the man name was always same. The man in the photo was Dio.
I reluctantly looked at mom. She clenched her fist and snatched the photos from my hand. She ran into the kitchen and took a knife. I quickly followed her to the kitchen, only to found my mom stabbing each photo again and again. She slit all of her finger, one by one, and poured the blood to each photo. She covered all the women face in the photo with blood.
"Mom…" I tried to reach her.
"THESE WHORES!"
"Mom… stop," I bit my lips anxiously. She was hurting herself, but I couldn't approach her, she had a knife.
"THESE WHORES STEAL DIO FROM ME!"
I tried to confirm what I just heard. Those women stole her boyfriend? No, mom's boyfriend was just a manwhore, a complete manwhore.
"Mom, you're wrong," I tried to reach her slowly, but she pointed the knife at me.
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN WRONG?! DIO WOULDN'T LEAVE ME!"
I have had enough of this, hearing her answer boiled my blood. She was stupid, so stupid. I clenched my fist and jumped to her. I didn't care about the knife, I punched mom in the face. She accidentally stabbed my hand with the knife, both of us now laid down on the floor, hurting each other.
"YOU FUCKING IDIOT! WHY CANT YOU SEE THE REALITY!" I screamed out of frustration, "HE IS A JERK! A FUCKBOY! A MANWHORE! HE CHEATED TO YOU! HE DIDN'T LOVE YOU!"
Mom was crying on the floor. "But I loved him…" she said. She picked one photo and kissed the man in the photo. I snatched it and ripped the photo apart.
"HE SHOULD'VE DIED! ALL MAN LIKE HIM SHOULD HAVE DIED," my throat started to get dry, but my frustration was not. I tore all of those photos until nothing left. "YOU'RE AN IDIOT!"
She stopped crying after it. She stared at the now torn photos. She was off for ten minutes. After that, she began to murmur unintelligibly. But I didn't care, she might murmur about her lover or her misfortune. I was worn out and hurt because of her crazy behavior. I stood while holding my left hand. The scar wasn't that bad, but it still hurt.
I went to my room and treated the wound by myself. The physical pain wasn't a problem for me, the problem was the wound in my heart. She was the one who said that her love is dead, but she loved this asshole like a prized totem. How long until she realized that she must move on?
It is still daylight, yet I found nothing exciting than locking myself, watching the leaves fell from my window. One by one fell from its trunk, just like my hope, all had fallen each time I had the slightest hope. The backyard was visible from my window. It was messy, grass grew wild, all the flowers were dead, and it was more like a marsh than a backyard.
I saw the reflection of myself in the mirror. I was worn out. My wavy hair was all tangled, just like hay. Zits scattered on my face. My body was thinner than before. The most noticeable spot was my eye bags. Probably because I cried so much, I also had less sleep than usual.
I lied down on the bed, thinking about how to escape. I could escape, run away from all of this and maybe start a new life. I could run away like dad, and I would make a new living by working with someone.
'That won't work,' I dismissed the idea of running away. It was impossible for me. Not because I couldn't, but I didn't want to leave my sister nor mother, they had suffered enough from dad's disappearance. I'm the only one who can save them.
I closed my eyes, wondering about another way to save my mom and sister. Yet, I only found a dead end. The dead end that separated me from dad and all of my previous wonderful life, I was stuck on the other side, and my feet crippled. No matter how hard I tried, nothing would change the fact that I was a caught by a bear trap.
The loud, constant sound of a mower in the backyard disturbed my sleep. I checked the clock on the table.
'Three in the morning?! Who the hell mows the grass at this hour,' I peeked at the window, only to found a slender figure mowing and already trimmed the wild grasses. The dim light from the backyard lamp showed the silhouette of a red haired woman. I immediately rushed to the backyard. I was surprised the moment I opened my door. My house suddenly became clean. No blood spotted around the living room, the floor had been mopped, and all the dim chandeliers became the brightest in the night.
I checked mom and my sister's room. It was all bright and tidy. The stinky odor had been gone. I saw my sister sleeping peacefully in the cradle. But I couldn't spot the presence of mom, could it be?
I slammed the backyard door. Yes, I found her. She rested her body after long hours of cleaning the backyard. She was sweaty, but not stinky. Accompanied by a dim light from the lamp above her, she looked like a different person. She treated the entire wound all by herself. She took a bath; I could see it from her fresh, wavy red hair. I stared at her, suspicious for the sudden initiatives. She smiled at me, her smile was so light, I couldn't feel the presence of her previous depression and shit.
"What are you doing, mom?" I asked, suspicious.
"I cleaned the house, I thought having you cleaning the house by yourself is pretty unfair," she said. Her voice, her voice was different, so-very-much different. She sounded like a whore to me, but I thought it'd be really seducing for men.
I saw no sign of depression or sadness. All of it vanished. She had a really warm aura as if she was a virgin. A kind of warm aura that I thought would make men bowed down on her. And what was with that lingerie, mowing the grass in the night with blood-red lingerie? I slept for a day, and something drastically changed.
"You know what, why don't we spend our precious hour at the dining table."
She passed me and left the backyard. An incredibly alluring sweet scent made me drunk for a sec. What kind of perfume she used? It felt too unreal. She was sweaty, but she had a pretty sweet scent around her body. Her scent would surely catch all the attention each time someone passed her.
The backyard had been drastically transformed into a normal one. Just like when Liss and Clara were here. The grass was nicely trimmed, half of the flowerpots had been planted with various seed from the storage. The nearly dead small trees around the backyard also had been watered, not to forget the fallen leaves from the silver maple tree was collected into one big pile. She did all of this in one night.
I joined mom at the dining table. She already undressed her lingerie, as she didn't have a single string on her body now. When I asked about it, she just grinned. She already shaved every single body hair. She also used the same perfume, but stronger, maybe because she took a bath just now. She asked me to cook something nice. I was still suspicious, but I followed her will. She said I should check the freezer. So I did.
At first, I didn't expect anything crazy, but the moment I opened the fridge, I instantly jumped back when I saw a dead dog with a severed head. I looked at my mom, terrified. She smiled at me with the lightest smile she had.
"What is this? What kind of sick joke is this!?" I asked. I held my heart, as it beat faster.
"It is no joke, Andra," mom opened the fridge. She took the head of the dog from the fridge, and then gauged its eyeball. She licked the eyeball like a tasty lollipop. I was disgusted. No, I was REALLY DISGUSTED. I held my mouth closed until I vomited on the sink.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" I screamed out of disgust and anger.
"Don't be so surprised. I was moved by your suggestion," she said, she giggled a little. She bit the eye on her finger. "Don't worry about the dog, it is a stray dog. And male, I've checked it."
"OH MY GOD, HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?!" I screamed again. My stomach crumbled out of disgust.
"Oh dear, I don't lose my mind. In fact, I recollected it," she closed the freezer and then threw the eye to the trashcan. She drew near me and caressed my cheek. "Thanks to you, I can finally wake up from my nightmare," she said, which only made me even more confused.
"I don't remember about waking you up or anything," the last thing I remember was, of course, sleeping like dead meat in my room.
"Oh yes, you did," mom took something from the cupboard above me. As I followed her hand, she took the knife that stabbed me before. My dried blood was still covering the tip of it. "Do you remember this knife?"
I nodded.
"Well, I just realized that I could grant you a wish," she said, "Do you remember when you said, all man like Dio must die? I granted you the wish of executing those cheaters. Those wicked cheater who hurt me. No, they hurt everyone. They have no right to live, and I will be the executor, I wont let them live peacefully."
She gazed at the blank wall. But she angrily punctured the kitchen stall with the knife, again, again, again. Each puncture left a deeper mark on the stall, her rhythm became stronger, more fierce, and dreadful. I could felt her anger, and I tried to make a space away from her.
"Mom- what are you doing?" I asked. Though, I could predict where all of this would lead.
"Haven't I told you already? I just granted you a wish." She chuckled, " It'd be wonderful if you can help me. We will kill them, destroy their happy life, make everyone around them suffer."
"The only thing that I wished is you to be a sane person…" I trembled in fear and sadness. I already knew what it'd be. But I kept denying every possibility of it. I couldn't be, it shouldn't be…
"I am sane, well, look at me now. I'm not some depressed shithead now, right?" she looked so satisfied with her current condition. I only saw more depression. She just tried to conceal it with anger.
"You shouldn't be like this, I won't let--"
Before I finished my word, I felt a cold touch on my neck. She moved really fast. At a single blink, she already pinned her knife at my neck. She slowly pressed the tip of it. I could feel a drop of blood coming out of my vein.
"Listen, you worthless shit. I'm being easy on you. You'll tag with me, whether you want it or not," she said coldly. Mom was dead serious. Her fixed gaze pierced me, just like what I saw at that night. "Now, do I make it clear?"
"Mom, you're just stressed, let's go-"
She took a fork with her other hand and stabbed my finger with it. I screamed out of pain. I saw the fork pierced my middle and ring finger. "Now, do I make it clear?" she asked me again.
I nodded. I didn't have any choice, did I? The pain in my fingers stung. She pulled the fork out of my fingers. I gripped my finger tightly. It was damn painful. She giggled again. She then headed to her room. I sat on the couch with double Band-Aids covering my fingers. The pain was unbearable. She thrust my fingers with the fork. It was no child play.
The sound of doorbell surprised me. I saw the clock, five in the morning. Weird, who would visit at this hour, and by the way, who would visit us after all? I walked to the front door, with my hand aching badly. Before I touched the door handle, mom stopped me. She still didn't wear anything and brought the knife before. The perfume on her made me dizzy. She came back with her warm aura, not the cold-hearted bitch aura before.
"I'll open the door," mom said. I observed her, confused.
"You're naked."
"That's the point. Now, go and put this knife under the cushion," she commanded. She gave me her knife. I reluctantly accepted it, knowing that declining her order will be another pain for me. I hid the knife under the cushion. She instructed me to hid on the second floor while watching what would happen next. I knew it wouldn't be a beautiful watch.
Mom opened the door, to my astonishment – it was Mr. Dowle who visited us in the morning. I was curious about his business up in the morning. However, the first thing he did was covering his eyes when he saw mom naked.
"Jesus, I'm sorry Mrs. Daslove. I don't know that you're – naked," he said. I could hear it perfectly from here. Mom didn't seem to be ashamed. On the contrary, she seemed to be aroused.
"I'm doing it on purpose. For you, Mr. Dowle," she said. She held his hand and led him to go inside. Though he resisted a little, he actually followed her. "And please, call me Alenna. I want it to be more... intimate."
She led him to the sofa, where I hid the knife under the cushions. I wished that my guess were wrong. I hoped it'd be really, really wrong. Mom sat next to Mr. Dowle who was still closing his eye with his hand.
"What was the urgent problem, Mrs. Daslo- Alenna," asked Mr. Dowle. Mom smirked.
"It was urgent, Mr. Dowle. You're the only one who can help me," mom said. She had her voice sweeter than usual. She tried to seduce Mr. Dowle. But I had a slight hope that Mr. Dowle would not fall into that trap. He was religious if I could say.
"So, how can I help you? And, please, cover up your body. It's inappropriate," he asked. She, of course, didn't follow Mr. Dowle's request. Mom closed the distance between her and Mr. Dowle. While I saw Mr. Dowle being uncomfortable, so did I. Mom slowly reach Mr. Dowle's finger that covered his eye. She leaned her naked chest into Mr. Dowle's shoulder.
"This is inappropriate, Alenna. I'll leave-" Mr. Dowle was pinned down by mom. She used her hand to held Mr. Dowle's torso. She sat on top of him, facing him and putting all of her body weight on Mr. Dowle. She locked Mr. Dowle with her leg crossing behind his back.
Mom's right hand was caressing Mr. Dowle's Face. I thought Mr. Dowle would just brush Mom's hand off his face, but he slowly let his finger loosened, the only thing that stopping him was his closed eyes.
While mom's right hand kept caressing Mr. Dowle face, from his cheek, thin mustache, and then his lips. "Come on, Mr. Dowle. You understand what is my urgent condition, right? Why won't you help me to relieve it?"
Slowly, Mr. Dowle started to open his eyes. He was overwhelmed by desire, as his hand tried to cover his crotch. He closed his eyes again when mom kissed his lips, a long kiss with their tongue played each other's, and that kiss periodically became a lust-ridden saliva fest. I could sense the warm atmosphere in this house. They were both enjoying it, and Mr. Dowle is already vulnerable. Mom made her first move. She used her left hand to grab the knife under the cushions. My eyes widened, Mom raised the knife and pointing at Mr. Dowle's forehead.
"NO!" spontaneously, I screamed when Mom stabbed Mr. Dowle with the knife. Mr. Dowle's eyes widely open for a minute, and then it was half-closed, as the knife had been planted on his forehead, with blood leaked and covering his face. Mom ended the kissing section. She spit some saliva out from her mouth.
"Disgusting kiss," she said. She pulled the knife out from Mr. Dowle's forehead. She then stabbed his face again, just in case if he was still alive.
I saw it. I saw with my very own eyes. My fear burst and froze my body. I sat on the stair, trying to not look at the corpse below me. Oh god, what did I see?! Intoxicated by fear, I tightly closed my mouth, because vomit gurgled in my mouth. I even coughed while holding it. I tried to swallow it, but eventually, I vomited on the floor.
My eyes became blurry for a second, my body felt weak, and I fell to the floor. Mom saw me throwing up on the stair. She advanced to me with the same knife and fresh blood dripping from its point. Fresh blood covered her fingers, she smirked, her sharp eyes were targeting me like a hungry predator.
I couldn't hold my strength anymore. Slowly, my consciousness departed away, and it is all replaced by blurry colors of red and orange. I fainted.
****
'Alright, here we go.'
I knock the door in this blue terrace of a perfectly blue house. The doorbell seems to be broken long time ago. I knock again until I hear a hoarse voice from inside. I bring this self-made ginger cookie. It'll be my first visit since the last time I visited this house in the storm of seventh of August.
Someone opened the door, an old woman who is all alone after her husband left without any trace in the dawn. She smiles at me, the same old gentle smile. I wonder if her smile will stay after she knows the truth, which will never be revealed.
"Hi Mrs. Dowle, long time no see," I give her a usual greeting.
"My, is it… Andra? I haven't seen you for… years. Come in, dear," she reaches my hand and leads me to her house. My eyes restlessly gaze inside the old house. It's still the same house as the last time I visited this place. Maybe small things changes, like, everything is a bit dusty now. Since Mrs. Dowle is too old to clean the house alone. The aroma of baked almond pie and vanilla is still the same. Even my photo is still hanging on the wall. I did take a picture with them when I was just a kid. They loved me so much back then.
I sit on the small chair with two patterned cushions. The cushion cover is a handmade one. It's really neat, with a flower pattern made by knitwork. There is a medium-sized glass cabinet near the kitchen, full of kitten dolls with various colors, patterns, but all in the same size. On the small table beside it, there is an unfinished kitten doll. I remember when Mrs. Dowle gave me a kitten doll each time I visited this house. Will she give me a new one? I've always missed that time.
I smell a nice strong aroma of almond pie from the kitchen. I go to the kitchen, and then I immediately help Mrs. Dowle to slice the almond pie into pieces. The same almond pie with honey and a glass of warm milk, nothing changes. I bring the almond pie and warm milk to the table.
Mrs. Dowle is not as agile as she used to be, but she is still lively. She sits with me on the chair. She takes the unfinished kitten doll on the table and begins working on it. She is still doing her old habit. She looks at me and then smiles while doing her knitting.
"Is there something wrong, Mrs. Dowle?" I ask. She shakes her head.
"I'm just glad that you come," she says. "I haven't had any visitor, other than the police and my son."
I vaguely remember her son. He is already nineteen-years-old when I visited Dowle's house. He left shortly after that, attending the college. I only remember him as a polite man, since he is as welcoming as his parents when I'm here.
I feel uncomfortable to talk about Mr. Dowle. Since the official report stated that he is 'missing.' The police had come to my house and questioned mom about Mr. Dowle. They said they were just gathering some information. Mom answered them with a good acting, stating that she didn't know about Mr. Dowle, since she stayed in the house for three months, a solid reason to clear out the suspicion.
"Umm… does the police get any clues to find Mr. Dowle?" I ask hesitantly.
Mrs. Dowle sighs heavily, she stops her knitting and drinks the warm milk. She looks very troubled, but she hides it by smiling to me. It just gives me more guilt for not telling the truth to her.
"I hope the police will find him soon. But – nothing, let's eat the almond pie, Andra," she tries to avoid the topic. I nod. Again, she smiles at me. How many smiles will you give to me? It'll bring me to an even bigger guilt-ridden feeling. I reluctantly eat the almond pie. The tastes of almond and honey burst in my mouth, just like the memories of six years ago burst in my head.
Sweet, sweet memories of my wonderful childhood, where all the bad things never happened. Sweet, sweet memories of my old family, where mom and dad was a couple from a magazine cover. Sweet, sweet memories, where I found the joy of living by simply looking at the family photo in my room.
I know I have to move on. But I've always missed the old me. My laugh stuck on that time and will never be recovered.
"How about your mom and your sister? I hope everything goes well to them," Says Mrs. Dowle. "I haven't met your mother since I helped her giving birth to your sister," she looks at me, pitifully. "I'm sorry about your dad, I'm terribly sorry."
I smile to her. I do what she did to me earlier, giving a fake smile and pretending that nothing bad happened. "We're doing just fine, Mrs. Dowle," I lied. "About dad – I think he is doing fine… somewhere."
We talk about various things until the evening forced us to stop our long conversation. I give her my ginger cookies as a gift, and then I leave her house. Before I leave the terrace, she stops me and tells me to wait for a second.
Mrs. Dowle comes out with two knitted kitten dolls. The first one is a pink kitten doll and the second one is a white-blue doll. "I want to give you this," she hands out the kitten dolls to me. It is still the same doll. Why does she give me this? It'll just give me another reason to cry.
"You don't need to, Mrs. Dowle."
"No- No, I insist. Andra, I never give the kitten doll other people, not even my grandchild," says Mr. Dowle with her eyes get teary, "I want you to have it. And the other doll is for your sister."
I look at the kitten dolls. She does this to me, even though I never visited her for the past six years. "How about the dolls inside your house? Those stored in the glass cabinet?"
"It's all yours. I made all of it. Every day, I wait for you to come and take it, one by one," she says. She cries, the old woman who never changes and still live in the past. We miss the same thing, our previous happy life.
I hug her with all of my might. I don't cry, just like what I promised to grandpa, but I hold my tears so much. Mrs. Dowle strokes my hair gently. Her tears stream down to my shoulder. She misses me so much. So do I, I miss her more than I can imagine. She gives me the feeling of mother's love that I never received before.
"I'll get my kitten doll, each day, every day," I say. I don't say that to promise her. I say that to myself because I don't want to lose every second of this feeling.
Mrs. Dowle wipes her tears. I wave my hand as I leave. I ride my bicycle with two kitten dolls in the front basket. Alska will be so happy to have a new cat doll to befriend her previous one, Mrs. Branna. I park the bicycle near the terrace. I open the door to find my sister playing with her doll.
"Welcome back, Big Andra!" she greets me, "Whoa! Kitten doll, may I have one?"
"Of course, you can pick one," I say, she eagerly approaches me, she observes the dolls and picks the white-blue doll (I like the white-blue one, though). Alska hugs her new friend. "I'll name her, Mr. Fridge!"
"Mr. Fridge?" I ask. It is a weird name for a doll.
"Yeah! Because it's white and blue, just like those weird big dolls in mom's fridge!" she says innocently. White-blue dolls in mother's fridge--!
"DID MOM BRING YOU INSIDE HER FRIDGE?!" I ask angrily. I realize what she means just now. It's the corpse inside mother's chamber, the white-blue dead body whose blood has been drained. How the hell is she able to see it?
"N-no! I see mom forgot to close the door before, so I look inside her fridge. It is weird, Big Andra. I see many scary mannequins there and-," she stops talking after seeing my face getting red, she is frightened with my anger.
"HOW MANY TIMES MUST I TELL YOU NOT TO GO THERE!" I scold her with terrible anger. She closes her eyes and hides behind her new doll when I raise my hand.
I hold myself to not hit her. I've hit her before, she was then, frightened and crying with a visible mark on her left cheek. I drop my hand. I feel awful as an older sister, but she never listens to me.
"Why are you so mean!?" Alska sobs, she runs to her room, presumably locking it.
I let a deep sigh drown me into regret. I climb the stair, still holding my new doll. Great, what a good sibling I am, hitting my sister for something she doesn't know.
I take a deep breath. I'll cook something nice for Alska and apologize later. I step in my room. I have plenty of dolls in my drawer. Well, I only own few small dolls. I already gave the big one to Alska.
I put my new doll with another kitten dolls. I specially separate the doll Mrs. Dowle gave me from the other. Since she is the only one who gives it out of love, not because she is obliged to, like my mom and dad before.
I wonder, will Mrs. Dowle still smile at me if she knows the truth about her husband? Mr. Dowle who was very religious and good man kissed a succubus passionately. Her ever-faithful husband she truly loves. I doubt that. If she knows that her husband fell into mother's trap, and the fact that I watched all of it, while doing absolutely nothing. I bet she'd go furious.
I'm definitely involved with the murder of Mr. Dowle. I mean, I'm the one who put the knife under the cushions, even though it was mother's instruction. All of those moments always haunting my dream every night, from dad who left us behind, mom became a monster and the murder of Mr. Dowle. I know everything, yet I'm here, pretending to be innocent.
I looked at the ceiling, imagining about the non-existent. Happiness.