Chapter Text
July 19th, 2001
Today was a happy day. Why, dear diary? Because I remembered I don’t have school for another month! Also, I learned a new curse word that I am going to use. Bitch yes! Like heck yes but cooler!
My new friend doesn’t like it when I say that word, though. It makes me kind of sad. I told my parents about it and my dad said to not listen when others tell you what to say. So I guess you could say I have an angel and a devil on my shoulder. One is telling me not to curse and the other says… bitch yes.
August 10th, 2001
I don’t want to start school.
I’m scared. And I don’t have anyone to help me with my homework anymore.
My new friend says I am weird for not having a dad anymore. How can I tell her that its not my fault? I just wanted somebody to play with.
Does it matter if I only have a mom?
September 16, 2001
I hate my school. It’s really smelly and the boys stink even more than the bathroom after Sally goes in her litter box. I got in trouble for calling Mark a bitch. He didn’t know what that word meant and so I told him it was a bad word. He started crying and told the principal.
Mom got really mad at me, so I cried, too.
But I don’t get it. He deserved to be called that because he was mean to me. That was fair. If he didn’t want to be called a mean word, he wouldn’t have called me funny names. It makes me angry.
April 13th, 2006
God, my life is falling apart. I can’t believe I picked this stupid thing up. As if its a better alternative to actually talking to people.
I mean, I guess you could argue that it is, because nobody I turn to wants to give me anything but a disgusted look on their face. I hate this.
God, I hate my life.
And I can never-
You cringed, shutting the contents of the diary closed, where they would hopefully never again see the light of day. The thought of throwing it away had crossed your mind, because the book hadn’t even been filled past halfway. It wasn’t important to you.
But you restrained yourself. You were here for one thing and one thing only, and it required your complete and undivided attention. The book was set down, back on your perfectly made bed, which had been made for the past two years. It was good to be back, even if it was only for a fleeting moment.
It was extraordinarily lucky that your bedroom window had been unlocked. Which was strange, because during your time in the house you remembered that the window was always locked. But you shrugged, not caring who had been in your room or not. After all, that was going to be the least of your worries before the night was over.
You were going to have blood on your hands. And what worried you the most is if the owner of said blood would wake up or not. Causing noise would result in a catastrophic failure. Everything you had been planning would crumble and it would all be because you were too arrogant of some very minor detail that you were paranoid of missing. Maybe you would forget to leave your window unlocked when you exited the house. That would set up an entire row of dominoes, with that one simple flaw bringing the entire work to a screeching halt. They could suspect it was you because who else would go through your room. Check where you were last night. See that you had no alibi. The police would be on your ass, and..
Forcing down the lump in your throat, you shook your head and rid yourself of those thoughts. No time for distractions.
You gripped your dagger and opened the door, slowly. Even though your stepfather was a heavy sleeper, your thirteen year old brother was not. But this was all for him. Him and your mom, who had slowly given up on trying to have a happy family. Something she had always wanted.
Damn it.
This was all Chris’ fault. Your useless, pathetic, hopeless failure of a stepfather. You’d be killing him that night, and if you get caught doing so, at least you’d have relief knowing that he was gone.
Little noise was made by your feet dragging along the carpet on your way down the hall. Beads of sweat dripped down your spine. Every sound made sent you jerking your head in all directions, looking for someone who was awake. Maybe you were simply going crazy.
The journey of five feet felt like a lifetime before your hand reached the other doorknob. Cold metal against your clammy palm.
You turned it, inching the door open inch by inch until you could squeeze through. A lamp was lit in the corner, giving you a clear look at Chris’ face. Ugly and stuck in a permanent scowl. Years of hate you had been building up burned at your fingers, reddening your face with anger and shaking your entire body. It was his fault you had to kill him. He was a horrible excuse for a father, for a man. This is what he deserved.
You put the knife to his throat, wanting to close your eyes but finding yourself unable to look away.
You hated him. God, you hated him. Hated. Hated. Hated! Hated! Hated!
You blinked, and the handle of a knife stuck out of his chest. He lay there, his snoring silenced by your blade and his life ended by your hands. Powerful was the only word you could use to describe that moment. That, and maybe a bit hysterical. What if you regretted it? Like chopping off all your hair. There was nothing you could do about it. But instead of it being able to grow back, his grave would only grow colder and colder. With the guilt weighing down on your heart.
You needed to leave. Now.
There was a piercing gaze on the back of your neck. A whisper containing your name was spoken. Jacob was awake, wasn’t he?
“What.. you.. I…” your brother was at a loss for words, mouth moving rapidly with only a few words being decipherable.
“Jacob,” you uttered. “Please, you don’t understand. This was for your own good, I only wanted to..”
“You killed him!”
He had a phone in his hand, ready like a weapon. There wasn’t a way to explain this to him. He wouldn’t understand how hard it was for you to bear the thought of him being hurt in any way by Chris. That was all over. He was safe, even if he didn’t feel that way at the moment.
“I know. But I need you to calm down. He wasn’t a good father, I need you to know that-”
“Stay away from me!”
You had been stepping closer to him. He was scared of you. So you stopped.
“I’m sorry! I just thought that it would be easier,” you said, voice faltering. He was afraid, and you couldn’t bear to see him like that.
“Easier?” His lip trembled, and you could only watch as he slowly backed away, dialing a number on the phone. Beep. Beep. Beep.
Wait.
“Jacob, put the phone down!” You didn’t mean to raise your voice, but it happened anyway. You didn’t even notice. Jacob did. He let out a shriek, sprinting to the other side of the house where you came closely behind him. You had to pry that phone out of his hands, even if he felt hurt by it. He would understand after you explained it to him.
The door of his room slammed.
“JACOB! PLEASE! OPEN THE DOOR!”
You banged on the door that separated the two of you, one cowering and the other desperate. Fear overcame all of your senses, You trembled, almost falling to the floor as your knees grew weak.
Cheek pressed to the door, you let out a long exhale.
“I’m sorry,” was all you could muster. But it didn’t help the situation. At this rate, the police would be here any second now, especially with the house being so close to the police station.. Shit, you couldn’t breathe. You had forgotten.
You spent so long teaching yourself how to breathe again that you had forgotten about the current situation.
Breathe. Come on.
Even as a yell came from beside you, which you had chosen to ignore.
Deep breaths.
Even as you were forced to your feet and god knows what else. You just couldn’t remember how to breathe.
Tears, full of salt and regret flowed freely down your face as you found yourself stuck in the back of a police cruiser.
Why did this have to happen to you? It wasn’t fair. You only wanted to protect your family from the abuse they had to suffer through. Was that so awful? It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right.
It was what Chris deserved. That was that, and it should be viewed as such. But to anyone watching you through their judging lens through the media, you were going to be nothing but a killer.