Inherited Sin

Thought's of a killer

My sister was found curled up, in a little pool of blood. His will be splattered all over. Her headstone is heavy, grey and shaped like a heart with swirls of pink. Damn girly girl. I’d say a prayer but God gives me no audience. I don’t wait for him; I do what needs to be done. It’s why I don’t fit in.

Outside her house darkness has fallen, I embrace it. It’s no stranger to me, in fact it comforts me like a quilt. Nature, sensing my intent has gone silent; it is a sign of respect for all species. The hedges and shrubs shrink away as I approach.

I sense eyes on me and turn, four little faces smile at me.  I inspect the still images on the fridge. Her will says they belong to me; John, Paul, Ringo and George. I snicker, probably not their names but I’m not going for Aunt Caretaker of the year. I’m here for… him. I stare at a picture of their father.

BAM!

Something or someone fell. I pause, I’m not shaken; I expect, I welcome getting caught. It means I don’t have to keep my passed down brood, no matter what my mother says.

He put her things in a box, a big box in the middle of the hallway upstairs. I glance through it and see a weight, its pink but it’s a good size and has a fatal mass to it. It’ll work and it seems fitting for the counterblow. I push open the bedroom door. My skin pulses as I see him and… my mother.

“I told you, you’re keeping the kids,” she looks at me crossed and steps over his lifeless body.

I head back down the stairs thinking, what the hell do I know about raising kids.