CONTENT ADVISORY

***

"Go. Just live your life. Before I change my mind," I bark at him.

The unbearable pain in my palm alerts me that the sharp edged porcelain is sinking deeper into my flesh. But I do not dare to let go.

He keeps staring at me. I can see a thousand emotions brewing in his mind, through his glistening eyes. It's so tempting. I'm the victim here. Why is he the one crying? It's so tempting. The idea of making him feel what the real pain is tempting me. But I shouldn't.

I turn on my heels. If I see another tear slide down his face, I might do it. So I turn around to go. But then I feel his strong grip on my forearm, stopping me in my tracks. I freeze in place. His touch is cold. He turns me around. I'm seeing his pathetic face, again. His eyes are burning red like the fire of hatred within him. They stare right into my soul.

"Say you're sorry. Say you didn't mean it," he mumbles. His voice breaks at the last few syllables.

I chuckle. He's funny. "Sorry? I never was. Never will be."

He snatches the white ceramic shard from me. And he stabs me.

"But I will. I will forever be sorry."

*************

It all started with a fabulous idea that formed in Mrs.Quidcine's pea-sized brain. She had thought it would be a good idea to humiliate my poor father. Because he had asked for an extra bowl of soup that night. To feed my sick brother.

She knew no morals. So I taught her some. She knew no pain. So I let her feel it firsthand.

I killed each and every employee of her little hotel. Each and every one who came forth to guard her. With my trusty ceramic shard. It was from the expensive Chinese porcelain plate Mrs. Quidcine had hit my father in the head with.

I had always told him that she was a witch. And a wench, if you asked from the tailor and the fisherman. He said we could not afford better. If it were not for Quidcine's kindness, we would be beggars. I saw no difference. Even with her so-called kindness, we were still beggars—ragged clothes, empty bellies, and the little money we got after doing all the work at her seven-story mansion. I didn't believe that to be so luxurious.

A slice to the neck had always been so satisfying. Blood oozing out as the carotid artery severed. Eyes rolling back as I hit them in the head. Ten times stronger than Quidcine hit father. Doubling over in pain as my murderous plate shard cut their bawls.

Mr. Quidcine should not have been involved in this. I knew he hated his wife with the same passion as I did. So why would he even care? Poor old man got his whitened head painted in crimson tonight. Same fate for Quidcine's Karen sisters. They deserved it. For laughing as their witch of a sister humiliated my father.

I had the time of my life seeing the pain in Mrs.Quidcine's eyes. Hearing her scream for life. Run around like a monkey caught its tail on fire, commanding every human she saw to get rid of me. As if they could.

I didn't have it in my mind to throw her three-months-old out of a window. From the seventh story. If she did not want it, she should not have thrown the tiny thing at me. As if I was the devil and her baby was the ultimate sacrifice she would do to get her wills supplied.

I had never once really wanted to jump into their massive pool. Even on a hot summer day, drained out of energy with no food, no sleep and still biding her shitty business with no break. Even when that crystal clear lake shone under the bright sun. But that night I had the urge to dive deep into it. Feel the cool water on my skin. Smell the blood mixed in it as it turned into crimson with all the bodies floating on the surface. It was a sight to see.

The only thing I feel sorry about is Wish. I think I left a very bad impression on my crush. That I'm a monster. Like Quidcine had screamed as I hit her head on the brickwall in the backyard. Unless he would not have stabbed me to death. A shame I could not win his heart. He was such a nice young man. He was kind, was always by my side. I bet his mom was a good one. Unlike Mrs.Quidcine, his bitch of stepmom. He did not deserve to see all that blood.

I know I'm not going to heaven but I did not know hell was this bright. My eyes ache. Even when they're squeezed shut it feels like I'm staring at blaring headlights. I want to look around but my eyelids are too heavy to open.

Wait. What was that? Did I just hear someone calling my name?

*************

"Madeline... Madeline can you hear me?" He's calling me. Ain't he?

I slowly open my eyes only to get blinded for a few seconds. It's so bright in here. Where am I? A ceiling with a faded painting of angels from heaven greets my light abused eyes.

"Madeline..."

Wish. 

He is right beside me, his ocean blue eyes trained on me. He looks sad. I could feel his hot breath fanning my cold skin. His fingers intertwined with my dirty blonde locks. The couch feels plush and luxurious below me. But my belly hurts so bad.

"Wi...sh..."

"Madeline. I'm here."

***

A/N : Okay hear me out. True it is under the 'I lived through this' section but I DID NOT MURDER anyone! It was a dream I had last night. Not the exact dream, a re-imagined version cause I don't usually remember my dreams. I only remember the best parts. No, the father figure in my dream was not my father in real life. It was my first time seeing that man. No, there are no Quidcines around here, not even a neighborhood aunt that I hate. Same goes for the seven story mansion. Sadly not even a Wish that I can crush on. But I had so much fun writing this.