Moonlit+Tears

Alone at last in my soft room. My special jacket is a bit tight but I cannot complain. They have always said I'm crazy, I have to disagree. What I did was not insanity; I killed because of pure need. Once you hear my story I'm sure you will agree.

  I had a troubled childhood, my father was a drunk, my mother was kind but my father murdered her in a drunken rage when I was small. When I turned eighteen my father was going to have me married to a rich gentleman down the block. I had never met him and I certainly didn't want to marry him. My first thought was to run. But what would I do? Where would I go? I could not run. Telling my father was my last civilized idea. When I informed my father that I would not marry the gentleman he struck me and shouted.   "YOUNG WRETCH!!! AFTER ALL I HAVE DONE FOR YOU! ALL YOU CAN DO IS GETTING OUT OF MAKING SOME MONEY!" My cheek stung and my head throbbed with rage. How dare he use me for money! That awful man didn't deserve to live. Why didn't I run? I should have run while I had the chance. But I knew what I had to do. He would never hit me, or hurt me ever again. My plan was simple. I would wait until father would never suspect it. On the night my mother died. He always gets drunk every year on that day. It wouldn't take long because my mother died on Tuesday. A glance at the calendar, Monday, December second. He always goes to the bar on that day. I spent most of this cold Monday wandering down the long hallways of my home. I walked ever so calmly and silently. I passed my father, he said my name.   "Alina."   "Yes father?"   "Your mother would be disappointed in you,” he grumbled. I couldn't believe it, he brought my mother into this, the woman he murdered! I choked back tears and clenched my fists.     "Well at least I'm not a RAVING DRUNK!!" my voice was as sharp as a blade and colder than ice.      "HOLD YOUR TONGUE UNGRATEFUL CHILD!!" He shouted with madness in his dark cruel eyes. He slapped me across his face. I fell, crumpled on the cold wood floor. He stormed up the stairs and locked himself in his bedroom like a spoiled child that didn't get what he wanted. Tears rolled down my cheeks and splashed onto the cold kitchen floor the lanterns were dim, only illuminating a small space in a soft yellow glow. I pushed myself into a sitting position. My eyes stung with tears. I hated him, I hated him so much. Though I wanted to thrust a knife right to his chest, right into his black heart. But the time would come, I couldn't do it tonight. It had to be done tomorrow, the day he murdered my mother that would be the day he would pay for everything he has done.   I had to drag myself up the stairs and into my so-called "room". It was about the size of a walk in closet with a small window on the far wall covered by a sheet to pass as a curtain, and a single shelf by the mattress on the floor. It was almost pitch black. I fumbled for my box of matches to light the candle on the shelf. Right as I was about to light the match something caught my eye, it was coming from behind the curtains. I unlace my shoes and set them at the foot of the bed. I took one long stride to the window. I wrapped my fingers around the sheet and pulled it back, and there it was. The moon, full and bright. It lit the room in a cool bluish light. I stood in the light. I finally felt welcome, and loved. The night welcomed me, the stars understood me, the moon loved me, and the night sky was my friend. I stumbled backwards and sat upon my bed. I closed my eyes and cried. My moonlit tears hit the floor, and I cried myself to sleep. <span style="line-height: 19.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"> <span style="line-height: 19.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"> Sunlight streamed through the window, I slowly stood up. As I was walking down the hall I passed a large mirror and froze. I looked at myself. Long, dark brown hair that was all frazzled. My brown dress was all wrinkled and torn. My emerald green eyes looked tired and sad. My body looked half starved and my legs had cuts all over them. I then realized that I hadn't eaten in about 2 days. I went back into my room, laced up my high top boots and tediously walked to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. I heard soft chimes and glanced at the grandfather clock, 9 o'clock in the morning. Only 15 hours to go. I began to heat water for porridge. Eggs sounded delicious right now. I cracked two eggs into a pan and decided sunny side up would be the fastest way to cook it. The eggs crackled and sizzled. I picked up a bag of dry oats and added them to the hot water. I mixed them together and then flipped the eggs perfectly onto a plate. I poured the porridge into a bowl and started to nibble at it. I heard my father clomping down the stairs. I froze for half a second and my eyes moved to the clock, 9:55. I went beck to eating my porridge. He stopped in front of me and grabbed my plate of eggs. I forced myself to say nothing, though hatred burned inside of me. I forced small spoonfuls of porridge down my throat. No words had been said for what seemed to be a lifetime. We never even made eye contact. One more glance at the clock, 10:04. I must have not heard the chimes. But he just stood in the kitchen as if he was waiting for something. <span style="line-height: 19.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"> <span style="line-height: 19.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"> I couldn't take it anymore! I stood and walked out of the kitchen. I had to find something to buy time, but what? The closet near the parlor was partly open so I peered into the closet, cleaning supplies. I took the duster and started to tidy up the parlor. Dusting off all the shelves, books, the mantle on the fireplace, and all the furniture took about two and a half hours. Then I proceeded to scrub the floors, which occupied me for about an hour or so. Once everything was clean I remembered my appearance in the mirror. I hurried into my bedroom to make myself look at least half presentable. I looked as though a dozen cats attacked me. I sat on the floor by the window and brushed my hair for three hours without stopping. I lost count of how many strokes I was at but I ran my fingers through my hair. It felt like soft and silky. Next, I had to wash my face. It was filthy with dirt. I had to walk all the way to the well to get water because the greedy man used all the water for his bath. That man spoiled himself rotten. I splashed the water on my face and rubbed all the grime away. The final touch would be my dress. My brown one was all wrinkled, dirty, and torn at the sleeve. I felt underneath my mattress and pulled out my mother's old evening gown. I put it on. It was baby blue with lace on the hem of the skirt, which was dragging on the floor. The lace on the cuffs of the long sleeves made me think of her. She always admired lace. Even the silk skirt has a thin layer of lace over it. The gold buttons felt cool on my skin as I buttoned up the bodice. I looked at myself, beautiful, strong, and to my surprise I looked almost exactly like my mother. The clock chimed and I jumped in surprise. Twelve chimes, it was time. I peered into his bedroom, he wasn't there. I clenched my teeth in frustration and crept down the stairs, being very careful not to make any sound. He was sitting in the plush armchair in front of the fireplace in the parlor. Stealthily I slid an antique knife off the wall and pulled my mothers pearl necklace from my neck. I now made no effort to stay silent, he had nowhere to run. <span style="line-height: 19.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"> <span style="line-height: 19.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"> "Who goes there?" he rasped. <span style="line-height: 19.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"> <span style="line-height: 19.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"> "It's me." I whispered. He scrambled out of the chair and his eyes widened at the sight of me. <span style="line-height: 19.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"> <span style="line-height: 19.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"> "It can't be." He breathed I understood now, he thought I was my mother. That gave me a very good advantage. <span style="line-height: 19.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"> <span style="line-height: 19.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"> "What have you done?" I said while advancing towards him. He had no time to reply before I had driven the knife into his heart and whispered right in his ear. <span style="line-height: 19.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"> <span style="line-height: 19.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"> "Murderer." I wrapped my mother's pearl necklace around his neck so he would remember her. And I did not move until I heard him take his very last breath and I felt his heart take one last beat. Blood soaked the dress and my hands, but I was not finished. I pulled the knife out of his chest and carved the word //liar// onto his arm for all the times he had struck me, //ruined// on his face for all the times he had hurt me in a drunken madness, and the final word would never heal because I cut into his flesh so deep. I carved //killer// on his chest so everyone would know he killed my mother and killed my soul. I made no attempt to hide from the police. Yes I killed him, but it was not a crime. I explained to the police that he asked me to kill him by hitting and beating me. They thought I was crazy. <span style="line-height: 19.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"> Now you have heard the story, I have told the tale. They locked me up in here. So learn this lesson and take it to heart, run away when you first have the chance.