6 years; That's how long it's been since the old hag keeled over and died on our fucking table. I remember how mom had screamed when Rosemary's shriveled up head slammed into her plate. I still have the scar from the ceramic shard that had lodged itself into my forearm. We were forced to pack up and leave the next day.
Moving meant that we had an opportunity to improve the quality of our lives but, being the piece of shit that I am, my life got worse.
Mom had somehow managed to find a girlfriend in the chaos of buying a home (we settled on a small one story home in the Adirondacks) and they got married within the next three years. What a happy fucking ending, right?
Well guess what bitch; you're wrong.
My mom came home to Keleena floating around in a bathtub full of her own blood, intesestines torn out and used as some kind of bathing suit. Mom didn't find kidney shades as funny as whoever killed her did and, newflash, it was me. It wasn't the first time, either, but so far I haven't been caught. Oh, how I wish I could see the look on your face as you imagine me tugging a cord of organs out of Keleena's body through that single jagged cut and tying it around her small figure. You were probably pitying me just a few short sentences ago. "Oh, what a poor soul." "I wish I could help them." "It must be so hard to lose so many loved ones." I might've felt bad too if I were you but, (get ready for this surprise) I'm not you; I'm me.
And I'm a fucking dick.
I can promise you that this whole book isn't just me making fun of you for being a dumbass with emotions, so don't put it down yet. This book tells the story of my life, Rosa Lane Harper's life, and it's a damn good story. Wait a second, you don't even know who the fuck I am. Well, dearest reader, I'm a serial killer, an infamous one actually. I've committed some of the most hellish murders in U.S. history and yet, I've never been caught. Do you rmember Yolanda Stuvveen? I killed her. How about Jadilyn Parker and her husband, William? I was the one who drowned them. Uganda Swallow? Terrace Lawson? Opal Chen? I can keep going, but I won't; Not yet at least.
YOU ARE READING
Acidic Waters
PoetryAll this is is a collection of poetry and prose I have written throughtout my life as your everyday human being. Some are completed and edited, whilst others will remain raw permentally. Feel free to leave any feedback you have and I hope you enjoy...
