The week my granny tried to kill me

Chapter 13: A crazy story and a last-second rescue

"Why are you doing this?!" I screamed at Grandmother.

She just stared at me.

"What is wrong with you, you crazy old bat?!" I screamed, harder that time.

Again, silence.

"WHERE'S MY MOTHER?!" I screamed as hard as I could, but she still gave me the silent treatment. I was all out breath from all that yelling. All I could do now was cry.

She looked at me with no remorse, then said, "Well, granddaughter, since this will be your last night alive, I suppose you deserve an explanation. When your mother was three years old, she started becoming scared of me. I didn't know what was going on, but I figured that it was probably a phase, and that she'd be done with it soon.

"But then she turned seven, and she still treated me like I was some ticking time bomb. It was this that drove me to depression. When she was nine, she tried to run away a few times, but I made sure she didn't. Every time I caught her trying to escape, I punished her severely. By the time she reached twelve, she learned her lesson. When she was in the 8th grade, she even tried to stay late at school just to avoid me. The principal always brought her home to me, and my own daughter tried to tell her that I was an unstable monster and that I shouldn't be trusted with her. I proved her wrong, of course, but I still wasn't gonna let my daughter go unpunished. So the last time the principal dropped her off back here, I locked her in her room for five days. After that, she learned her lesson. When she was seventeen, she made me get a lobotomy. It hurt my cognitive thinking ability and complex motor skills for a few weeks, but I finally got myself together and started providing again. She left me when she was 18 and she never came back. When she finally came back after all those years and had a child with her, I was mad. She never let me see you, she never let me write you, and she never even let me knew that you even existed! Do you know how hard that is, not knowing where your own daughter is or how she's doing?! DO YOU?!"

I figured out that she wasn't being rhetorical, so I answered, "I never had a daughter, so I wouldn't know!"

"I have to punish you," she started. "Do you know why I must punish you?"

"Because we escaped," I said, sounding very scared.

"Not just that," she said back. "Also because you didn't eat all of you food, you didn't stay in bed, and you went places that you shouldn't have. And as for you, BOY, you not only tried to escape but you also broke my favorite vase, you went where you weren't supposed to, and you touched my granddaughter."

"I never did that!" he tried to yell, but the loss of blood was starting to take its toll. I was laying in his lap, not caring that his blood was getting in my hair.

"I know what I heard," she argued.

"WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!" I screamed at her. "He would never do that to me!"

"Don't lie to granny," she whispered.

"I'm not lying," I said softly. "We just kissed, that's it. He didn't touch me! He would never do that!"

She smiled that sinister smile, then said, "Why were you two sharing a bed, then?"

"I couldn't stand that bloodstain painting," I confessed. She didn't say anything more. She walked towards us, blunt instrument in hand. Garter held me as I looked away, waiting for the smack of a wooden, bloodstain stick to put us out of our misery.

"MOTHER!" I heard a familiar voice scream out. I looked up and saw a woman with honey blond hair, just like mine.

Mother.