𝚂 𝙼 𝙸 𝙻 𝙴

Chapter 4: get up

I watched as her bloodied body fell to the ground as if it were in slow motion.

I didn't notice it until then, but my hand had been buried inside of her stomach leaving a giant gaping wound that I didn't even think could have happened. It didn't seem real. But then again, nothing seemed real at this point. It all seemed fake and a dream, but in reality it isn't.

Droplet after droplet or her crimson blood fell from her mouth to the floor and I just stood hovering over her looking down at what I have done. Her eyes fluttered open and closed and she puttered her lips to make inaudible noises. It was difficult to compensate for this knowing how much she's in, so I just placed my fish onto her face and smiled.

"I will help you, Grandma Jesse. Put you out of your misery."

She couldn't speak before I pulled my arm back and swung down hard, cracking her skull and leaving a big ol' dent. I smiled like a maniac and laughed, swinging my arm back and crashing my fist back down over and over again until her face was disfigured and her skull was battered and scattered everywhere. I found joy in doing this after so long of that torturous lifestyle; my actions were just my motive to move on, that's all.

"S-Sir, that kid just broke that lady's head! Her freaking skull just broke into a million pieces! That's not humanly possible!" A police officer exclaimed with pure terror in his voice to a much bigger built man standing in front.

At the time, my fist was bloody and I had splatters of the liquid all over my face and arms and torso from my deed, so naturally I appeared like a mad-man. I'm not crazy. My actions were justifiable.

"I get it, Simmons. You're scared of her, but I think we all are. The best we can do is get Aileigh out here to handle the poor girl. I doubt she'd listen to us."

I perked my head up and stood up onto my feet. I became angered at looking at her body and kicked it.

"Oi, Old Hag, I know you're not dead. Get up."

It didn't move.

"Can't you hear? Get up."

Still no movement.

I could hear the rustling of clothing behind me as the officers adjusted their guns to have the pointed tip facing me in case I attempt anything. I wasn't going to. It wasn't my plan.

"GET UP."

I kicked her dead body and the blood splattered everywhere indicating to me that she wasn't alive anymore. I didn't pay any attention to her lifeless corpse that wasn't moving and just continued to kick it as tears began to stream down my one eyeball, falling down my cheek and onto the ground.

"Get up... get up... get up.. get up.. g e t u p."

I was on my knees now with the droplets of liquid flowing onto my hands beneath me as they comforted my face. My hands trembled with anxiety and anger and I found myself staring at her corpse with pure horror at what I had just done. It was dignified yet horrifying to witness the aftermath of my own hands, but somehow it made me slightly relieved knowing she wasn't alive anymore. My mother had no way of contacting me and Old Hag Jesse was not longer alive so what did I have to fear one
What can guns and weapons do to me that I haven't done to myself already? I'm not afraid of pain anymore. That side of me has long since been abandoned and buried alongside my other emotions such as happiness and joyous smiles and laughs. Oh, how I miss laughing with my mother as she burned our pancakes in the morning or when I walked too fast and ended up falling. These were the only happy moments I shared with that woman; the only things keeping me breathing were these small memories.

A smile formed.

A smile formed.

I rose from my knees and walked to the officer, hitting my torso against his arm. I had nothing left to fear. No body can scare me anymore. I just want a happy home, but I can't reverse the time.

"Shoot me." I demanded. The words seemed to slip from my tongue faster than I could comprehend my own actions. He looked at me with empathy in his eyes.

"No, Kid, I can't. Not after seeing what just transpired."

Why?

Why?

Why?

It doesn't make sense. They only care after seeing the damages that are done so why care now? There's nothing better for me in this cruel life.

They should have just killed me while they had the chance. They made a fatal mistake.

"Alina..? Oh, sweetheart, I'm so sorry for what has happened to you, my dear."

A nice red-haired lady spoke to me as she brushed the wild, black strands of hair behind my ear.

"Aileigh, be careful. Take caution with the child. She's... unstable."

I found comfort in this woman's scent and presence. She won't hurt me, I thought.

She won't hurt me...

I thought.

In a world where you've been only hurt by people you loved and trusted you learn to accept such behavior. It becomes normal; so normal you don't even recognize it.

Manipulation.

Emotional wreckage.

All signs that should have been the give-away to these so-called professionals that I needed a happy home not some stupid red-head girl who will act like she knows me when she hasn't the slightest clue of me.

"Help me," I muttered, "she won't get up."