I'm Not An Evil Person.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Thrillers  |  House: Booksie Classic

This is a fractured fairy tale of Little Red Riding Hood for school. It's based off the original. So basically, you already kind of know the plot, the only difference is, the story takes place in a modern setting and the wolf is now Mr. Wolfe who preys on a young girl.

Over the years, I’ve noticed some things. Firstly, peoples mistakes compel others to create assumptions of them, which can morph into permanent conceptions based on that one instance. Secondly, people assume many things they have no knowledge of, typically negative, and gossip-worthy things. And finally, everyone loves to make assumptions about everything.

Witnessing this behavior first hand is frightening and confusing. I don’t recall doing anything particularly wrong to make others form this conception that I’m a wicked, malevolent human being. Of course, I have my faults, my impulses, but that is all part of the human experience. I’m really quite the average man. I live paycheck to paycheck, trying to sustain a healthy, happy life. Trust me, I’m not an evil person.

Allow me to offer some context, there was a pretty girl, Marella. She was young but independent. She wore the brightest smile and the kindest heart. She also had magnificent long dark hair, the type of hair that made you want to run your fingers through its delicate fibers. And, complementing her beautiful complexion, she had a gorgeous pair of blue eyes. They were angelic, fit for a queen.

I longed to meet Marella, get to know her. So I gathered the courage and drove right beside her within speaking distance when she was walking home from school one day. Like a man.

I began talking to her through the window of my car. Initially, she was timid, and we exchange a simple hello and our names (I already knew hers). Fortunately, after some time, Marella became more accustomed to seeing me, and a loving relationship bloomed. Every day I would drive by and converse with her about anything you could think of.  Sometimes it was about pressing topics, and other times it was just about her day to day adventures at school. She grew to enjoy my company, and I grew to enjoy hers.

You see, Marella began to mean a lot to me. She was always there to talk to, Monday through Friday at approximately 3:00 pm. Of course, excusing Tuesdays, she had the Environment Club. She would be about 45 minutes later than usual, and I would wait.

One day, I took it upon myself to drive her home from school, and I waited outside with most of the other parents. She recognized my car and approached.

“Hi Mr. Wolfe! Why are you here today? You usually meet me when I walk home from school.” She questioned every so angelically.

“Today I wanted to drive you home from school! Just hop right in!” I said, barely containing my excitement.

“Sorry! My dad said he wanted to drive me home from school,” She said and gave a small wave to a tall man staring at us over in the distance. I could tell from his shifting in his cheap and wrinkled clothing he was uncomfortable, and he was definitely about to approach us.

He briskly waved her over, and without even saying goodbye, she skipped over happily to her father’s car.  

As it happens to be, Marella stopped walking home from school after that. I never witnessed her again meander down the typical street we would so frequently converse in, therefore I could no longer talk to her how we were so accustomed to doing. Luckily, at that point, I knew where she lived, so I went by her house, and I watched. I’m not a stalker, I was frustrated and mostly worried. It was abrupt and unannounced, and I longer to have another interaction with that 3rd-grade girl.

For about two weeks, I saw her get dropped off at home by her father, sometimes her grandmother depending if her father was occupied. Her father was a very busy man, and with her mother passed her grandmother helped keep the house in order.

I was always tempted to approach the household to see, but I resisted.

However, on one woeful afternoon, she had not been dropped off in the expected timeframe of 3:00-3:05 pm. I was worried, frightened. Another minute passed, and paranoia quickly made itself comfortable in the depths of my mind, “Is she okay? What could have happened to her? What if she was abducted? What if someone took her away forever?” I thought.

To my great relief, she arrived one painstakingly long minute later at 3:07 pm. This had put me into quite the panic, I had to know the cause of the delay. As she and her grandma exited the old dingy car and entered back into their quaint shack, they caught a glance of me.

I advance towards her doorstep, and, like the kind gentlemen I am, I knocked on the chipped door. Knock, knock, knock… no answer. Knock, knock, knock… no answer. I waited for about 5 minutes, and finally, Marella’s grandmother creaked open the door just a sliver.

“Sir, you’re going to have to leave us alone,” that old hag croaked.

“Sorry to bother you miss” I said. Enraged, I stormed off without another word, except curses held within my breath, inaudible.

The old crone had no idea what was coming. I had the perfect plan concocting in my mind. I had to get past Marella’s grandmother and talk to her. This may seem pretty outlandish and horrible, but I’m not evil. I had to find a way to talk to her.

The following afternoon, Marella’s grandmother entered her house with a bag of groceries slung on her arm. It was a Tuesday, so it was the typical grocery shopping day. Usually Marella’s father would be present so Marella’s grandmother could have assistance, but from observation, I concluded he was on some sort of business trip.

I instead not explain how I got my hands on it, but I had an official uniform on of an innocent mailman. I wore a cap and glasses to obscure my face. I knew I needn’t need much of a disguise, her eyesight was pretty horrible. I don’t understand how she drives that car and lives, or let alone qualified to handle such machinery. I approached the door with an empty cardboard box with a forged label precisely taped in the corner.

Knock, knock…

Marella’s grandmother’s opened the door, “Oh hello there sir!” She took a glance at the cardboard box and my uniform, “I don’t believe I ordered anything recently. Are you sure you have the right address?” she said.

“Yes ma’am, right here, it reads for Mr. Perrault on 1697 French Avenue. Which is here,” I proclaimed confidently.

“Ah. That must from my son. Thank you, and goodbye, sir!” She smiled. I could see Marella’s smile, which only enraged me.

As she gripped the package and wondered what the contents of the box could really be due to its lightness, I pushed passed her and slammed the door behind me and locking it. It was 2:32 pm, which gave me enough time to get rid of her and pick up Marella.

With a few quick thrusts of my arm gripping a sharp hunting knife, Marella’s grandmother’s body was limp on the ground, lifeless. Blood pooled in a thick, deep red consistency as she lay face flat on the wood floor. I glanced at the body and swiftly drove to Marella’s elementary school. I wanted to give myself lots of time.

At 2:54 pm, I pulled into the small parking lot. Marella would be let out of school in about 6 minutes, and I was ready.

When she strolled out of school, I ushered her towards me. Luckily, foresight is one of my best qualities, and I had already changed my clothes, so there wouldn’t be any blood stains or suspicious marks.

“Hey, Marella! Your grandmother asked me to pick you up, she was feeling sickly and called me” I lied. I only did so so she could come with me.

“Okay! I’m so excited! I haven’t talked to you in such a long time!” Marella grinned and hopped in the passenger seat without the seatbelt on (I let her go in the front without the belt so she could feel like a big girl).

I drove around for a bit, relishing the sweet moments. Unfortunately, we had only a brief conversation before the police were on my tail. I guess in hindsight, I really lack foresight, I didn’t even consider the possibility of Marella’s father or neighbor opening the door to the scene of a dead old women with blood all over the floor. Not only that, having a good idea on who could have committed such a crime. I know I couldn’t have.

The sirens of the police only blared louder as the cars neared mine“Hey, Mr. Wolfe, why is the police following us?” Marella asked, so innocently.

“Marella, sometimes we make mistakes, and people assume things about you. I made a mistake, and the police think I am a bad guy,” I lectured.

“Oh. Well, just tell the policemen you aren’t bad!” Marella suggested.

“I wish I could explain to them, but they won’t listen,” I sighed, speaking the truth.

“What are you going to do now?” Marella asked.

I took a great sigh, realizing what I had to do. If I couldn’t have Marella, no one could.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice shaking, heart palpitating at an alarming rate.

Without much hesitation, I quickly applied pressure the break of my car. Marella’s beautiful body flew through the front window and slammed on the ground. Like her grandmother, she lay limp, only this time, her limbs contorted into cruel ways. Her eyes, so lifeless, so broken.

The police were swift, and within minutes, I was cuffed and sent to jail. I wish I could say I regretted what I did, but I don’t.

You see, what I did was out of love, I never intended anyone to get hurt, I just had to be with Marella. As the ancient Romans would say, “The ends justify the means.”

I understand I will face severe consequences for the evil actions I did not condone, and it saddens me. Those actions were out of love, and besides, I didn’t kill Marella, I set her free.

However, I know if I ever find myself in a dark place, the idea that no one else will ever have Marella and I was the last person she will ever be with warms my heart.

“He is definitely severely psychotic,” The psychiatrist proclaimed after reading Mr. Wolfe’s criminal statement. “After proper evaluation and reviewing this criminal statement, it’s pretty clear this man needs some help. He seems to have no remorse for killing Marella’s grandmother and has no regard for the consequences of his actions. Or rather, he doesn’t even believe he has committed such actions.” She sighed “The AOT will most likely give him some help.”

The policeman nodded and scoffed, “I guess he isn’t really an evil person if he’s retarded, right?”


Submitted: May 19, 2019

© Copyright 2021 Banaenae18. All rights reserved.

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Christopher Stand

Interesting, but the ending needs revising.

Mon, May 20th, 2019 7:22pm

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