My Little Monster
The day that my daughter was born I new something was terribly wrong. As I’d peered over her mothers shoulder a tiny face looked up into mine, her irises glistening a dark bloody red and her eyes, focused. Those eyes, I knew them well. My own father had the same ones; they ran in the family… a signature given to those with the Disease. But I kept quite; I know how upset my wife would be if she knew. Besides, I loved my daughter. Her small head covered in auburn curls like her mother, and her skin smooth and pale like porcelain. As the years went by I watched her grow up, and I can honestly say that, aside from the knowing looks she sometimes tossed my way, she seemed like a normal little girl. That is, until her eighth birthday. I had gone out to get her birthday cake from the local baker, but even as I left, I knew something was about to change for the worst. I knew but I still left, always the attentive husband. I hadn’t been gone for maybe a half hour, but it was enough time still, for her. I’d walked into the house and almost immediately dropped the cake as a disgustingly familiar sent hit my nose. Blood. I walked slowly up the stairs, knowing that whatever had happened couldn’t be stopped now. Opening my bedroom door slowly, my eyes scanned the room. My sight coming to rest on the back corner of the room, I felt my stomach lurch. Sitting there was my daughter, my precious little girl, holding her mothers mangled corpse. The woman I had married, my wife…her throat savagely torn open and her body covered in blood. The little girl before her also covered in blood, matted in her brown curls, so much like her mothers, and smeared all over her skin making a stark contraction against her milky white complexion. I beckoned to her and she stepped forward, calculating my every move. As she drew closer I notice the blood under her finger nails, and taking the time to look, I also saw the bloody hand prints and spatters on the walls, the most gruesome of them was the one on our now cracked mirror. I looked down at her, my little girl, and I knew I couldn’t let this happen again, because I knew it would and instead of my wife, it would be me. I loved her, I really did, but I also feared her. So I did was I knew was best, I told her to go in the bathroom and clean off all the blood from her body. Like the good little girl she was, she did as I told her, and as she walked away, so did I, right to the basement to grab a gun. When I’d arrived back upstairs she was nowhere in sight and I’d felt a bolt of fear go through me, that is, before I heard her call to me. From where I was I could tell she was in her room, and as I approached I saw her, standing at the foot of her bed in her teddy bear pajamas without a speck of blood on her. Still, I knew what I had to do. I told her to lie back on the bed and stay still, that I was going to hold her pillow over her face until she fell asleep, to assure that there were no nightmares. But then I looked her in the eye, and I knew she knew. She had that knowing look in her eye that had always told me she would be something evil. But still she obeyed me, my ever obedient daughter. As I lowered the pillow to her face, I saw her crimson eyes close…my eyes. Those blood red eyes were a perfect mirror of my own. Pushing the pillow firmly over her face, I held it there until her chest finally stopped its rhythmic rise and fall. Removing the pillow I reached behind myself, grabbing for the gun I’d set on her nightstand. I brought it around from and placed it in my mouth. I could feel the cold steel on my tongue and taste the metallic tang of the barrel. I hesitated for only a moment before taking a final glance at my little girl, my little monster. Pushing the gun farther into my mouth I did what I had to do…I pulled the trigger.
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