Eternally Mine

I thought about it. I thought about her face, how pretty it was. I thought about that smile, the one that haunted my every waking hour, the one that said, “I have everything, and I am better that you.” I thought about turning myself in, thought about living with the guilt, and then I thought, “What guilt? She brought it upon herself.” 1

I smelled the ocean breeze drifting up through my nose, the salty air that always smells like home. I could hear laughing and singing coming from the next house, a party was going on. Another party I wasn’t invited to. As I sat in the sand against the fence that separated me from the excitement, I grew angry. Angry at her for not noticing me, for not liking me the way I liked her. I had to do something about it. I couldn’t just sit there and let this monster grow inside of my stomach, this swelling knot that threatened to suffocate me. I went back inside my house, the one that was slightly smaller than hers. Soon they would all be inside, it was getting cold and the moon was in hiding. I waited for hours by my window, watching, waiting, watching, waiting-for the right time. It had to be the right time.2

I don’t remember what happened next, I wasn’t myself. Then again, maybe I was myself. Maybe I was finally who I needed to be, to get the job done, anyway. When I looked through the sliding glass door I could see them all. The higher class society with their expensive clothing and perfect faces, all smiling, all unaware. I looked down at my thrift store sweater, the one that was two sizes too large, the one that didn’t keep me warm at all. The beast in my stomach loved this. This new feeling of self-disgust, the sinking knowledge that I was a pathetic nobody, seemed to feed the demon inside me. My pale fingers clenched the wood in my hand until my knuckles turned white. My hand cramped and I dropped the axe on the concrete patio. The clank of the metal was so loud, I knew they heard it. How could they not have? I didn’t dare move, not even an inch. I knew they couldn’t see me through the glass, it was too dark out that night. Minutes passed, or maybe it was longer? They all went on dancing and enjoying themselves. They made me sick. I remember walking around to the electrical box on the side of the house and smashing it with a quick stroke of the axe. It sparked and smoked, every light in the place went off. I laughed to myself at the thought of them running around, frantic, stumbling over furniture, each other. I stifled back a giggle when I heard glass breaking and frenzied echoes of chaos wafting from the house. I wondered what they were thinking, if they knew it was me. Suddenly panicked, I climbed over the fence and sat, just sat. I began to freeze, my eyes were cold and I could no longer feel the axe in my hand. I put it down in the sand next to me. It would be there when I needed it. 3

I must have fallen asleep because when I opened my eyes I couldn’t hear the shouts and hollers of the party anymore. They all went home. My legs were stiff but I finally rose to my feet, determined to carry out my ingenious plan. I had to walk around the fence the second time, there was no possible way I could have jumped it.  When I reached the back door it was unlocked, just like I knew it would be. Of course she wouldn’t think to lock her door, not in this quiet town. Not when she was the most popular girl at school. I paused in the hallway, fixated on the collection of photos and portraits of her. God she was beautiful. One of the hangings was crooked, so I nudged it back into place. I had smiled at the thought of being in her house, touching her things. The axe weighed a ton in my hand, pulling my arm down to the floor. I had to hurry. I crept up the stairs, careful to avoid the creaky step at the top, just in case their was one. Three doors to the left, two to the right, and one at the very end of the hall. That one was hers. She had to stand out. I turned the knob slowly, I didn’t want her to be awake yet, not until I was in the room. I wanted to see her sleeping. 4

I was hovering over her bed, over her fluffy blankets and her fluffy pillows and her fluffy stuffed teddy bear. I knew she slept with a teddy bear, it made her feel safe. Her soft breathing almost made me stop, rethink my plan. She seemed so innocent and young lying there, so vulnerable. But then I saw all the trophies on the shelf above her bed. The beast fed off of this, fueled by her perfection and accomplishments. I raised the axe over my head, over my brown hair. It wasn’t blonde like hers, wasn’t silky. The hate grew. I screamed her name, screamed it from the bottom of my stomach. It was distorted, guttural, primal. She jumped up as my axe fell down. The crack gave me chills and I flinched. I couldn’t pull it out of her skull so I left it there. I watched as the blood seeped out, matting her golden locks. Her green eyes were still open in an eternal state of fear, shock. Even in death she was beautiful. I found myself stroking her soft cheeks, caressing her bare shoulders. She was still warm. I leaned closer to her perfect face and gently kissed her full lips, the lips I’d always wanted to kiss. I was in nirvana. 5

I think about it now, how she looked up at me. How beautiful she was. And I smile to myself  and think about how I was the last one to see her alive, to kiss her sweet lips. She is eternally mine, seared in my memory. I think about her parents, what they must have thought when they got home that weekend. I wonder if they cried. They probably did. I wonder if they noticed her teddy bear missing, the one she slept with, the one I took with me when I left. I look at it now and cuddle it, hold it up to my face. It still smells like her. When I smell that smell the beast rises up again, hungry for blood. When I smell that smell, that delicate peaches and cream, I have to go out and kill again. But don’t worry, I only prey on the gorgeous, the beautiful. I only prey on the perfect.6