A murderous short story
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alexinthecorner
alexinthecornerbitter bisexual disaster, he him pronoun
Autoplay OFF  •  5 months ago
April was asleep, her hair still in the pigtails from earlier today. Her blonde hair swept gently across her face as little snores escaped from her open mouth. My poor, sweet, little April, my only daughter April. Could I really do this? It was Sophie’s Choice really.

A murderous short story

April was asleep, her hair still in the pigtails from earlier today. Her blonde hair swept gently across her face as little snores escaped from her open mouth.

My poor, sweet, little April, my only daughter April. Could I really do this? It was Sophie’s Choice really.

My sweet innocent little daughter, or her sinner mother? I had chosen her, but doubts still remained. We needed the money, and we needed food.

Prostitution was an option, but I had decided against that. I didn't know how to make drugs, and neither of us had a talent that we could make money off of.

The only option we had left was organ harvesting. We would make a fair amount of money but at the cost of my daughter's life.

My husband - now ex-husband - on the other hand, had cheated on me, thrown me on to the streets, took my house and everything in it. He was worthless to me.

I had maybe just enough money to get home and after that, I'm the one who owns the car, I could take that and we wouldn't have to live on the streets.

Any money I made after that could be used to put April into daycare. My fingers brushed against the slip of paper in my pocket. On it was the name and the number of my buyer.

Taking a deep breath and making sure that April was hidden well, I stepped out onto the street and hailed a taxi. As we fled down the street, other cars and buildings seemed to race past.

My heart was stuck in my throat and I couldn't seem to swallow it down. The low hum of the engine lulled my nerves a bit as I drummed my fingers against the torn and dirty leather of the seat.

"Do you have a phone I can borrow?”

The voice frightened me until I realized it was my own.

My hands quivered as the driver handed me his phone. Pulling the slip of paper back out I dialled the number and waited for somebody to pick up.

“1083 Bayard Avenue.” My voice sounded distant, almost as if it didn't belong to me.

“Remember, don't damage the vocal cords. That's what I'm paying you the most for.”

Before I could respond, the line went dead. Handing the phone back I sunk down against the seat.

“Honey, are you okay?” The drivers' voice brought me out of my hazy thoughts. Shaking myself back to reality, I handed him a crumpled wad of cash and stepped out of the cab into the night.

My body tensed at the stark change from the cold cab to the heavy night air. Staring at the house, I felt my heart pang, and tears pricked at the corners of my eyes.

The lights were off, but the house radiated warmth.

How dare that man live in his perfectly happy household while his daughter and I starve?

A light fog covered the walkway, adding to the horror movie effect that this night held. I crept up to the door and tried the lock.

The door swung open with a small creak, small enough that if my heart had been beating any faster, I might not have heard it at all.

Stepping into the house, I was overcome with bittersweet memories. Just get in, do it, get paid, then get out. That's all I had to do and then we were gonna be just fine.

My feet made no noise on the carpeted floor as I made my way across the house to what used to be my bedroom door.

The once light tactical knife I had found in an alley now seemed to weigh a thousand tons as I quietly pulled it open. My hands trembled as I reached for the door handle.

The door didn't creak as I opened it and I fixed my eyes on the steadily rising mass of blanket laying on his, no, my bed. I remembered what he told me was the best way.

The base of the ear, and then straight down.

All I had to do was get in, do it, get paid, then get out.

Softly I pulled the blankets back to reveal the cheater asleep in his bed of lies. Suddenly overcome with rage, I plunged the knife in just below his ear without a second thought.

Feeling the blood splatter against my face brought me back to my senses.

All I had to do was get in, do it, get paid, then get out.

I was halfway done.

I jumped when the gloved hand settled on my shoulder and handed me a generous stack of money.

“You did well. Go now. Get back to your daughter.”

My mind was hazy as I searched for my keys and clambered into what I suppose was now a stolen car.

I didn't care. The name on the registration was Danielle. That was me.

All that mattered now was April.

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