A Mother’s Curiosity

I woke up, fixed up some breakfast for Eli, then drove her to school. She was turning four tomorrow, so I had to spend an hour writing invitations to her classmates when I got back. It was really busy when James was out working. Once all that work was finally finished, I chose to watch some TV, bored out of my mind. A mystery movie was on, somebody was just murdered in it, blood soaking their clothing.

What’s it like to kill somebody?

This is the thought that came to mind as I watched. I had never seen anyone die. I mean, I’ve seen dead people, at my In-laws’ funeral. They were always annoying, with their nagging and Alzheimer’s, luckily they died before I went mad. At any rate, it didn’t seem the same, seeing a dead person and seeing a dying person. I tried to imagine it in my mind, blood dripping and the person grasping for life, then finally falling motionless. That kind of scene… it seemed kinda fake, too dramatic.

By the time the movie was over, I had eaten and departed for Eli. She was with her friends when I arrived and called out to her, but she kept talking. This time I came closer and called her name, telling her to come. She ignored me, the bitch. I honked and drove right up to her and her friends, opened the window and told her to come. She tried to ignore me, but this time I got out and walked straight over there, picked her up, being as small and soft as she was, and put her in the car. After strapping her in while she cried, yelling how embarrassing I was, I started to drive back. The bitch wouldn’t be quiet, she just kept yelling and crying. By the time we got back, she had calmed down a bit, though snot was still hanging out of her nose.

After two hours or so, she started whining like a spoiled brat, asking again and again why it wasn’t her birthday yet. Really wondered what it was like to kill somebody you didn’t like. People did it all the time with nuisances, killing bugs or ants that aren’t even bothering anybody. Why would this be any different? I looked at the kitchen knife I was using to make dinner. James wouldn’t be back ’til late, I remembered. A little curiosity never hurt anyone, right? I just wanted to see what it’s like to see somebody die.

I walked carefully and silently behind Eliana, who was sitting on the couch watching some TV. I jumped her, pinning her arms down with a hand too suddenly for her to react. She laughed when I was on top of her. “Stop, mommy, it tickles!” She giggled, right up to the point I fixed my knife to her throat. At that exact moment, she started to scream. Luckily, I pushed down, cutting a slit into her throat. The air was blown out of her neck, fogging up the metal of the knife that wasn’t red. It sounded like a failed attempt to whistle. She was still alive, crying. That small cut didn’t seem like enough, so I put my weight on the knife, tearing steadily, yet quickly, through her soft neck, so soft. It finally stopped at the end, unable to cut the spine. I looked at her face, still warm to the touch, then she moved her lips. She was still alive! Her lips made a deep frown, snot coming out of her nose and tears from her eyes. It was an ugly face, really, luckily when she tried to moan or scream, she couldn’t since I already severed her lungs. Eventually though, her limp head stopped moving after a few final empty gasps for life. I shook her, the head shaking back and forth like a broken doll. How boring it was to kill in reality, it was so simple an idiot could do it, probably even a child. At least my mind was at ease.

I looked down at my sweet daughter’s neck, soft flesh hanging loose, protruding off the scenery in a way. I suddenly had an urge, a temptation similar to the habit of biting your nails or chewing an eraser. I hunched my back to move my face closer to the open neck and took a nibble at the edge. It tasted like a mix of iron and raw meat, not delicious, yet gnawing at it drowned my thoughts in its warmth and flavor, giving my mind fortitude, somewhat like chewing gum. It relieved all the stress, all the weight which I hadn't realized I was lifting. Now that I could think properly, I realized something. I had to kill my husband. He, like most people, would overreact to killing somebody. It’s not like it was that big a deal, I did it in five minutes. To help stop him from making this mistake, I had to kill him to. Maybe he’d realize how frail humans are and how easy it is to kill them, as if yelling “Kill Me!” It’s not like everybody hasn’t taken a life before. Even a small thing like a mosquito, everybody’s at least done that, right? What’s so different between a human life and a bug’s life? Where do we get off, being so arrogant?

I dragged Eliana to my bedroom and kicked her under the bed, cleaning the blood up with some hot water best I could. When James came home, I told him Eliana was out on a sleepover at her friend’s house. We spent the night together. It was so lucky Eliana wasn’t alive to hear us, what kind of parents would do that sort of thing with a child watching? When he got tired and eventually shut his eyes to this world, I went to work. Binding his limbs to the bed and sealing his mouth with tape, I woke him so he could hopefully understand why I was doing what I was. He started with a questioning look, but started struggling for some reason when I took out my knife. Oh, he must be misunderstanding something again. At any rate, I started with his right eye, curving around it through the eyelid with the blade. With a good tug, it came out, still attached to him by a single thread of nerve. I grabbed it and he jerked, probably in pain, but he’d understand when I was done. I yanked the thread and I could feel it rip out from his brain, a few tissues still attached, torn out with it. The round slimy ball felt like a boiled egg, you could squeeze it and it would break into mushy membranes.

“Don’t worry, hun, you’ll be able to keep your vows. Only death will do us part,” I told him romantically, so happy that I fell in love with him. I opened the front of his body and removed some organ, then another, seeing how many I could take out until he died. He cried, he must be happy, making me feel happy too. Finally, I grabbed his heart and severed the rubbery veins and arteries before lifting it out. I snuggled next to him that night and washed myself in red fluids, so warm so I didn’t need a blanket. The next morning I woke up, fixed up some breakfast, buried the bodies, took a shower, changed the sheets, then made some calls to some neighbors, telling them Eliana’s birthday party was cancelled.