I never thought I’d be here standing over her, knife in hand. Well actually that’s a lie, I’ve been planning on doing this for weeks. But let’s not start here. Let's start where it all began.
I was only twelve when my father died. He died when my mom pierced his heart with the kitchen knife. Ever since then, I’ve hated her. I was rude to her, I disobeyed her, I did anything I could do to let her know I knew she killed him, and I was not pleased. Sometimes I even called her by her first name, Grace. A few months ago, when I turned eighteen, I learned why she killed him. Every Occidere learns that. My mom did, her mom did, and her mom, and so on. That’s what we did in this family, kill for the family money. My mom had killed her brother so her mother would give my mom the family money. Then she killed her husband, my father, for his money. That’s how it goes. Our family teaches you to kill for money at sixteen. I only have two weeks before my sister learns about the family secrets. I need to make a plan to kill her, and fast.
I am all alone in my room trying to figure out how I am going to kill my sister. I could kill her with my bow and arrow. No, that’s too risky I need to be able to do it quickly and close to her. I need help, but I can’t ask just anyone, I need an expert, I need the Butler, Robert. Robert’s family has helped our family kill for years. I was really nervous when I called Robert on my phone.
The room felt hot as the thought of killing my sister settled in. I had this feeling, a feeling I had never had before. I wanted to kill my sister. I wanted to feel the knife pierce through her skin. I was a little scared by this feeling. Yesterday my sister was my best friend and now I am going to kill her. Not only that, I want to kill her.
The sound of my phone ringing cut off my train of thought.
“Hello,” I said. It was Robert .
“I’m guessing that you have come of age and want some advice.” He said, choosing his words slowly and carefully, as if someone was on the other line listening.
“Yes-,” I start.
“Meet me at Arby’s in thirty minutes,” he orders.
When I walk in, I see him sitting at the far table in the corner. It’s 3:00, and the place is empty. I sit down and start browsing the menu.
“Order the small steak, rare.” He said.
I start to ask why, but he shoots me a look that stops me.
“What would you like miss.” The waiter asks.
“The small rare steak please,” I said, trying to seem as nice as possible.
I don’t want to be the creepy person who orders steak mid-day. Although I am the creepy person who wants to kill her sister.
“Here you go,” the waiter says as he sets down the steak.
I realize that it’s been thirty minutes and we still haven’t said a thing. The smell of the steak drifted up to my nose, and all I could smell was the blood. I wanted to see the blood come flowing out of the steak. I pushed those thoughts away. I felt tears burning in my eyes as tried to gulp down the bump that was forming in my throat. I thought of how the blood of the steak made me feel, I thought of piercing my sisters skin. Although I tried to deny it, I knew that deep down I was a monster.
When I looked up at Robert's eyes, they were briefly alive with terror and remorse. In a flash he was back to the lifeless and cold.
“What are you feeling” He asked, but he didn’t look like he cared.
“I feel like I’m a monster.” I whispered, my voice quivering with fear.
“It’s okay, this is how you are supposed to feel,” he said.
His voice was full of fake concern.
“What do you think is triggering this feeling,” Robert said.
“I don’t know. I can’t think,” I said.
Your fathers death, your mothers hate, your sisters love. The voices, the last time I heard them I was fifteen.
I guess you could say I was crazy before this whole killing my sister thing came along, and I guess I knew in the back of my head that I was going to end up like this. Even though I knew that this was going to happen that does not mean I was okay with it. When I was thirteen, I was bullied for talking to them.
People would say “There goes the freak!”
Then they would run away laughing, and the voices would take over. At first it was encouraging like,
“Don’t let them get to you, you’re not a freak.”
Then it became more provoking saying things like, “You can’t let them talk to you like that, show them, hurt them.”
Eventually I learned to ignore the voices and they left. Now with this new urge to kill my sister, they’re back, and stronger than ever.
“You need to try.” Robert ’s voice broke through my chain of thought.
Your mother was rude to you, she hated you. She gave your sister all her love. You wanted that love, and there is no other way to get it. If you aren’t her favorite you don’t get any money. You need that money.
“My mother- she loved my sister and ignored me, I wanted that love.” Before I knew what I was doing I stood up and yelled,
“It’s her fault I am doing this I deserve her love and if I get her love I get her money. I need that money. I deserve that money.” I realized what I done. I had listened to the voices, and by doing that I have given them power.
It had been a week since the meeting with Robert , and the voices were getting louder than ever. Telling me to take my sister and wrap my hands around her throat. I tried to keep them out, but they were taking over my brain. At some points of the day they were so loud they took over all my other senses. Even though I tried to make them leave, I knew they were only going to get worse. Now they almost never went away. That’s why this morning was so unusual.
The morning was quiet, and not a single voice of my conscience was there. The sun was pouring in through the window with the warm summer breeze. A blue bird with a white belly was chirping away a cheerful song, and I felt like I was normal. I felt like I wanted to get my backpack and walk right to school, chat with my friends, and drink smoothies. Our only concern was how much calories each smoothie had. This feeling only lasted a second, because it was soon replaced with a new one, the feeling of pain, wanting to be normal.
A new image flashed in my head, the one of the school girls throwing me onto the dirty ground telling me, “That’s where freaks like you belong.” And then the voices were back taking my brain and then my body over. They kept repeating, you will show them, when you’re rich you can walk by them and they will respect you. You want that respect, from them, from your mother, from the staff. You will not be second choice anymore.
“I need the money,” I repeated. So what are you going to do.
“Kill the girl,” I grabbed the knife that I had stashed in my room when I was little to keep away the monsters, and put it my pocket.
I was now on the couch contemplating what just happened. What are you doing? Kill her. The voices where yelling, I couldn’t hear anything around me. I wanted to scream. Kill her, KILL HER!
Then I felt something tighten around my neck. I turned around to see my sister fear alive in her eyes as she sees my face, struggling to breathe. I try to think but my thoughts are cloudy. Then I remember I have the knife. I take it in my hand and look up to my sisters face full of tears, and I stab right in the heart. She screams but does not loosen the rope. Then everything goes black.
As I wait for the lawyer to come, I turn up the radio.
In a scratchy voice, the newscaster reported, “Recently, Grace Occidere was found dead behind Arbys. The police have not found out what she was killed with or who killed her. All they know is that there was a green RV seen parked in Arby’s at that time. No license plate was seen.”
I shiver at the thought of it all.
The sound of footsteps echoed through the empty halls. I turn off the radio as the footsteps get closer. A man in a gray suit with bold shoulders comes into the room.
“Good morning” I say trying not to let my eagerness show in my voice.
He hands me a stack of about ten papers.
“I will summarize what the will says, you can read the papers I just handed you if you so please. When you’re done I will have you sign at the bottom of the last page. Okay?” He doesn’t wait for a response and starts reading aloud.
“The will states that if the Grace dies, the child of her choice (the youngest child Sophia) will get the Occidere money. In the rare event that everyone else in the family dies, you will get the Occidere money. So if you agree to that, and want the Occidere money then you can sign at the bottom of the tenth page in the stack of papers I gave you.”
I don’t even want to read all the papers, I just immediately go to the tenth page and don’t even try to hide my excitement as I sign.
“Thank you for your business.” I say as I grin. The last time I remember smiling was before all of this started.
“Thank you,” he says no grin in sight.
“Hey Robert, I’m sorry for your loss,” he says, and seems genuinely sorry.
“Thank you,” I call. I start singing as I walk out into the parking lot to my green RV.