Perfect Weapon

Introductions

Millie is only 13 years old. So young, so small, but so hated. The hatred has begun to seep into her own veins and now she shuts herself away. Such a broken little girl can never be loved right?
Her father is the worst, the worst one for making her feel worthless. Her mother loves her but it feels faked, as does the love coming from her older brother Harry.

It started only a few months ago, Millies dad had always been a drinker but it had spiralled out of control as soon as he lost his own dad. At first it didn't happen often, only when Millie and her dad were home alone, he'd come back from the pub with his friends late at night while her mum was at work and Harry was at a friends house. Millie didn't see it coming the first time but she got used to it after a while, she knew when it was happening so she barricaded herself in her bedroom to at least slow down what was happening.

"Less time for him to hurt me." She thought to herself. But he was so strong and she was so little so it never held him off for very long. He'd kick the door in and find her trembling in the corner, it scared her so much but she never told anyone about it, because he could hurt her.

He was clever though, never hitting her face or bruising her hands or anywhere her mum could see her, only ever her back or her stomach. Millie would be left alone for hours after it happened and she'd just cry for a while until her mum came home, then she'd cling to her until the next time. It was a vicious cycle of pain.

One evening, Millies dad was more drunk than ever, she was on Skype to a friend when the front door opened. Without raising an alarm bell with her friend, she very calmly told them that she would call them later. She then proceeded to push the white framed bed against the door, pushing with all her might. But he was already coming, and the bed hadn't even made it halfway across the room yet. To Millies surprise, her dad didn't come into her bedroom quite yet, instead he went into the bathroom and showered, then into his bedroom to watch football. Instead of running, Millie just remained really quiet, praying her mum would come home, praying that someone would come home and praying that her dad would forget about her.
But he hadn't. 

One the football had finished, her dad headed to her bedroom, he pushed the door open almost effortlessly and smiled down at the child who was looking up at him, begging with her eyes to leave her alone. He took a step forward and something made a noise in the bathroom and her dad's gaze was moved away from Millie.

Taking her chances, Millie darted for the door and ran towards the stairs. Turning around quickly, her dad grabbed hold of her, or tried, he missed, so he stuck out his leg instead. The young girl went tumbling, top to bottom down the stairs. She hit her head at the bottom and blood trickled onto the floor.

His plan was falling into place. 

He called Millies mum and cried down the phone about how his beautiful daughter had died after falling down the stairs, he then rearranged her bedroom so nothing looked weird.

He had a friend at the hospital who worked in autopsy who he'd asked to help him out, knowing that the paramedics would take her straight to the morgue. He threw Millies body into the boot of his car and replaced it with a rather realistic looking doll, her mum would be too mortified to even notice it wasn't actually her and Harry wasn't even in the same city.
There'd be a little bit of crying, hugs hugs hugs and then...the morgue.

Millies mum, Louise arrived home 20 minutes later to find her husband Mark on the floor sobbing.
"She was running on the landing, I always tell her not to do that, and she tripped over, she tripped and just fell." He cried, his entire act was sickening, good, but sickening.
"It's okay love, it was an accident." Louise was crying too. Her hands ran through her daughters hair, she didn't notice that it wasn't real. "I hope she died peacefully."
"Me too Lou, me too." Mark replied
"My poor baby girl." She whispered as she was loaded into the back of an ambulance. As soon ass the doors closed, Louise flung her arms around Mark and cried into his shoulder.

She'd just lost her only daughter.

The real Millie of course, was still in the boot of her dad's car. Very much alive. He'd made sure that someone had come to pick the car up before Louise got home. By now, she was 40 miles away, in a house in the middle of nowhere.
She was nobody's problem now, Mark could finally show the little brat who's boss.