I'm 16, my mother is mad and I am a murderer, problem? -ON HOLD-

I'm 16, my mother is mad and I'm a murderer- Part 8

Chapter 12.

The insulating hairs on my arm stand on its ends. A heavy lump gathers in my throat. My tears flow uncontrollably. This cannot be happening.

This cannot be happening.

It just can't.

I'm only 16. I can't have killed a man. I can't go to jail. I can't leave Mother to take care her of herself. 

I rush over to his body and place my fingers on his pulse, praying for a miracle. "Please, please God. Please let him be alive. Please. Help me, God. Just please." My dry throat makes it hard for me to plead aloud, yet I strive to finish all my sentences as if incomplete clauses will make a difference.   Inevitably, there is no movement. 

I cry out, screaming. The music, still playing ridiculously loud, does nothing to muffle out my penetrating cries; I am screaming too loud.

"Why God? Why does this have to happen to me? Why God? Why?! WHY?!" I use my new-found religious persona to find an excuse. It isn't my fault. It's God's fault. God made me have a crazy mother. God made me come to this house. God made me kill this man. Not me. 

I start throwing anything in my path across the room. Glasses smash. Chairs break. The TV falls to the ground. 

Suddenly, my phone vibrates. Before I'm about to smash it across the room, I read the name: Dad. I see it's a text message so I open it.

Beth, sorry for leaving like that. It had to be done. Please, don't to try to get in contact with me. Talking to you will only remind be of your mother and I can't have that. I love you.  

I take a halt and stare at what I've done completely disregarding Dad's message. The room is destroyed, the carpet is stained with blood and there is a pale, corpse in the middle of the room adding to the stench. If anybody sees this I'll be sent to jail, I think. I can't let that happen. I can't leave Mother to fend for herself. 

My quick reasoning results in me deciding to hide the body. Where to put him? All sorts of ideas wander my mind until I remember what he said. "You're joining every other girl in my basement," is what he said. That must mean he's got a sanctuary for dead bodies. What a sick man, I think and for a moment, all that regret of murdering this man escapes my mind and I feel as if a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. This lasts only for a second though, then the regret returns and I once again feel remorse. 

Where is this basement? I begin looking around franticly in every room. I search under cupboards, under the kitchen appliances and even under the tiles in the bathroom until I give up. Where would he keep it? Where would a psychologically-unhinged man hide bodies? I begin searching the living room again, desperately determined to find it. Then, under the TV, I see a floorboard out of place. My heart skips a beat as I realise what this means. 

My hands shiver as I dread to think of what lies under this floorboard. I slide the unusually light TV to one side and begin pulling the floorboard up. 

Underneath there is a wooden flap connected to a string. I pull at it, and look down inside the room. As soon as I do, a horrific odour is released into the room. I hold my nose hoping to avoid some of the smell.

The room is dark and there are stairs. I wonder whether I should go down there. Should I see what he's done to these other girls? I decide to. I convince myself that that's only way I'll be able to get over this regret and live with myself. Slowly, using my phone as the only source of light, I amble down the stairs keeping a strong grasp on my nostrils. As I reach the last stair, the smell becomes unendurable. I decide I have to get out but as I turn to leave, I get a glimpse of the horrific sight of all the girls he's killed. All of their bodies have been clumped together as if they were merely just cutlery in a kitchen draw. Each girl stuffed on top of the other. I force myself to look at these commiserable, ill-fated girls. Some of their organs had been removed, and their bodies ripped open. I was sure their cold, bloodless was the ideal resort for the diminutive bacteria living on their skin. My stomach turns a knot and I vomit all over the ground. This is disgusting, I think.

I run out, go over to the deceased man whose name I still don't know and drag his body into the flap. He drops and makes a large clamp. His skull has hit against the concreted cement stairs. I feel no more penitence or anguish, I only feel justice. Justice that this cruel, heartless man has finally been killed after killing others. 

"Good fucking bye, Dave. Karma's a bitch." I say as I shut the flap and look down at the horror for the last time.

Chapter 13

My steps echo my heartbeat as I meander down the road with my head held high. My face is still full of tears and my nose running, however, for some peculiar reason, I feel completely opposite to how a person who'd just killed a man would feel; I feel elated. But, the shocking images of the young girls in the basement wander my mind constantly. I wish I didn't go down there. I wish I didn't see the dead bodies. I wish I hadn't scarred my mind like this. After dropping 'Dave' in the basement, I fled the room immediately. I couldn't stand being in the same building as all those poor souls. They didn't deserve to die like that. Only 'Dave' did.

As my footsteps conflict with the pavement, my thoughts wander to what will become of me. My whole life is in jeopardy due to the irrational actions that  had occurred a few minutes ago. Will I be arrested? For how long? And how will Mother cope? Will she be confined into a psychiatric ward? She would hate that. I can't let that happen to her. We both have to leave before the body gets found, I conclude. I hasten my pace until I reach my door. I wonder whether Mother will let me in. My hand collides with the door as I bang abruptly. 

"Mother!"

The corridor light comes on, and this reminds me of the last time I stood in this position. 

"What do you want?" Her words are still as cold as before, but this time I am more determined. It feels as if I am racing to beat a ticking time-bomb: I have to get out of this city before somebody finds Dave. 

"Mother, you were right. They are coming for us." I resort to the only thing I know best- playing along with Mother's antics. I hear the door on the latch fasten open. Slowly, the door opens and Mother is standing there in her robe. 

"Do you finally believe me, Bethany?" She stares at my wet face and slightly tilts her head to the side, attempting to reason as to why I look like this.

"Yes. We have to get away from them as quick as possible, they're coming for us. Hurry, get a bag and put in everything you need. We can stay at Auntie Pauline's house. Quick." Mother's face scrunches in fear, she is genuinely afraid. I feel sorry for her naivety for a second, but I remember that this is better for the both of us. She zooms up the stairs. I follow after and go into my room, grabbing everything I can.