Some Short Stories

Villain

A short story about a villain's point of view

"When I killed her," my breathe quivers and shakes along with my hands and the tears in my eyes, "it felt," no I can't say that don't say that anything but that "nice." I felt accomplished, like I had finally taken a step in the right direction, but I suppose 'nice' sums it up pretty well. It's better than 'rewarding' or 'satisfying'. They would have put me in a straight jacket faster than you can say 'seven documented counts of murder', I guarantee you.

"Why do you think this is?". Dr Crimson looks at me, concerned, as he says this. My palms are sweating, but if I don't speak he'll think I'm planning a suicide bombing or something. I'm not the kind of girl to just go on murderous rampages for no reason, but everybody else seems to think otherwise.

"I just.....I don't know, I guess I thought it was right."

"How so?"

I reply quietly, because I don't think Dr Crimson wants to hear this. "Well she'd been in prison five times. One for theft, one for smuggling drugs, and three for kidnapping. She escaped every time. I just thought that if jail wasn't going to do anything then I'd have to kill her."

"Maddison," sighs Crimson, and I look up at him with either anticipation or fear, I'm not quite sure. "You can't keep doing this. I'm sure you want to help people, but you're just adding to this whole mess. Killing people will add to the fear. You need to understand that."

My fists tighten and the tears come back. I bang on the table and stand up. "Well what else are we suppose to do!?" I scream. "Just keep putting them all in jail!? When they get out, they're not going to be a different person! I hope you realise that!" My red face covered in tears, Dr. Crimson simply hands me a tissue and leaves. I guess he's used to this now.

I'm staring up at the peeling white paint on the ceiling and lying on my flimsy bed,  wondering why nobody sees the world the way I do. Actually, forget wondering. I'm obsessing over the topic. The thoughts have consumed me, it's a wonder I can still see the worn ceiling and not the events playing out in my head. It just doesn't make sense to me, though. That woman probably took 50 drugs a day and stole preschools kids in her spare time. Just for kicks. I don't care about how loving her family was because she didn't deserve it. Louise Cronnell wasn't going to change, jail did nothing, and her children were not safe. I had to kill her.

More coming soon!
Hopefully
More coming at some point.