A Most Unusual Story

Milah ran through the dark and dank alleyway. The cold air stings against her already rose colored cheeks. Her mother told her to run, after much of a fight, she did. When a few minutes passed and her mother didn't follow, she turned back.

To her complete horror, her mother lay there in a pool of her own blood. She ran to her side. "Mom, mom can you hear me?" She cried trying to wake her already dying mother. With no surprise she did not wake.

She lay there in the street with her mother's corpse. Milah, who was 10, being the child she was, didn't really know what to do. She decided to go with her gut instinct and run home to where her father was. Their home was only a few blocks away from where her mother’s body lay.

She began the familiar path back home. The market and her school were close to each other and her mother normally sent her there on her way home from school to get whatever she needed. Milah never put up a fight she always did what she was told. It was who she was. She never questioned her elders or anyone who told her anything. It was something she was taught from a young age not to do. Especially when it came to her parents. She wasn’t to question them ever. It was the ultimate transgression in her life. She would be slapped if she were to question them.

When she was around four she asked her mother about what her job was and her mother said “If I tell you, you will be taken away and you can never see me or your father again.”

Milah, didn’t understand what her mother had meant so she asked, “Why?”

Her mother calmly said “Honey like I said you will be taken away.”

Milah was getting frustrated with her mother not answering and yelled “Why can’t you just tell me?” Her mother slapped her promptly. Milah gazed at her mother in shock, tears forming in her eyes.

Her parents never hit her before or after that one incident. Milah learned quickly. Her parents knew her well enough that they only had to discipline her once and she understood. Now she wonders if this, her mother’s work, was what happened just then. Was this someone with a grudge? Or was this pure bad luck?

She arrived at her apartment building, winded from her sprint. She tried to continue her sprint up the stairs to her apartment and her father. He would know what to do. She ran through the door. Her father was lying on one kitchen floor, knife in his neck and blood pooling around him. She was really all alone now. Both her parents dead and no other family to turn to. She knew that she wasn’t going anywhere good when people realized her parents were dead. Nothing good could come from it. It was time to run.

She ran to the only place she knew other than school or home, the market. When she arrived the workers all gathered around her and questioned her about the blood. She didn’t say anything she just stood there. They called the police. There was nothing she could do other than wait for the cops to arrive and take her away. Not what she was looking forward to on what was a good day until now.

When the police arrived she decided to go with them without a fight. They brought her to the precinct where she was questioned about everything. Her witness statement looked like this:

Officer: “So tell me everything that happened.”

Milah: “Me and my mom were on our way home from the market when three men came out of no where. They wanted money so my mom gave them the money she had. Then they tried to take her so she told me to run. I ran for a while until I noticed she didn’t follow me then I turned back. That’s when I found her dead on the ground. She was surrounded by blood and the men were gone. That’s when I ran home to get my dad. When I got there he was on the kitchen floor with a knife in his neck and blood around him too. I decided I should go find help so I went to the market and then you came and got me.”

“Can you tell me anything about the men who tried to take your mom’s money?”

“One was really tall with black hair and the other was smaller and had brown hair.”

“Thank you Milah.”

Milah finally found out her mother’s job. After years of wondering and fear of asking she was finally told. Her mother was a cop. Not just any cop though, she was an undercover cop who worked on drug cases. She wasn’t allowed to know because she would have been kidnapped by a gang or some crazy psycho who wanted their drugs. Her mother was a colleague of all the cops on her case. Even with the rule of not working on personal cases, they made an exception for her.

Milah grew up in the foster system and never got adopted by anyone. A lot of her life went by in a blur after that. She didn’t remember much of school or her foster families. She just existed. She didn’t have many friends but the friends she did have were never around much. Only when she needed them. When she turned 18, she finally had her chance at a good life.

She went to college and found a boyfriend, then they got married shortly after. She went on to have children with him even after the miscarriages she faced previously. They had two wonderful children. She had her temptations to just quit at life and do the wrong thing, but she never gave up. She went through hell and back trying to make sure her life was good.

When she was growing up she only trusted one adult in her life and that was her social worker. She told Milah how she could go through life without getting into drugs and drinking, and how to lead a better life than she had ever known. This woman was her life but she sadly passed away when Milah was 21. That was when she realized her life could end anytime and she needed to get it together. She finished college a year later.

Milah got a job as a social worker and tried to help kids who were in a similar situation to what she went through. All she wanted was to make a difference in the world like her mother said she would. She never stopped believing that all her life.

When she had her children she gave them the best life she could and her husband did the same. Their children grew up having the life Milah wished she had had. She probably would have if it weren’t for that incident.

“Milah stop talking to yourself in there.” A nurse yells at her from outside her room.

“Who’s Milah?” She replies in a confused tone. “I’m Cecilia.”

The nurse rolls her eyes and keeps going on her rounds. She comes back some time later with Milah’s medicine. She has to force it down her throat. It begins to take effect a short time later.

“Hello nurse.” I say when she walks by. “What a nice day it is today, don’t you think?” I smile. I stand from my bed and walk towards her. “Thank you for all you have done for me.”

“Just my job.” She replies with an uneasy smile.

I jump towards her with the scalpel I had been hiding behind my back. “You really thought these pills would work? You are not so lucky. I have been waiting years for you all to fall under the assumption I was just an innocent child and now you all believe it. Maybe this will teach you for being so gullible.”



I plunge the scalpel into her neck just as I did my father’s. The feeling of the flesh ripping was what I had missed all of these years in this stupid hospital. The blood started squirting out of her neck and it hit me in the face. I wiped it off with my sleeve. I stand from her now lifeless body and take her keys. The previously spotless, white room is now stained red on the floors and ceiling, a familiar sight. I head to the door and unlock it.

When I get out I head to the nearest staff closet and grabbed a set of scrubs. I put them on and washed myself up. I went towards the front door and walked outside into the fresh air I haven’t felt since I was 10. And since my mother slapped me in the face and my father did nothing to stop it. They had to pay. There was no way they were getting away with that. Good thing my friends wanted to help me too. They are the best. Too bad they live inside my head.

You met one of them today actually. Her name is Cecilia. She has always been the story teller. Then there’s James, he is my protector. They all help me somehow, they help me forget and help get over everything. That’s why I love them.

I am finally free. I smile in delight as I remember the money I also took from the nurse. I call a cab and head back to the street where my favorite memories were. When the cab pulls over I pay him and step out. The street I once lived on was now a deserted ghost town. I go to my apartment where I saw my father last. Inside I can see that someone tried to clean my glorious stains from the walls, ceilings, and floor. To no avail of course.

I did too good a job for them to be able to get rid of that. I smile to myself as the memory of that night arises back to the front of my thoughts. My mother mad at me for getting in trouble at school and her yelling at me. At some point I just lost it and I punched her in the stomach. When she hunched over I hit her in the head with a rock and she fell to the ground. To make sure I finished what I started I grabbed a bigger rock and hit her once more.

That's when I ran home to my father. He was fuming from my behavior as well. He was obviously drunk, I could smell it from across the room. He saw the blood on me and the color drained from his face. I grabbed a knife from the counter and sliced his leg. He fell to the ground in pain. I plunged the knife into his neck. Then again, and again. The blood was everywhere. I stared at his corpse as I stood. I had finally done it. I smiled to myself.

I wasn't lying when I said I went to the market because I did that. The cops did come and I was taken for questioning. Instead of what you saw before it was more like this:

Officer: "So what happened?"

Me: " Well my mom was mad at me and slapped me. Then I decided not to deal with her and I punched her in the stomach. Then I hit her in the head with a rock. I made sure she was dead by hitting with an even bigger one. As for my dad he was mad at me too, he was in the kitchen when I got home. He was about 6 feet tall and towered over me. I grabbed a knife off the counter and cut his leg. He bent over in pain and I pierced his neck. He died a lot quicker than my mother. “

Officer: “Why did you do it?”

Me: “You see when someone makes you mad I’m sure you lash out. Yell at them, maybe even hit or throw something. So I did. I threw a punch and a knife and a rock. All I did was take years of anger out of me.”

Officer: “Um. I think we’re done here. Guards come get her.”

That officer squirmed at every last word I said that day. They put me up on trial but as a minor. My sentence, rehabilitation in a mental hospital. That’s where I was until today when I decided my rehabilitation was over. Being back at my old apartment brings back memories I had pushed down inside for all these years.

The memories of all the assault I suffered. My father’s constant drunk beatings and my mother’s constant blows from her stress. I would have to cover my bruises and cuts before I went to school everyday. I became good at hiding. I hid when I got to from the beatings. When I got to the mental hospital after I killed them the beatings continued. The other inmates would beat me up saying “You gave up the thing we all wish we had. Parents”. There was no escape for me anywhere. The guards and nurses took some pity on me as they gave me my own room eventually. I betrayed their trust today. And for that I am eternally sorry. They were the only people in my life who ever seemed to truly care.

I walk through the now rotting apartment back to my old bedroom. A tiny closet sized thing. I decide to sit on the floor for a moment. Remembering the time I found a mouse and tried to keep it as a pet. One day a few weeks later my mother found the mouse while I was at school. When she picked me up that day she told me she had a surprise waiting at home for me. That day I ran home excited to see what she had gotten me, hoping she had finally changed her ways. I got home and saw blood on the kitchen counter. I looked to find the source and saw my pet mouse, headless and now lifeless. That was my turning point.

That was a few weeks before the incident happened. Those few weeks all I thought of was ways to get rid of my all my problems. I contemplated running away, calling the police, finding a way to die, anything to escape.

That’s when I went to school and came across a book. A book about other kids who were abused, that killed their parents. They would forget who they were, or came up with a different personality and try to cope with what was happening around them. Some of them would be diagnosed with schizophrenia or multiple personality disorder. As far as I knew I had neither.

That’s when the idea popped into my head. That’s when I planned out what I was going to do. I was going to get into trouble at school. I would set off the fire alarm or something small as putting a tack on a teacher’s chair, anything to get my parents mad at me. I knew my mother would pick me up from school then and my father would come home drunk from work. I planned to make it look like self defense but as soon as I started I couldn’t stop.

A Few Months Later...

I have gotten a job and cleaned up the apartment, painted over the stains and gotten my life somewhat on track. I have killed again though. This woman who came through my workplace just couldn’t keep her mouth shut so I did what had to be done. Her body is in my freezer right now until I can figure out how to get rid of her.

If you think I'm scary, you should be happy to hear that I could be your co worker, your best friend, maybe even the person standing next to you. There are a lot of us out there. By us I mean people who kill, they exist anywhere people exist. You will be happy to know that you just may be lucky enough to meet one of us really soon.