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unforthI hated Mondays, and I was glad that this one, at least, appeared to be over at last. I walked up to my door, and was only mildly surprised to find that the door was unlocked. My daughter, always a fool, frequently didn’t remember to lock the damn thing when she got home. I smiled quietly to myself, though. Today, I was prepared to forgive her almost any indiscretion. Today, my little girl, my darling baby girl, grew up. Sweet 16, on the same day as junior prom, few girls were that lucky, few girls would get the double glory that my darling would earn tonight.
It blew my mind, really, how quickly the time had passed. Her mother, she’d never wanted anything to do with me, but she’d never wanted a kid either, and so when she turned out pregnant, she told me that unless I’d take the kid she was going to lose it. Well, I couldn’t allow that, I don’t know, it just seemed wrong to do something like that to a little baby, so I took the kid. It took me almost 4 years to convince myself that that wasn’t the stupidest thing I’d ever done, and I’ve done a lot of really stupid things. Looking back now, I wouldn’t give it up for the world.
It’d almost be time for her to go now. I was glad that I’d made it back in time to see her sweeping off on the arm of her date. All this crossed my mind as I opened the door, taking off my coat, hanging it on the peg I’d put there, closing the door behind me, turning into the entrance hall.
For a moment I could do nothing but stare, horrified. My baby, my darling, wasn’t smiling at me as I’d expected her to be. My baby, my darling, would never smile again. She hung, improbably, from the wall, her face covered in a red mask, her blood dripping slowly off her chin and nose to flow down the growing smear on her legs, more red than the red of her dress. The end of something metal was barely visible in the blood pooled in her empty eye socket. A crossbow bolt, some part of my brain thought with frightening detachment. It’d been years seen I’d seen one, but some memories just don’t fade. It was a message for me, a message they knew I couldn’t possibly miss. Damn, my baby looked beautiful in her prom dress. It was going to be the best night of her life. She’d spent days picking the perfect dress, looking through magazines, saving her pocket money, she knew she wasn’t queen of the prom material, but she’d picked so well, it flattered in all the right places and hid in the all right places. She was my beautiful child, waiting to greet me when I finally got home from work.
Many in my position would have been very upset. Many would have fallen to their knees, sobbing, or rushed to the phone to call desperately for help, holding on to the distant hope that some life might remain in the still body. Many people weren’t much like me, though. I’d had quite a life. Indeed, given many of the events of my youth, in some respects I wasn’t even surprised, and I wasn’t upset in the normal way. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I was definitely upset, but not the way a regular person would have been. Instead, a quiet anger grew in my heart, bringing with it a distinct sense of calm and a vague feeling of purpose. Turning around, to all outside appearances acting completely normal, I picked my hay back up, put my coat back on, and left again, exactly as I had just come, locking the door behind me. I ignored my daughters date, even now going to knock on my door, even knowing that when the body was discovered, this would serve to incriminate me. It didn’t matter; the crime had been designed to look like my work from the start.
It blew my mind, really, how quickly the time had passed. Her mother, she’d never wanted anything to do with me, but she’d never wanted a kid either, and so when she turned out pregnant, she told me that unless I’d take the kid she was going to lose it. Well, I couldn’t allow that, I don’t know, it just seemed wrong to do something like that to a little baby, so I took the kid. It took me almost 4 years to convince myself that that wasn’t the stupidest thing I’d ever done, and I’ve done a lot of really stupid things. Looking back now, I wouldn’t give it up for the world.
It’d almost be time for her to go now. I was glad that I’d made it back in time to see her sweeping off on the arm of her date. All this crossed my mind as I opened the door, taking off my coat, hanging it on the peg I’d put there, closing the door behind me, turning into the entrance hall.
For a moment I could do nothing but stare, horrified. My baby, my darling, wasn’t smiling at me as I’d expected her to be. My baby, my darling, would never smile again. She hung, improbably, from the wall, her face covered in a red mask, her blood dripping slowly off her chin and nose to flow down the growing smear on her legs, more red than the red of her dress. The end of something metal was barely visible in the blood pooled in her empty eye socket. A crossbow bolt, some part of my brain thought with frightening detachment. It’d been years seen I’d seen one, but some memories just don’t fade. It was a message for me, a message they knew I couldn’t possibly miss. Damn, my baby looked beautiful in her prom dress. It was going to be the best night of her life. She’d spent days picking the perfect dress, looking through magazines, saving her pocket money, she knew she wasn’t queen of the prom material, but she’d picked so well, it flattered in all the right places and hid in the all right places. She was my beautiful child, waiting to greet me when I finally got home from work.
Many in my position would have been very upset. Many would have fallen to their knees, sobbing, or rushed to the phone to call desperately for help, holding on to the distant hope that some life might remain in the still body. Many people weren’t much like me, though. I’d had quite a life. Indeed, given many of the events of my youth, in some respects I wasn’t even surprised, and I wasn’t upset in the normal way. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I was definitely upset, but not the way a regular person would have been. Instead, a quiet anger grew in my heart, bringing with it a distinct sense of calm and a vague feeling of purpose. Turning around, to all outside appearances acting completely normal, I picked my hay back up, put my coat back on, and left again, exactly as I had just come, locking the door behind me. I ignored my daughters date, even now going to knock on my door, even knowing that when the body was discovered, this would serve to incriminate me. It didn’t matter; the crime had been designed to look like my work from the start.
