BEL chapter two
Chapter two! Hope you guys like it!
The night before
"Mom, Dalton is throwing a party on Saturday. His parents are going out of town, so he has the whole house to himself. Don't worry; I'll be home before noon on Sunday."
"You know you aren't allowed to go to parties without parental supervision. Dalton knows that too. I don't like the way he is treating you."
"Dalton treats me better than anyone else does. You should see the way Chad treats Emmalyn. Let's just say, it's a wonder she isn't pregnant, the way he pushes her around."
"If Emmalyn was smart she would break up with Chad and find someone who respects her the way she deserves. I don't want you to continue to date Dalton. You deserve someone who will respect you and the rules you have to follow. You aren't going to that party."
"So you let me wear close-to-nothing tops and skin-tight skirts and dance around for cheerleading, but you won't let me go to a small get together at my boyfriend's house? This is so unfair. I am going."
"No, you are not."
"Yes I am. You can't stop me."
"I am your mother and I decide what you can and cannot do. I will not let you go to the party and that is final."
"I-I hate you!" I started yelling. I was beyond angry at this point. She always thought she could control every aspect of my life, but she couldn't. She was going to learn her lesson, one way or another. "I don't love you; I never have. You are way too controlling. I am going to the party, and that is final. I am going to bed now. If you are smart, you will be out of the house before I wake up tomorrow." I stormed up to my room and slammed the door.
The next day
I woke up to the sound of my mother putting a letter on my bedroom door. I couldn't believe that she had the nerve to continue talking about respect. First, Dalton didn't respect me, and now I don't respect her. She had this crazy delusion that she could ground me from cheerleading. She would soon learn that nothing could stand in my way.
I walked down the stairs and found my mother watching TV in the living room. She looked back at me and gave me the worst death glare. I gave it right back to her. The whole house was silent as we held our intense gaze. I broke the glare and walked into the kitchen to make my breakfast, when I saw my father's lunchbox on the counter.
"Where is dad?" I didn't want to talk to my mother, but I wanted to break the eerie silence. My father usually goes to work before I wake up, and gets home after I go to sleep. But seeing his lunchbox on the counter meant that he could possibly be home and I could see him.
"Work." From the kitchen, I could see her roll her eyes. I could tell from her one worded answer that she didn't want to talk, which is why I kept asking questions.
"Why is his lunch here?"
"He forgot it."
"What will he do for food?"
"Either buy it or come home to get it. Stop talking now, your pitchy voice is giving me a headache." I wanted so bad to slap her, but I held myself back. I took a deep breath and told myself she wasn't worth it. I would get my revenge; I just had to wait for the right time.
My mind ran wild planning my revenge, which caused nervous and excited butterflies in my stomach. I wasn't hungry for breakfast, so I decided to skip it and make my lunch for school. It was Friday, which meant my lunch would consist of a tomato sandwich and a small bag of potato chips. I reached into the cabinet to my left to grab the bread, but an unopened jar of pickles fell out and shattered on the floor. My mother jumped up from the couch and ran into the kitchen. She was crazy mad.
"Annabel Lane, that was a brand new jar! I needed that for tonight's dinner! I can't believe you did this, you little klutz! You are nothing but a pain, and I wish you were never born!"
"And I wish you were dead." I grabbed a big knife from the knife rack to my right and shoved it into her left leg. She screamed in pain and started to shout profanities. I pulled the knife out and shoved it into her upper stomach, between two ribs. She screamed again. I couldn't help but to grin a little bit. For once in my life, I was in control. I pulled the knife out again, pushed her to the ground, and stood above her. I felt so powerful.
I awoke from my power-hungry trance when I heard the garage door open. My father walked into the kitchen and instantly stopped in his tracks.
"What have you done?" I could see the sorrow and fear in his eyes.
"I killed her." There was no use beating around the bush. I was standing over a dead body holding a bloody knife. He wouldn't believe me if I said I was making a sandwich.
"But why?" "She was getting the way, holding me back. She wished I had never been born. If she had been dead sooner, she might have gotten her wish, so I granted it by preventing any more 'mistake' children. I did her a favor. She practically asked for it."
"You are a monster!"
"I wish you hadn't said that." By that point, I was standing in front of him. I took the knife and stabbed him twice, in the same places, and pushed him to the ground. He looked at me, and with his last breath, he said "Why Annabel?" Then he was gone.
I washed the knife in the sink and watched the blood swirl down the drain. The thin red liquid filled the bottom of the white sink, creating the most beautiful shade of pink. A little drop fell on my finger. I wondered whose blood it was; my mother's, my father's, or a mixture of the two.
I wiped my hands on a dishtowel and turned back to my parents. They just lay there, but they didn't look peaceful. The looks on their faces told me that they suffered. That thought made me beam with joy. For my whole life, they were the ones making me suffer. The tables had finally turned in my favor.
The red goo seeped through their clothes and oozed on the floor. Now you would think that I would worry about what to do with the bodies, but I didn't. I had it all planned out.
I went into my garage and dragged the tallest ladder into the kitchen. It was heavy, but my determination to finish the job made it seem lighter. But getting the ladder in the house was the easy part. It would be a lot more difficult to lift the bodies and carry them up the ladder.
My dad was first; the heaviest of the two. I hoisted him up onto my shoulders and started climbing. Luckily, being a cheerleader made me stronger and more able to do lifts like this. I draped my father's body over the wooden rail, and then climbed down to get mother. She was lighter, so it was easier. I climbed down, closed the ladder, propped it up against the wall, and backed up to look at my masterpiece.
This would be a horrible sight for whoever would stumble upon it. I wanted people to see it, to see what happens to people who treat me the way that they did. They wanted respect. Well, they should have respected me. Maybe if they had, they wouldn't have died in such a horrible way.
The floor was a mess. A ton of shards of glass floated in the pools of blood and pickle juice. I grabbed a mop from the coat closet and started cleaning up. The kitchen floor was made of tiles, so it cleaned up quite nicely. I put the mop back in its rightful place and finished packing up for school. The letter was sitting on the counter, next to the lunchbox, where I had put it. I grabbed it, crumpled it up, getting a thumb-print of blood on it, and threw it on the ground. I still wore the smile on my face. I looked down on my cheer outfit to see if there were any blood stains, and there was a small one on my skirt. Oh well, I thought, _I will wash it when I get home after school. _
Walking down the hallway and to my front door was a long walk, after just murdering my parents. I thought about what they had said to me, their last words. I thought about how my mother called me Annabel Lane, and my father's last words were Why Annabel.
I reached the front door and opened it. I turned to face my house again, and said what I had wanted to say for a long time. Annabel, I thought, ha, what a silly name. Sure, I would soon be her again, but for now, this is who I am.
"My name is Jezebel."