For many years, I was totally consumed with the thought of how I was going to serve the monster who robbed me of everything justice. Being a smart young girl, I understood from the onset that attempting to kill him the way he killed my best friend would be a suicide mission. I had to research other elimination options I could use without putting myself in harm’s way.
Nothing in our house at that time offered any kind of solution to the dilemma I needed to deal with. So at twelve years of age, without breathing a word about my intent and resolution to another soul, I embarked on my mission. I visited the library more often in my spare time to build on my research. To avoid suspicion, I made it a rule never to borrow any of those related books out of the library. I read all I could about it right there in the library.
Most of the materials I read did not speak about elimination options expressly which was okay. I knew what I was looking for though I couldn’t say what it was specifically. I knew I wasn’t looking for gruesome neither was I looking for vicious or brutal options. A sweet lullaby kind of option was more like it. An option you’d never see coming, an option that would leave no trace.
Consumed by the research, I didn’t even realize I was developing a strong extensive knowledge base in myself. I was learning beyond my curriculum which was a good thing. My oblivious parents on the other hand were just too delighted to have such a studious teenage daughter who would choose a visit to the library over a day in the park without hesitation.
Shortly before the fourth year anniversary of Amanda’s death and my sixteenth birthday, I found it. Yes! I found it. I drew my conclusion, it was the perfect elimination option for “Mr. Monster” who lived eight houses away from her. This eureka moment caused me to breathe a sigh of relief for I was certain his end was near.
To the unsuspecting, I successfully maintained a cordial relationship with him in the neighbourhood. I was the only one who knew he wasn’t my friend. As a matter of fact, who was going to suspect any foul play?
Being the sole custodian of the true story about what really happened, I was in the control seat of “our relationship”. He didn’t see me on that fateful night and for a long time, he carried on with his ‘pious’ lifestyle as perceived by the neighbors though I knew it was just camouflage. The children on the street loved him because he would always offer them candies. He believed he had gotten away with the perfect crime.
Since her death, he showed me extra kindness and would often ask me to share a cup of tea with him on his front porch as I walked pass his house towards the library. I never declined his invites. Sometimes, I took mother’s freshly baked muffins along with me. He had become fond of them. Our little spontaneous tea parties never lasted more than ten minutes and the venue never changed.
It was always on his porch right across Mrs. Griffin’s house, the old lady who saw everything that went down on the street. I still wonder if she ever left that side of her front window because years after I’d left home I learned she literally breathed her last breath at that very spot. Poor old lady, she lived alone for so many years but then I digress!
…To be concluded in Part 3
Follow link for The Femme Killer Part 1
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“Earlier in the course, you wrote about losing something. Today, write about finding something. For your twist, view day four’s post and today’s post as installments in a series.”