DO YOU THINK I KILLED HIM?

As I saw my mum and so-called dad, my dark eerie mind began to work; with each step they took toward me, my mind produced several thoughts.

I knew my mum so well to believe some of the thoughts my mind produced. My mum will never believe that I killed my brother even if she saw me with a bleeding knife beside my brother's carcass.

She will always think it an accident, one that I never got involved in. She thinks of me to be so innocent and naive. So dumb of her.

She's just lucky I love her so much, if not she would have been long gone. She's just too much of a simp to live.

I could hear their running steps drawing nearer and so I pretended to do what every kid my age would have done. I started yelling for help too.

I knew my so-called dad will have something to murmur about if he got to the scene and saw me not screaming so I did not just want to give the impression that will prompt him to say anything. I hate hearing him speak. Everything about him irritates me.

They finally got to me and to make whatever I'll say to them once they ask meaningful to the ears, I began crying and shivering while blowing in non-realistic hiccups.

Mum wrapped her arms around me as she sighted my shivering body and pulled me into her. I smiled inwardly, that's more like her. Forgot to check on her dead son just to steady the killer of her son's health. Well, she's as dumb as she will ever be.

"It's an accident mum, I don't know how it happened. I pushed him up and was waiting for him to land but his hands mistakenly slipped off and before I could catch him it was already too late. I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I sobbed coughing out and blowing in more hiccups.

"It's ok darling. It's not your fault. Please stop crying. Mummy is here for you," she cooed and rubbed my back.

I smiled within myself and slowly turned to my so-called dad. My brother is in his arms and he had traces of tears in his eyes. It was the very first time I saw him cry. I loved it so dearly.

It made me wish to wake my brother and kill him all over again just to watch dad cry more. I just wish he can cry blood. Or the least hit his head against a rock and die. I'll be more than happy. He glared at me as his gaze landed on me and clenched his fist.

"I know you did this, you witch! I know you did!" He pointed at me, his breath so erratic that I could smell the acidity in it.

I furrowed myself deeper into my mum, hiding in her body. "Dad wants to kill me, mum. He is pointing at me." I shook my body so she could feel whatever she might think I'm feeling.

"No one is killing you, darling. No one." She caressed my hair. "Why are you scaring our daughter? Why! What kinda father are you?"

I never saw her eyes or expression but I knew she was glaring at him right now. The image was so clear to me. It made my heart elated.

I loved it whenever she stood up for me and herself.

I just loved hearing her bark at that man. Part of the reason I did what I did.

"Your witch of a daughter must pay for what she did! I know she killed my boy. And I'll make sure she pays for it with her blood! That is a promise!" I heard him stand and walk away leaving just me and mum.

I smirked. He can go to hell for all I care. The pain in his voice was enough to make my night. I raised my head to stare at my mum and she had traces of tears in her eyes.

"Why are you crying mum?" I sighed. Just as much as I loved seeing my so-called dad cry is as much as I hated seeing mum cry. Her cries hurt me so deeply. I just couldn't stand it.

She quickly wiped off her tears and gradually stood up. "It's nothing darling. Let's go."

I knew she must be crying because of my brother so didn't bother persuading her to tell me. I just stood up and entwined my hands with hers and we strolled out.

I glanced back at the spot my brother died and smiled. I loved myself greatly for such a brave act.

"Are you sure you have no hand in your brother's death darling?" Mum suddenly asked as we were about to cross the road.

Of course, I do mum. I killed him. And you know the sweetest part? I wish I could do it all over again. But then I'm not stupid to say that out loud. I lowered my head and being who I am tears freely flowed out of my eyes down my cheeks. "You think I killed my only brother mum? You think I killed my sweet brother? You are joining dad?" I sobbed loudly that some passerby turned. I guess they wanted to know what might be wrong with the young girl.

"No, no darling. Don't say that. Mummy was just asking. Mummy trusts you more than anything. Please stop crying." She lowered a bit and wiped off my tears with her fingers and rubbed my back.

That was the end of the talk. Mum never brought up the discussion. And never believed that I had a hand in my brother's death.

But my so-called dad? He never rested. He was so bent on his belief. And I didn't for one day cry to him that I didn't kill my brother.

I gave him the feeling that I killed my brother in the little ways I could and dared him to do his worst.

For weeks he and mum quarreled over it. All that was heard in those moments were the breaking of cups, mirrors, plates– everything, screaming at the top of their voices, threatening each other and the rest I can't seem to remember.

Don't blame me, I don't think anyone would want to keep records of the aftereffect of their first murder case.

I don't even think it should be called murder. I only expressed my good sweet emotions.