I don’t know what to do. I just want Chloe out of my house. Maybe if I don’t have to see her every day, then I don’t have to look at her face and wonder how she can take so much pleasure from killing another human being.
I just need her gone. Hopefully, it’s only a matter of time.
But her leaving is not the only thing that time will tell.
I will find out if she is planning to kill again one day too.
40
CHLOE
I feel like I’m just getting started.
It’s my first day at university, but more than that, it feels like the first day of the rest of my life. I’m eighteen now, and I’ve moved out of home, leaving Mum and my town behind for the freedom and unpredictability of new friends and a new place.
As I stand here in the middle of campus and look around me, I see so much opportunity.
Opportunity to meet new people. Opportunity to learn new things.
And the opportunity to fulfil my fantasies of taking another life.
These last few months at home with Mum have been trying for a variety of reasons, but perhaps the biggest one was that I knew she was watching me like a hawk to see if I was even thinking about committing another act of violence. The problem with me being honest with her on that night Jimmy died is that she now knows exactly the kind of person I am. She knows how I am not just used to seeing death but actively crave it these days, and obviously that has led to our relationship souring somewhat since then.
Mum is no longer warm with me, instead, she treated me like a houseguest rather than a daughter as she counted down until the day when I would pack my things and move out to go to uni. There were no more friendly chats about our day or harmless gossiping about some juicy bit of celebrity news. Nor were there any offers or invites to go shopping on a Saturday afternoon anymore. She didn’t even buy me anything to celebrate me getting the results I needed in my exams. Instead, she has just treated me like somebody she must now tolerate in her life.
That has obviously led to me feeling bad about how things have turned out, although I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to do about it. It’s clear that what I witnessed when I saw her kill Tim in our house has had a profound impact on me and influenced the person I am today. I highly doubt that I would have a fascination with drawing blood and taking life from another human being if I hadn’t first seen her do it in our living room when I was seven. I get that she didn’t know I had seen her, but that doesn’t change the fact that she still did it. She killed a man, and then she buried him.
Why is she finding it so difficult to understand why I am now capable of doing the same thing?
As my guardian and role model, I have become just like her, just like any other child who becomes like theirs. Some people pick up on their parents’ sense of humour or knack for numbers. Some see their parents do a good deed for a stranger, and it makes them want to do the same thing when they are old enough.
And some people witness their mother kill a man and decide that they want to experience it for themselves too one day.
The problem I have now, and I’m not sure if my mum knows this yet, is that I’m not satisfied now I have killed. Rupert was one thing. I was a novice. It was a little scary. But Jimmy was different. I had great fun with him.
And now I want to do it all again.
Looking around at all the people streaming by me on this busy campus, I can see that I’m not exactly short of potential targets. But I must be patient, and I must be careful.
I need to settle in. Find my way around.
Find out where the best places to hide a body here are.
Setting off in the direction of my new accommodation, I feel like this is the fresh start that not only I need, but Mum needs too. With me out of the house, she will surely have an easier time getting on with things and pushing away the pain that comes with knowing her only child is damaged goods. My plan is to give her as much time as she needs to get used to this new reality, meaning I won’t be calling home for a while, nor do I have any plans to visit before the first term is out. I can only hope that my absence helps seal the bond that has been broken between us and that one day, we are able to be as close as we used to be.
It’s not entirely Mum’s fault that I have turned out the way I am. I take some responsibility for that too. After all, I could have just told a policeman what I saw my mummy do to Tim that night, which would have technically been the right thing to do, just like she could have told the police that I killed Rupert, solving the mystery that continues to plague my hometown to this day. But neither of us spoke to the police, which means that not only do we still need each other, but we still love each other.
I know I still love her.
And I do miss her.
But I’m excited for what the future will bring.
I’m excited to meet
