Writing this down didn’t help at all. I thought it would give me some kind of perspective. Purge me of what terror I now harbor in the depths of my soul. Allay the guilt.
“I’m not crazy!” I hollered to no one at all, still sawing through my last pipe. Squeaking, grinding. Grinding, squeaking. The sewer drain sloshing.
“That’s Mom. She gets LOUD when she’s hungry.” Then she just continued drawing, utterly unfazed.
Dread put its cold hands around my heart and squeezed.
“So…just have sex? With random girls?”
“I mean, it’s just … it’s just a mirror, right? What’s the point?”
“I didn’t kill her. It did.”