Little David

Blood was dripping as she laid the knife down. She took a deep breath, let it out slowly, feeling a bit elated and sick at the same time. She had accomplished her goal. There was no more fighting, or biting, he lay there. Dead.

She walked away from the table and slid the plastic apron from her neck. Meticulously she checked to see if any of the blood had spattered her new jeans or the cute pink shirt with Hanna Montana spelled out in rhinestones. Her deed would not be discovered until much later. After dinner; maybe she would reveal all.

The house was quiet, she would be alone for hours. Her hand shook a bit as it swept her blond hair out of her eyes. Wishing she had thought to bring home some of those plastic gloves they had at school; it would have been easy to slip them in her bag. She hadn't known then that she would be killing; little David.

He was a pest, following her around constantly bugging her. He messed up her school work, got into her drawers tossing her stuff on the floor. Her mother had yelled at her, blaming her for leaving her drawer open for him to get into in the first place. Little David was stupid, she hadn’t wanted him in the first place. When her mother had told her they were going to have an addition to the family she had balked. She was not going to babysit anymore and that was it. She still felt the anger turning her face hot. When he had run into her leg and almost tripped her down the farm house stairs, it was the last straw!

“Nor more! That is it, he is dead.” she went into killing mode.

The queasy feeling was gone now. She ran water over him flushing the blood down the drain. Behind her, on the stove, the lid began to rattle on the pot. It was time. Only very not water would take all the feathers off a duck.