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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1818002-Motivation
Rated: E · Other · Death · #1818002
Murder, babys and a pregna girl.....read to find out more
Motive


The thirty-something nurse rushed over and plopped this small, red screaming thing into my arms. I looked down at this thing that was supposedly my child, my own blood, with pure hatred and disgust. This was the thing that was keeping me from my future. Because of It, I’ll probably never go to college and end up in a dead beat job, working long hours just to support It. Tears suddenly sprang to my eyes. No! I thought angrily; I will not let this thing run my life. My life will not revolve around It! I am not about to endure sleepless nights, aching muscles and headaches all for this thing.
Had Aaron not left, this would be a little easier to endure. Unfortunately, as soon as I told him I was pregnant, he moved the very next day, three towns over with his twenty-five- year-old sister and her boyfriend. Mom and I both reacted very differently upon hearing this news. Mom wanted to track him down and make him start paying Child-Support, where as I became bitter, angry, and heartbroken, all at the same time. I had wanted to go out with my friends one last time and get sloppy-drunk to forget that day, forget about how I’m going to finish school with this thing and if I’m even going to have it (of course Mom just had to be one of those people who detested abortion and said that I’m going to have to just face the consequences). Mom always told me guys like Aaron could never be trusted. For once she was right.
Mom and I have never really agreed on anything since Dad died three years ago when I was fourteen. He’d died of cancer and after the funeral and Mom and I became even more distant and she became more mercenary. Every time I would put something on to go out with my friends, she would look me and sneer and say, “You aren’t going to wear that, are you?”
With much begging and pleading, I convinced Mom not to track him down. As much as I hated him now, deep in my shattered heart I still loved him and didn’t want to see him suffer by having to try and support the baby he didn’t want. I didn’t want to tie him down anymore than I already had. I now know what that feels like.
Aaron had been my first love. He had an adorable mop of curly dark brown hair and a slightly bumpy nose. But it was his eyes that got me to notice him. They were a deep, mysterious green that shifted colors depending on his mood. When he left after I told him about the baby, the very next day, I decided that men could never be trusted and gave up on love entirely.
Aaron had cut off all contact with me. He’d changed his number, got a new e-mail, and blocked me on Facebook. He hadn’t even tried to get a look at his daughter that had inherited his nose and soft curly brown hair. It definitely had my long lashes and dark blue eyes, though. But, this thing that looked like me was a serious mistake, a mistake that cost me my friends, my love, and my mother’s trust.
I almost gave up on my plan to get rid of this thing until I read in the news how these scientists did a study with some orphans in Switzerland. They gave them no human contact whatsoever- with the exception of feeding them of course. Turns out, with no human contact, a baby won’t live to even one-years-old. It was the perfect plan! All I had to do was never really cuddle or play with the thing, it would die, and I’d be off the hook!
Unfortunately, that plan didn’t work out too well. It was an adorable and beautiful baby (It is my daughter). It would look so peaceful when I would feed It and I couldn’t resist cuddling with it at night when it would actually sleep. I loved smelling It’s baby powder and shampoo and staring at how tiny It was. It’s giggles when taking a bath were especially irresistible.
Two years later. . .
My planned had failed. I couldn’t resist It’s cuteness and had cuddle and contacted it anyway. Now I was sitting here, on a Saturday night, watching SpongeBob with It (who I’d finally named Amber. Couldn’t put It on her birth certificate, could I?), on a scratchy blue couch blanket, on prom night, might I add.
I glared at It angrily. This was all It’s fault! Had she not been born, Aaron would still be here, I wouldn’t have turned into a double-B (bitter bitch) , would’ve been able to go to prom, and my friends would still want to hang out with me. It’s kind of my own fault they’ve become so distant, though. When I got pregnant, I could hear people talking about me, and was so afraid that my friends actually believed these rumors that I shut them out. I never returned their calls; I ate in the bathroom, and didn’t answer the door when they came to visit. My closest friends, Angel, left a message for me own on my phone once and it sounded like she was crying. “Arianna, please, just talk to us. We’re really worried about you. I can’t say I know what it’s like, but maybe having a friend would help you cope since Aaron left. If not, can please just call me back? You don’t have to say anything, just let me know that you called. Bye.” I actually did end calling her, but she did most of the talking. Angel was though. The phone call did help.
My anger turned into fury and everything became a red haze. If I was go have the life I wanted, It could never be part of it.
My gaze shifted to the window where I saw the dark pool. Suddenly, I knew what I had to do.
“Amber, sweetie, you wanna go play in the pool?” I asked, my voice dripping with fake sweetness.
“Yay! Me and Mommy go play!” It exclaimed. It hopped off the couch and ran into my room for her bathing suit. Meanwhile, I found my two ten -pound dumb bells and tied each end with a piece of yarn from Mom sewing kit.
“Let’s go Mommy!” It shouted as it raced to the door that led to the pool.
“Don’t you wanna put on your foot floaters first so you don’t drown, sweetheart?” I said.
“Of course, Mommy!” It rushed over and let me tie the dumb bells to it’s ankles.
Once I was done tying them on, I picked it, opened the door and threw It in to the pool.
It let out a shriek of laughter, figuring that I was playing with It.
It was dead wrong.
It’s shrieks of laughter became shrieks of terror when it realized that the dumb bells where dragging her down, not floating up.
“Mommy! Mommy, help me! I’m drowning! Mommy!” It screamed over and over again. Thank god Mom was at work and wasn’t able to hear It.
Soon, It stopped fighting and sunk to the bottom of the pool. I waited a good ten minutes before fishing it out.
It’s body was limp and cold, It’s lips a pale blue. I shuddered once I realized that I was holding a dead body and quickly wrapped her up in the scratchy blue couch blanket that smelled like pee and had juice stains and crumbs all over it. Next, I stuffed it in a black garbage bag, grabbed the shovel, and headed towards the woods in the back of my house.
I dragged It to the deepest parts of the woods, where I knew nobody would ever go, not even for camping. I stuck the shovel into the soft, wet earth and dug until it was a good five feet deep.
Suddenly, a piercing scream came from the bag and scared me half to death. Realizing where the noise was coming from, I lifted the shovel high over my head and brought it down full-force onto where I thought It’s head was.
The screaming didn’t stop. I looked around wildly, searching for the source of the sound.
I saw a quick movement in the corner of my eye and sun around quickly. Behind a tree stood a little girl, about eight-years-old, her tiny body quaking with fear, screaming and crying her eyes out.
“Shut up!” I screamed.
The girl quickly shut her mouth, but kept on sobbing.
“Th-there’s a body in that bag i-isn’t there?”she said, hiccupping.
I looked at her incredulously. How did this girl know that? Had she seen me kill It and followed me here? What if she called the cops and had me locked up for getting rid of It?
I narrowed my eyes at her and gripped the shovel more tightly. Nobody was going to stop me from getting the life I deserved.
Bring the shovel high above my head again, I prepared myself for the face I knew she was going to make, the scream, and then the sickening crack of her skull.
I hit her over and over again, until I saw parts of her brain sticking out. I had to make sure that she wouldn’t be able to wake up and ruin me.
Finally, positive that they were both dead, I dumped them both into the hole.
All my troubles were finally taken care of.




© Copyright 2011 Arsaydia Rouge (kikisurgrl at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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