Misa always loved to keep her clothes. Whether it fit her or not, she refused to give it away. I guess it was just part of her selfish charisma. So, in a dresser at the bottom of her bed, she kept all her little clothes from years ago. She had pulled out some of her frilly church dresses that she had when she was around, four, and had put them on her bed.

The cloth doll was also on her bed, button eyes and all.

She was ripping them into pieces, shredding them. I could see how much work it was taking her but she was doing it. After tearing a small dress to shreds, she picked up her cloth doll. She tied a strip tightly around the dolls mouth. Then she picked up another strip and tied it around so it covered the dolls ears. Another for the mouth – then she put a strip tightly around the neck.

I can't watch Misa slowly lose her sanity and humanity. My feet wouldn't let me move.

"No evil can you hear, speak, or see. Be a perfect little doll – just for me." She whispered it so soft I almost couldn't catch it. She lifted the doll by the strip hanging from the neck – it turned slowly.

She sighed and dropped it. She put the strips back into the dresser and the doll under her bed, moving over to her mirror. She looked in it and smiled, big and bright. I realized now all her smiles were fake – just like that one. She was just hiding; and all this time I thought she was stupid. Maybe she is still.

Or maybe she's just innocent in her malevolence. My brain threw an idea randomly into itself – it knocked my breathless with just how true it could be. Suddenly my stomach was heavy with guilt and indecision.

Should I go in there? Then she'll know I was watching her… was that right for me to do? Should I talk to her about it? How will she respond…how will I even start the conversation?

While I worry myself into an immovable lump of uncertainty outside of Misa's door, Mom and Dad's voices got louder. As they shout more and more, I hear "case", "Mr. Kimura", and "hit man" thrown around a lot. I know they're fighting about "it" and I wished with a burning passion that it would have never happened so they wouldn't have to fight. Not about this. Not like this.

I notice her hand is on her brush, twisting it around and around again by her other hand. She can hear them scream at each other as well. Her smile is still glued on her face – still scarily sweet and looking real. The brush seems to have a time turning – almost like she's holding it too tight.

Suddenly, she snaps the head off and has one part in one hand; the other part in the other hand. Her smile remains as she breathes out a soft sigh. I can hear her say it then, the words I knew she must be saying in her head, but I never wanted it to be true.

"I never want Mom and Dad to fight. They're all I have – I wish I could be the one to kill that man and make them stop fighting. I just want them to be happy – I'd kill him for it." Her smile is still plastered on her face, but to me it took on a slightly neurotic edge.

I'm not going in there. Now that my fear was realized, I wasn't going to take the chance of going in there with Misa. She's selfish and has no aversion to evil. I tell myself as I walk back to my room. Even if it was more like running.

I wake up a little bit after falling asleep – since I had finally gotten to sleep with their yelling still going on – when someone slipped in bed with me. It was silent outside and I heard Misa whisper, "Emiko…?"

I didn't want to reply. She was my sister and a person who scared the living mess out of me. But she was still my sister. "Yeah?"

I feel her head press into my back and she whispers, "I just wanted to know if you were awake. I'm glad Mom and Dad stopped fighting – I wish the case was over and the man was dead so that they wouldn't fight anymore."

She said to me herself – so it wasn't like it was some secret she was dying to keep. Maybe she just wasn't smart enough to think to keep it a secret. "You shouldn't wish someone dead." I say, letting my tone fill with my horror.

"I wouldn't wish most people dead – just those that deserve to die. I wouldn't wish my teacher dead, or our neighbor, or you. You know that right?"

I don't respond.

Her arms encircle me and she mumbles, almost asleep, "I wouldn't wish you dead, Emiko. You would never do something so wrong that I would need to."

It's a need to wish someone dead to you, Misa?