Chapter Five

Getting Away With Murder

HDM: song chapter based off of Papa Roach's Song, Getting Away With Murder. You really must hear this song and read this at the same time because you'll get all of the emotions flowing better.

My mind has snapped. I do not think I can take this anymore. His deeds have been trecherous and dasterdly. What is one to do in a crisis of this caliber? The quintessence of these acts is more or less rebellion. I might have taken it a bit too far.

Somewhere beyond happiness and sadness
I need to calculate
What creates my own madness

I hear her in my head again. I usually choose to ignore her. I cannot block her out any more. 'Kill him...' is ringing through my head. 'It won't be a trouble; neither one will ever know about a drunk man nor be at his funeral.'

And I'm addicted to your punishment

And you're the master
And I am waiting for disaster

I can hear him storming up the stairs, the fragence of liquior is in the air. Breaking down the door, he walks toward me. "Your face is hideous to look at bitch..." he mumbles before striking me down. "WHO TOLD YOU TO EAT MY FOOD?! IT'S MINE GOD DAMNIT!! WHY THE FUCKIN' HELL MUST YOU DO THIS!??!?"

I hear my brain snap....

I feel irrational
So confrontational
To tell the truth I am
Getting away with murder

I can hear the thing laughing in my head. "Yes, kill the fuck..." I repeated aloud. "What the fuck are you saying bitch?" he mumbled. Somehow, there's a knife at my window sill. 'Come, take the blade. Pour his blood back toward this filthy earth. Make him suffer ten fold. Make him scream. do it, do it, Do it, Do It, DO It, DO IT, DO IT!, DO IT!!!'

(slash!)

It isn't possible
To ever tell the truth
But the reality is I'm getting away with murder
(Getting away, Getting away, Getting away)

He buckled down to the hard linoleum floor like a heavy sack of potatoes. A strange taste of lust invades my veins. I want him to spill more blood. "...biitch" is all he could sproat out of his mouth. "Aww, potty mouth. That isn't the last words you want to say to your Reaper."

I drink my drink and I don't even want to
I think my thoughts when I don't even need to
I never look back cause I don't even want to

I kicked him down the stairs to the basements infested with vermon. "Well now let's go over the basics, shall we?" I lung a knife through his wrist; he wailed in agonizing torment. "You're not father of the year; you should know that much. I mean fuck I know teenage dads who are better than you!!" I found a rusty knife and a hammer on the floor. "You couldn't have given me a nice childhood!! No toys, no dolls, nothing!"

And I don't need to
Because I'm getting away with murder

I would find more and more weapons at my disposal as I went on with this torment. "NO BOYS TO GIVE ME VALENTINES, NO FRIENDS TO SHARE POPCORN AT SLEEPOVERS, NO REGULAR FEARS LIKE CLOWNS, NO PLAYING SOCCER, NO FINGER PAINTING, NO STEREO-TYPICAL DOLLS, NO HORROR MOVIES TO SCREAM ABOUT, NO CHILDHOLD"

I feel irrational
So confrontational
To tell the truth I am
Getting away with murder

"KNOWING THAT YOUR FATHER HATES YOU, KNOWING THAT YOUR MOTHER WAS DEAD BECAUSE OF BOOKIES, KNOWING THAT YOU'RE NEVER SAFE, KNOWING YOU NEVER CAN HAVE FRIENDS, KNOWING THAT YOU THINK IT'S GOING TO GET BETTER, KNOWING THAT YOU HAVE TO GO WHEN SOMETHING COMES ALONG THAT'S GOOD FOR ME, KNOWING THAT I AM NOT SANE, KNOWING THAT I AM INSANE, KNOWING THAT I WILL NEVER BE THE SAME!!!!!!"

It isn't possible
To ever tell the truth
But the reality is I'm getting away with murder
(Getting away, Getting away, Getting away)

I could hear him coughing still. I dragged his body to the basement bathroom. I put his body in the old bath tub. "Yet I feel you're not getting my point..." I stroked my fingernails around the rim of his eyes; he followed my movements like a scared cat. (whoosh!) I flung my fingers into his eyes; I feel the blood squirting and hear his wailing. I take a rusty pair or scissors and snip the chord. "I see clearly now; you're a deterent in my path to hell. Now you won't hurt me or even see me any more." I ripped out his other eye.

I feel irrational
So confrontational
To tell the truth I am
Getting away with murder

'Do you feel relieved of all of your anger? Do you hear the man who tortured you so? Can you ever be the same again? What will it be, my Kly? What will it be?'

HDM: Well we see lots of built up anger! Yeah but she doesn't get depressed; she gets like myself when I'm built up emotions, unleash it in anger. She's NOT a GOTHIC STEREOTYPICAL MARY SUE!! She's original and everyone wants to kill their parental unit so she's like us!! um...maybe a little more like me...uh yeah