The bell had rung, finally announcing the end of the school day. Students anxious to flee the school ground fled from their classes, clustering in the halls… scrambling to make their escape. Rachel, however, did not like the end of school—even though she was fatigued.
The girl had a penchant for knowledge. Rachel took pleasure in learning all that she could—having a certain fondness for chemistry. She was also quite adept in English and reading.
But of course, sewing was her favourite. The ability to make things—her own things… and to make things perfectly thrilled her. Rachel wished she had the ability to make her life perfect—to sew a perfect family… like the one in her dreams.
The young blonde took her time walking to her locker, staying a few extra minutes in her chemistry class helping her teacher cleaning up after the lab they had that day to help avoid the large crowd.
As per usual, her redheaded friend was waiting for her at her locker.
"Rachel!" He exclaimed gleefully as he saw her approaching. "How was the rest of your day?"
"It was good." She answered blandly. Rachel opened her locker to retrieve her school bag. It was a simple, locker, that wasn't filled with the excessive things that most girls had filled theirs with. The only contents of Rachel's lockers were her bag, her schoolbooks, and any books she may have been keeping in there that she read for leisure.
"So… are you free today, Rachel?" Edward asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet. The long seven hours of school did not wear down his energy at all. Edward seemed to have an endless reserve of it—perhaps a result of his upbringing as a gravedigger.
The boy would spend long hours exerting himself digging six foot graves, and chipping away at stone to make tombstones. As a result, Edward was unusually muscular for a twelve year old. His strength was perplexing—he rivalled the strength of boys years older than him.
Rachel swung her Back-pack over her shoulder, and gingerly closed her locker. "I don't think I should, I have to study for a test tomorrow and complete my sewing project." She said, grasping the straps of her bag.
A lie… She couldn't help but lie to Edward. She didn't want to hang out with him today, she was just so tired.
Edward's smile suddenly drooped into a disappointed frown. The admiration that gleamed in his eyes was clouded with disappointment.
"I understand…" He murmured dejectedly. "Shall we catch the bus, then?"
Rachel nodded her head, and began to walk alongside her red-headed friend to towards the bus stop. It was a mildly warm day, and for once the skies were clear from April's Showers. The air smelled clean and crisp, and a mild breeze blew Rachel's hair.
"I love the way your hair flies in the wind," Edward remarked, mesmerized by her golden locks. His fingers twitched, and it looked as if he was going to run his fingers through her hair. To Rachel's relief, he abstained from touching it.
They stood at the bus stop in silence, listening to the birds chirp happily. After a while, the bus finally arrived, and the two hopped on.
Rachel's slight form was slumped against the window, appearing enervated. Edward refrained from chattering at her, instead leering at her form.
The blonde was perplexed by her friend's infatuation with her, and it was one of the only things that made her feel uneasy. Regardless, Edward was someone she could feel safe with—the emonly/em one she could feel safe with. His company was valuable.
Finally, her stop came, and she hopped out alone, bidding her friend goodbye.
Now began the walk home. Rachel usually had to head home early after school—lest her parents accuse her of whoring around and committing nefarious deeds, but she could feel the lack of food begin to have an effect on her. Her head was pounding, as if it was a drum, her starved gut the mallets being swung against her skull. The girl was having moments of vertigo, and her vision spinning.
She knew there wasn't food at home, so perhaps she could stop by the grocery store and get one of those cheese sticks for free. It was only half an hour away…
Before Rachel could decide, she was heading to that grocery store. She was grateful that they gave out free bread to children… and that she still looked so young for a thirteen year old.
The walk was long, but Rachel made it—and received her free breadstick. Her hunger beginning to wear her down, she stuffed the breadstick in her mouth right in front of the baker, wolfing it down within thirty seconds.
"Wow, you must be hungry..!" The baker chuckled, "Here, have another." He handed another breadstick to Rachel, who barely hesitated before snatching it out of his hands and stuffing it into her mouth.
"Thank you very much, sir." She garbled, mouth full of food. The baker chuckled, and told her to go find her parents before she got lost.
But her parents were at home.
The walk home was easier than the walk there, and Rachel began to take pleasure in the nice weather. She did want to hurry home, though, as she didn't want her parents to accuse her of being a delinquent and get mad.
So, although it wasn't a good idea, Rachel decided to take some shortcuts in the alley.
I wonder if that serial killer will come and kill me..?
But there was not any serial killer in the alleys. However, she heard something whining to her left—in a dead-end of the alley. It sounded like a puppy. Rachel stepped curiously over to the dead-end, and in a corner sat a puppy.
It was a little brown dog, who looked to be covered with mud. The puppy didn't appear to belong to one specific breed, and Rachel was not an expert on dog breeds.
"Aw, hello little puppy," Rachel cooed, crouching in front of it. "Are you lost? Maybe you don't have an owner?" The puppy began to growl a little, and defensively backed up against the wall. Rachel frowned, then stood up.
The puppy looked so frail… It was practically shaking, and it appeared emaciated—kind of like Rachel.
"I want to bring you home, so you can be my puppy. You're so cute! But I have to ask my parents first," She said, readjusting the strap of her backpack to hold it close. "I hope they'll say 'yes', either way, I'll be back to see you again, puppy."
Rachel hastily walked home, and within five minutes she had reached the familiar group of shoddy townhouses. She leapt up the steps to her townhouse, and hesitated at the door. She could hear her parents fighting.
Nothing new.
Quietly, she opened the door. Their screams were loud, accompanied by the sounds of shattering plates and glass. It seemed to be coming from the kitchen. Rachel casually kicked off her shoes, and mustered up her courage to confront her parents.
"Ah!" Her father howled in frustration. "Why must you always contradict me?"
Rachel stopped short of the kitchen, and listened in.
"Well, who would listen to an alcoholic" Her mother retorted
"I was out working my ass off all day.. only to come back to this fucking pigsty. I emhate/em coming back to this house." Her father grunted.
"That's quite a mouth you've got there," Her mother cried, laughing shrilly. "for some worthless, wino cop like you."
"Oh, tell me what else you think I am, you bitch. Alcohol's less poisonous compared to the shit comin' outta your mouth." Her father spat.
More banging. "Y-you're hurting me..! Stop… Stop it!" Her mother cried.
"I'm bummed out, havin' ended up with a psychotic bitch of a wife like you… you always look so wretched—why are you so fucking unhappy?!"
More banging.
Her mother shrieked in pain once again. "You're the one who made me this way!" She screamed. "It's your fault! It's all your fault!"
Another plate shattered. Rachel stood there, dumbfounded.
"I wonder if they'll even listen to me.." Rachel said, walking to the kitchen. She kicked a beer bottle with her feet, sending it crashing to the ground.
Rachel reached for the handle of the door that lead to the kitchen, but it abruptly swung open, nearly hitting her.
Her father stepped out, his face twisted with rage.
"Where were you out so late?" He asked, balling up his fists. Rachel didn't answer. He stepped closer. "No answer—as usual… no brain in that head of yours?"
"Um," Rachel moaned, beginning to feel scared.
"Oh, so you've got something to say to me for once?" Her father exclaimed, stepping towards her. There was a malicious gleam in his eye, and Rachel braced herself for the worst.
But before anything could happen, the door swiftly opened, and her mother stomped up to her father accusingly.
"Where do you think you're going with that money?" She barked. "Booze? Some Whores? Planning on making me miserable again?" Her mother began to laugh hysterically, and her face contorted with some emotion Rachel did not recognize.
"Stop laughin'… Get's on my nerves." Her father commanded. "I'm off to buy my own happiness."
"Oh! Is that so? Then while you're out—buy me some happiness too!" Her mother shrieked. "Buy an unhappy wrench like me some happiness!"
Her father swore under his breath. "Not only are you depressed, but you burn through all of the money! And you don't even have a job, you mental case!"
"Oh…" Her mother groaned. "It's always fault, huh?" She began to scream, the shrill sound of her voice hurting Rachel's ears. "You bastard! You've ruined my life! Your brain, body and attitude are completely soaked with booze—"
Her father raised his fist and walloped his lamenting wife, sending her body backwards, hitting the kitchen door. She lowered herself to the floor with a groan, and shakily cradled her head in her hands.
"H-hey, Dad..?" Rachel croaked awkwardly. He didn't answer, he only looked down disapprovingly at his wife.
"Ahhh… Everything about this family is miserable…" he muttered. "Gotta have booze to cope…" He began to walk towards the front door.
Rachel's mother began to stand up. "Don't you walk away from the emhell/em you created!" She cried, stumbling over towards him. "It's you! You're the one who's screwed me up—screwing this emfamily/em up! It's not my fault… It's all emyours!"
Rachel's father spun around, grabbing his wife tightly by her collar.
"Y-you're hurting me—" she cried, before he punched her in the cheek.
"Shut the emfuck/em up, you crazy bitch!" He howled, striking her again.
"Marrying you was the worst thing that's ever happened to me!" Her mother cried, weakly hitting him back, before receiving another blow. She fell backwards onto the floor in front of the couch, before weakly pulling herself up onto it.
Her husband stood in front of her, shoulders rising shakily with every breath. "I don't wanna hit anyone… but yer askin' for it."
He stomped over towards the door, and yanked it open. "Both of you have ruined my life!" He screamed, slamming the door behind him so hard that the walls shook.
Dumbfounded, Rachel stood there a moment, mouth agape. Then she realized why she had confronted her parents in the first place—the puppy.
"M-mom," Rachel began, slowly walking towards her. She was slumped over on the couch, balling her fists in rage. Her face was beginning to swell already, and her nose was bloodied.
"One day… Oh, one day… I… will… kill… him…" She then pulled herself off of the couch and stumbled towards their staircase.
Rachel scrambled over to her. I've got to make her listen to me..!
Her mother was inspecting something over by the end table before the staircase, and Rachel peered curiously to see what it was.
"If he lays one more hand on me, I'll use this… and I'll kill him." She muttered to herself, sounding pleased. "When the time comes, he'll be blubbering like a baby… He'll finally bow down to me—and realize I was right all along…"
Rachel slowly stepped towards her mother. "…mom..?" She began.
Her mother spun towards Rachel, beads of sweat lining her forehead, accompanied by an odd-looking smile. "Ray, what is it..?" She asked innocently.
"I've got to talk to you about something, mom…"
"Oh, I can't deal with you right now, dear, the kitchen is a mess, and I've got to clean it up.. I'm not in the mood to listen right now." Her mother said.
"No, please, listen…" Rachel cried. "If I don't ask for your permission first you'll get angry, right?"
Her mother's smile twitched, and she quickly brought her arm to Rachel's face, slapping her so hard that she was sent backwards.
Her mother began to laugh—a shrill, strange laugh that belonged to a madwoman. "Amazing! Even my own daughter won't even listen to me…" Rachel's eyes widened with shock. Her mother usually wasn't the one to hit her.
"Don't you know that your being here has gotten me stuck in this living hell..? I detest your very existence… Dealing with you is like dealing with your worthless father—I'm getting sick to my stomach.
—Now go to your room."
Rachel simply stood there, before a new hope appeared in her mind. "Mom, if I listen to you, will you listen to me..?"
"GO!" Her mother shrieked at her, "Don't make me any more of a cruel and miserable mother than I already am!"
Rachel's brows furrowed in confusion and hurt. "Why won't anyone listen to what I have to say..?" She asked herself. Wait, what was it that mom had over there in that drawer..? Her secret weapon to make herself… heard? I wonder if it could help me…
Curiosity pulled Rachel over to the end table, and gingerly, she pulled open the drawer. Her eyes widened in shock as she saw a hand gun slide towards her.
"A-a gun..?" She mused aloud. "What is she… going to do… with that?" Make herself… heard.
Rachel stood there awhile, before deciding to leave her house to visit that puppy. But before she did, she went to her room to drop off her back. What am I going to put the puppy in..? She scanned her room, before grabbing a box off of her shelf that held numerous books in it that she no longer wanted. She emptied the books onto the floor, and held the box in her hands.
She grabbed her purse and swung it over her shoulder, and snuck quietly out the front door.
It was late now, around eight at night, and it had already become dark outside—and chilly, too. Rachel clenched her cardigan with her free hand and pulled it tight around her for warmth. Her bare legs began to tingle from the cold.
She walked briskly to the alley that the puppy was in, and she just prayed that it was still there.
Luckily, it was… however, it looked to be even more weak. The puppy was lying on it's side, whimpering.
"Oh, poor puppy…" she cooed sympathetically, crouching in front of it and setting the box down. "Would you like to be my puppy..? You're so cute! I promise, I'd take good care of you."
The puppy looked at Rachel, and defensively began to growl, struggling to stand on it's feet. The poor thing had probably been abused…
Just like Rachel.
Tentatively, Rachel put her hand out to pet the puppy, and with surprising strength—due to it's weak state—it clamped it's sharp teeth down on her hand.
She yelped out in pain, and the puppy kept biting down on her hand.
"S-stop! That hurts!" Rachel cried, trying to push the puppy off. It clamped harder on her hand.
Rachel felt a veil of red mask her eyes.
Like her mother and father, the girl raised her hand in the air and brought it down on the pup hard, causing it to yelp in pain and release her hand. It fell over, and frantically began to kick it's legs, looking as if it was going to run away while it was still on it's second wind.
Rachel grabbed the dog by it's abdomen, avoiding it's bites. She slowly stood up, glaring at the struggling puppy she held in her hands.
"Why would you bite me?" She asked, hurt. "I just want to take care of you… let me take care of you..!" Rachel raised the puppy above her head, then hurled it onto the ground. The pup let out a loud yelp, and struggled to get back on it's feet. It began to bark profusely at the girl.
"No good… Why are you barking?" The blonde began to dig in her black purse, eagerly searching for a tool.
"Ah, here we go." She muttered aloud. "This should fix you for now," Grasping a pair of sharp scissors in her hand, she knelt before the puppy once again, who looked at her with it's big, glassy eyes.
"Don't be scared, I'm going to help you… I'm going to fix you, and you'll be the perfect puppy..!" Rachel promised, position her scissors above the dog. "My perfect puppy."
She brought her scissors down into the dog, causing it to shriek loudly. It's blood began to pool over Rachel's hands. Warm. She yanked the scissors out, and even more blood spurted out of it. Rachel thrust the scissors into the puppy a few more times, hoping to take the look of fear out of it's eyes.
Gingerly, she picked up the dying puppy and put it in the box, along with her soiled scissors.
"There, now you're quiet. Mom and Dad wouldn't love you if you were so loud…" She whispered to the box.
Rachel stood up and started to walk home. She walked in haste through the alleys and streets, eager to get home and play with her puppy. Adrenaline was still flowing through her veins, and her breathing was shallow.
As she turned one corner, she bumped into an old man. Wrinkles were etched deeply in his face, but he looked very cheerful.
"Ah! Sorry missy," The old man exclaimed with a wide grin.
"Don't worry, it's fine." Rachel curtly replied. The man surveyed her body, and his grin slowly faded into a confused smile.
"What's in the box?" He asked innocently.
Rachel glanced at the box she held in her arms. She could feel the wetness of the puppies blood on her hands, and she noticed that there were a few splotches of vermillion stain on her sleeves.
"It's my puppy…" She murmured, tightening her grip on the box. "I'm taking him home."
"Oh, a puppy..? How cute!" The old man exclaimed. "May I see it? I do hope it's not suffocating in there!"
"N-no, I'm sorry. I really must take him home," Rachel cried. "I haven't fixed him yet."
The old man gave her a confused look, but before he could question her, Rachel bolted off towards her home. It took only a couple minutes to make it, and she sighed in relief as she entered the front door.
"This is your new home," She whispered to the box. Hoping to avoid her mother for now, she crept up the stairs quietly, holding her breath. She pushed open her slightly opened door and kicked it shut with her foot, sighing in relief.
She set the box down on her floor, sitting down behind it.
"Now I can fix you," She said with a small smile. Rachel pulled out her sewing kit from her purse, and readied her thread and needle. Opening the box, she peered at the puppy.
"Oh, you don't look so good, puppy… But don't worry—I'm going to fix you up! You'll be the cutest puppy in the world…" She said, gazing into it's glazed eyes. Rachel frowned. "Oh, but your eyes… They're a really gross colour…"
The blonde stood up, and walked over towards her toy chest. She dug through it, until she paused a moment, making a pleased sound. What she held in her hands was a stuffed Rabbit, with beautiful, green eyes.
"Wow, you'd look so cute with these eyes! Much better than those murky ones." She mused, sitting back down behind the box containing the puppy.
Rachel grabbed the scissors back out from the box, and used them to dig out the puppies cloudy eyes. They felt squishy in her hands. She then cut out the eyes from her stuffed rabbit, and sewed them onto the puppy.
"Wow, they look so good!" She exclaimed. "Perfect… Now I just need to fix the rest of you…"
The young girl began to sew up the gashes she inflicted on the puppy, taking pleasure in closing each wound. Rachel became so absorbed in her work, she didn't hear her door slam open, or her father scream in disgust.
Rachel only came to after she had fixed her puppy.
"Ah, good boy… you're such a good boy…" She crooned, petting the dead puppy she cradled on her lap. "I could eat you up—Oh, I want you to stay with me emforever/em!"
She could hear the sound of more dishes being smashed downstairs, and plenty of banging.
Her puppy was probably scared. "Oh no, don't be scared… Everything is okay." She reassured it, stroking it's soft ears.
"It's all your fault! She's all fucked up because you're a crazy fuckin' bitch!" She heard her father scream downstairs, followed by the sound of something else smashing onto the ground.
"No—It's your fault that kid isn't right!" Her mother retorted.
Rachel's heart skipped a beat, and she felt her body become cold.
Her father howled. "I can't fucking take this anymore!"
"H-hey, what the hell are you doing..!" Her mother cried, fear in her voice. Something else smashed onto the ground, and then Rachel's mother screamed. It was a shrill shriek that pierced Rachel's ears, and put fear in her heart. She had never heard her scream like that before.
Shakily, Rachel stood up after gingerly setting her puppy back into the box and closing the lid. "Gosh, it's really bad today…" She murmured aloud. "I'll take a peek…"
Rachel's legs began to quake as she tentatively made her way to the kitchen—where she was sure they were fighting again. She hesitated before opening the door to the kitchen, but figured there wasn't anything to be afraid of.
She was wrong.
Her father straddled her mother's body, and he held a large kitchen knife in his hands. He thrust the blade into her abdomen, over and over and over again. Each time, the sound of the knife piercing her mother's flesh rung in her ears, causing Rachel to flinch.
Her blood pooled and spilled over the kitchen floor, and the air reeked of it.
Rachel simply stood there, completely dumbfounded. After what had seemed like forever, her father finally stopped stabbing his wife, and sat there, catching his breath. Slowly, he turned his head around to look at Rachel.
"…What are you doing?" He snapped, his face deranged. Rachel couldn't answer. Her father shakily stood up. "So… you saw that, huh? Didn't you?"
"I couldn't stand her anymore…" He muttered, slowly stepping towards Rachel. "She was making me miserable… Everything here makes me miserable…" He inched even closer, gripping onto the bloody knife. "So… now it's your turn to die..!"
Rachel gasped, and scrambled out of the kitchen, slamming the door behind her.
How awful… Sickening… She frowned. Rachel was about to simply run out the front door, but she remembered about her puppy in her room. Oh no, I have to get my puppy..!
Rachel began to run towards the staircase, but stopped in front of the end table before the stairs. Mom was… hiding a gun, just for this moment… I guess.. It would be okay if I toke it, then…
She pulled open the drawer, and reluctantly grabbed the gun, and ran to her room.
Standing before the box that held her puppy, she sighed in relief. "You're okay… don't worry, everything will be fine…" Rachel reassured it. "I… don't really have a choice but to…" She tightened the grip on the gun.
The door jostled open, and her father stumbled in, a deranged, mad look on his face. When he saw Rachel cowering near the box, he began to chuckle.
"Do you think your father is crazy, Ray? But you're just as crazy as me…" He mused. "Runnin' to your room to talk to that—thing, something's not right with you…"
He gestured to the bloody box holding her puppy.
"Hey, open that box." He commanded, Rachel hesitated, but she did it. Her father chuckled again. "Ah, just as I thought—you're insane!" He inspected the puppy a little closer before gagging. "What the fuck did you do too that dog? It's a patchwork corpse! That dog…
—You killed it, didn't you..?"
Rachel stayed quiet, looking down at her puppy in shame. I only wanted to… fix it…
Her father came closer, looking at her accusingly. "Did sticking up it's belly and mouth feel good, you freak?!"
"…No." Rachel answered. "It… just became… 'mine'…" She held the gun even tighter in her hands, fingering the trigger. "It became my perfect puppy."
Her father looked at her hands, and his face whitened when he realized what she was holding.
"Hey, Dad… become my…." Rachel began, pointing the gun towards her father, eyes once again being shielded by the veil of red. "Become my… perfect Daddy..!"
Bang.
Bang.
Bang.
Three shots, and her father was down on the ground, blood spilling out from his body. So much blood…
"It's alright, Daddy…" Rachel smiled.
"I'll fix you."