I've never been a believer of punishing a cat when it's been misbehaving. They're always urinating on the freshly cleaned carpet and knocking things over, "it'll never learn" I'd think to myself "what's the point in punishing a cat?" It was when I accidentally stepped in one of its vile puddles of piss and Micky,my step-father, laughed at me that I'd decided I needed to kill him. I'd ponder how I'd go about it for hours, every method of taking his stinking life from him ended in either me getting caught or him taking the knife from me before I could stab it in his gut. I was simply too small. Acquiring help from my elder brother was out of the question: Micky had him falling on love with him after all of the false affection he'd show him under the moonlit willow tree.
School knew of what we were going through. But everyone loved Micky. The corridors echoed slurs about that kid whos' mother is bedridden. The next female to even breathe my way was to be butchered and drained of her blood. I had my target and followed on her commute home. I started with the clitoris and slowly made my way to the eyes all while taunting her about her mother that lays dead in bed and her step father called Micky. I left her in the dark and returned with a suitcase in which I made her fit. I wheeled her into my abode: past Micky as he lay passed out with my brother and into my mother's room, the stench of cat piss and masked the smell if the maggots on my beautiful mother. Better you two than Micky.