When you were a child, we would sit on the porch to talk about your day. And sometimes, we would find a dead bird, or a frog on there. And you would ask me about death and why it happens, looking at the poor creature in my hands, its life cut short and touch it tenderly. I would always say the same thing.
Nothing is meant to live forever, my dear.
The school called me in on your twelfth birthday and asked if I had known how clever you were, that your test scores were the best in the state. They asked me if I knew I had a genius child on my hands who grew bored easily in class and tended to distract others in his classroom, sometimes causing arguments, fistfights and could manipulate his classmates into doing anything.
We don't think this is the school for him. He needs to be challenged appropriately.
You fell in love at seventeen and she was lovely. Kind, caring and beautiful, I couldn't ask for a better girl for you. She was our neighbour's daughter and I had seen her grow up. I knew her good nature well. When you brought her home, I saw the look in your eyes and had hesitated for a few minutes before picking up the phone and getting in touch with her mother.
Keep her away from him, do you understand? I won't say this again.
The neighbour's dog swallowed a razor blade and died. And we were all grateful. The beastly thing would keep us all up with its howling through the night.
You would sit for hours in the shed, doing things I didn't interfere with because I believed that you needed your privacy. And since I couldn't afford to send you to the college you wanted, the guilt kept me away from you, giving you all the space you needed. You, in turn, kept away from me and barely spoke to me anymore. One day you said you were leaving. You told me the same things your father had said when he left.
I can't be around you anymore. I need to be my own person. I promise I will come back.
The police knocked on my door at five A.M. That morning. They said they had found something they needed me to see. I stood numbly as they uncovered the back garden and found the remains of twelve young women, who had gone missing from all over the state. They used words like slaughtered, serial killer and consecutive life sentences. They asked me where you were and I told them you didn't live with me anymore, that I hadn't seen you in four years.
If you see him, call us immediately.
They're calling you a killer on the seven o clock news. They have a name for you that I don't want to remember. Your face is everywhere and they say its only a matter of time before they catch you. You aren't what they say you are.
I am your mother.
I go to see you often. You look pale. Withdrawn. Broken.
I say sorry often. And remind you things would get better. They would eventually prove that you're innocent, the way you have shouted yourself hoarse saying so.
At least you know how much I love you now.
When you were young you asked me often why things died.
I should have told you the truth.
I should have told you it was because I couldn't stop from killing them.