This is about a young girl who is being interigated about an assisted suicide in the insane asylem she lives in. Which in the interview to prove her innosence tells of the murder she got away with.
My confession, you see not past my childish face to the true demon I am. I was sent to this place of healing to help my poor suicidal soul, but what you know not is that I a child of 14 could kill. No less a girl not with this smile and the life those around think so highly of, ha-ha you could never think it of me but let me tell you of this sin I have committed the seat in hell I have reserved, his death, the one you put past me. Just for your records I’m 16 my name is Michele Diggens call me Micky, alright I guess I’m gonna have to take you back far before I killed him actually before that even.
Lets go back too when I met Nate, I needed to save him he was dead on the inside and his eyes were as black as my soul, he hated me but I couldn’t help but be fascinated with him. He was mean and vicious he was me but he being a boy was never capable of what I put him through, or myself. He said he enjoyed pain and didn’t mind the kind I inflicted on him, I wondered how much he could truly handle, my family had left me again to go off with my siblings on vacation I guess, but the house was mine for 2months.
My first month alone was purely preparation painting my garage as I was told; black just the inside, finding rope, and the most wonderful superstition of all a mirror lined bag. Yes I know not in this Nate wasn’t a witch nor was he snakes when you didn’t find him, the next thing was to keep the plan and make sure nothing could go wrong. Summer had come and it was time, I found him and knocked him over the head, the rush in itself made me want more, he never saw my face though; I tied him to my bed with thin rope it made marks in his wrists. Kinda like mine, he screamed and shouted to be let loose his endurance surprised me and excited me I couldn’t help but want more, his pain made me smile.
He soon fell asleep in his bravery so I hit him again, that was the one thing I was worried about I didn’t want to give him a concussion. I tied him to himself and placed him in my bath tub with a little bit of water in the bottom, he needed to wake up. After he screamed and cried for the 1st time I’d ever known him to be alive, he wanted so much to leave but what did he have to live for he loved nothing and in his eyes nothing loved him. That’s the thing that got to me he never pleaded as though he had something to live for he pleaded as though he could have killed me if he ever let himself out, he got his hand loose and fell so his face hit the water. The stupid boy went to dry his face before untying himself, I knew he’d do it too; I doused the towel in chloroform he was out like a light. I put him in the garage and placed a bucket of white and red paint in with him, he was untied as I watched him through the two way mirror.
My ever so distant “father” figure had it installed so he could be a part of the family’s out side events but still be on his own, he screamed and yelled shouting at me again and again trying to convince himself he wasn’t scared of me I saw no fear in him when death came to his thoughts it was the fact that he didn’t know who I was. Who was this person who out witted him who made this misery so perfect and left nothing but pending fear in him, I still to this day can remember the look in his eyes when he found out it was me. But back to what I did next, I fed him well greatly cooked meals with no bones or anything he could use to kill himself before I had the satisfaction.
Every day he cried I put another cut on my arms and he cried every second, I slipped him some sleeping pills and walked into the black room and painted words and questions on the walls for him to awake too, in red. I took the red paint out of the room and left but one light for him too see with and the white paint for him to write back in, he awoke shortly after and screamed in realization of his fear of me.
He smacked his head against the wall until he passed out, I took advantage of the pain he wished on himself and I took a knife and slit a small gash in his side not enough to kill him but I left wire thread and a needle, let him inflict his own pain. He woke up head throbbing and I watched him, I watched him attempt to run the wire through his flesh stinging the whole way through and failing. His skin dangled off his body mangled and in pieces, he wrote back to me shoving his hands in the paint smearing it on the wall “are you scared of me” it’s the only thing he said that burned a whole in my memory. He laid down and began to cry I knew it would be the last time I’d see him cry that last cut was the deepest I’d never kill myself I can’t do it to me.
I walked into the room with bleach in my hand I stood over him and ripped open what poor stitching he got done and cut his stomach open all the way across. He gasped and looked into my eyes and whispered my name in his eyes I could see that he had accepted it all and was waiting, he was scared more scared then anyone I had ever seen in my life but his eyes went soft and caring and gentle and accepting. I couldn’t bear to see them any other way, I pored the bleach into his eyes, his last words and sight was to be the one who killed him, the one he would have never expected.
I will not be underestimated I will not be taken for the innocence I am denied but expected to have! I carried his dieing body and placed him in the washing machine stripped him down and myself and ran our clothing through the wash with his body. After draining the blood from his flesh and washing our cloths in bleach and blood I tapped out his teeth and placed them in a mirror lined box. I set to work on our cloths I burned them along with his body; I took the coal and ashes and ground it into dust. I took it all and put it into the creek behind my house, I took the bag of his teeth smashed till his teeth were in small pieces and buried it 16feet under the ground.
I ran to the inside and scrubbed the floors clean and re-painted the walls and myself, I took a shower and rubbed off all the paint I had on me and all the paint in the house. I took the water from the machine and through it into the creek with him; I picked 2 nice movies to see the hour before I killed him and got both tickets. I caught the middle of the second and slept not at all that night.
It was about a week before the cops came to my house I was the last on your list I suppose and in meeting me you looked at my neat home and beautiful smile and couldn’t believe it was me. Though his family thought that they should put me on a small trial to “clear my name” all while my good for nothing parents were god knows where. My name was cleared on the murder of Nathan for my sweet personality and darling smile fooled all of you, a nice girl couldn’t have committed anything such as murder one or two.
I am innocent to your men and to a jury of those you call peers. Perhaps a week later my mother came back and found me scared and cut she became sweeter and loving “oh my Micky mouse we need to get you help”, I couldn’t help but laugh. She admitted me here to save my soul to clean me, to FIX me, how can someone fix something that you have done she saw not that I wasn’t going to kill myself just bleed my pain away. When I came here I couldn’t help but play with these people I had to put on the crazy act, they all knew what I was doing and what I wanted to do. I fooled no one but I fooled everyone I decided to be the me I had hid the suicidal me the me they wanted to cure, what was the sense in hiding who I was and why I was here.
They saw no cause for my pain and suffering my family background was flawless and no one understands to this day, the funny thing is Nate’s death hasn’t left a scar on my memory but a smile on my twisted face I will not kill another man nor woman, but a person who’s life isn’t worth living I am but providing a favor. This is why I’m here today and I know these things, I’m crazy not stupid you think I had something to do with the girls death that she killed herself with the string of my robe.
Now you know that I am capable and why I wouldn’t have done so the deaths I plan are memorable not fast or quick. I can see into your soul officer I know you wish you could convict me for a crime I did commit and a one that I got away with. You will no longer underestimate a child again, I am 16 I am Micky Mouse and I am Homicidal.
I am trapped in a world where those around me underestimate me those who take care of me think I’m fine and those who have called me innocent wish it take it back. I’m stuck here with the incompetence of adults and the misery of children I am smart but I am crazy and I will never let you forget me. Call me crazy, you’re the hypocrite.
Amateur sleuth and cobbler Fulton Moon (yes, his nickname is Full Moon) encounters beautiful and sinister Lucinda Mathews. Lucy, wife of prominent florist Arthur Mathews, wants to escape an abusive husband and Moon only wants to help. It isn’t that
