Karma's Curse

The difference between life and death

I took my first step in learning how to kill when I was six years old.

That step was to understand the difference between life and death. I had to understand that once you take a life, there’s no way to bring it back. So when I make the decision to kill, I was taught, I have to make sure I have a complete reason to do so.

“You must not make any mistakes with killing,” Daddy told me. “In time you will understand my reasons for saying so. The materials I’m going to provide for you from now on are all lethal weapons. For killing purposes only.” He spoke to me like he was making a speech. When he finally finished, it was time to go to the quiet room and start training. ~

My name is Karma and I’m a serial killer. You see, my father trained me to become a professional assassin. I didn’t want this life but I basically was born to kill.

I’m not proud of my murders I committed but I’m not ashamed, either. I don’t even regret what I have done. All I know is that now it’s getting the best of me. The murders are starting to become a necessity and I don’t know how to let go. Through my twenty-five years I’ve already killed over fifty people. After the tenth one, I just stopped counting. During my journey through life I’ve also blackmailed and robbed people to become what I am now. I’ve killed preachers, judges and boyfriends. All of them deserved it, of course. At least I thought they did. I know you’re probably judging me already; but you don’t know my story. The only way you might understand me is if you hear this.

Honestly, I hope you understand. But I know I have a problem. Maybe, hopefully, you can help me solve it. I know you’re saying, “Why would I want to help you after all that has happened?” But you must know that everything is not what it seems. I need you to try to walk a day in my shoes and see where you end up. ~

iv 1

When Daddy started my training, he had me wearing size 12 running shoes. Before long, I was running three miles a day and swimming a mile a day. It was fun to me. I enjoyed training; every minute of it. My father showed me how to take guns apart, handle and shoot them correctly. Other girls my age were playing with their Barbies and Beanie Babies; the toys I loved were my guns. At the age of six, I had four but they were only nine millimeters.

Monday through Friday, from 5:30 in the morning to 1:00, I was running, swimming, boxing, and learning ninja moves. I was also learning the silent ways to kill. From 1:00 to 3:00 I ate lunch and took a nap. From 3:00 to 7:00 my mother tutored me. Then from 7:00 to 8:45 at night I studied the Bible with Christian, the son of Daddy’s best friend Steven. Then it was off to bed to do it all again. I loved it all; not just my teaching and the training, but spending this time with my mother, father, Steven and Christian.

The other best thing about how I grew up was that my weekends were my personal time. Saturdays I could do almost anything I wanted. I was allowed to be a child and have fun like the normal child. The only rule for Saturdays is that I wasn’t allowed to train. But I was too restless not to be doing something physical. So I picked up basketball and began secretly looking for places to shoot hoops and play some one-on-one. All the while, my sisters were playing with their baby dolls and beginning to have little male friends around.

For a while, I was content with my weekly training. But then I started to think I was missing something. I was getting curious about school. Much as I liked my lessons with Mom, I was ready to experience the learning environment I kept hearing my sisters talking about. So I asked my father when I could go to school.

“Well, Karma, I’d planned for your training to be only home school. You have so much lethal training in you that if you were to get into a fight with another child, you could hurt them very badly. Even kill them. We can’t have that, Karma.”

This made me sad. “Daddy,” I said, looking up at him, “I wouldn’t do anything to hurt anybody, I promise. Unless my life is in danger, I won’t fight anybody at my school. I promise.”

He thought about this for a minute. I was afraid I might have made him mad. “OK, Karma,” he said at last. “You can go to school. But if any kid gets hurt by you, in any way, then you will be back to home school. Understand?”

I wanted to smile, but something told me I should look just as serious as he did. “Yes, Father.”

“Now go play!”

I was so excited about school I rushed to find my sisters. I wanted to ask them about everything I needed to know about school. I wanted to understand all the excitement that comes with going to school. Kayren told me the girly things; Sariah and Kariah told me the ways you can get in trouble at school. Tennessee just said I would be fine, because I’d have my sisters to protect me. Then, of course, Santana had something smart to say. “Karma, your little ass isn’t going to last a week in school! With your bad attitude and sneaky ways, Father is going to put you back in home school forever.”

That made me so mad I forgot the rules about how to talk. “Fuck you, Santana.” I stomped off to my room.

Kayren rushed after me and tried to offer some comfort. “Karma, we all are different in some ways. But we’ve got to accept ourselves for who we are, because only you can live and die with yourself. Understand me, little sister?”

“Yes, I do!” Kayren was so mature and humble; she reminded me of my father. She was only sixteen but gave the advice of a forty-year-old woman. I always connected with Kayren, and that day I decided that I would always be there for her, just as she was for me. “If anybody ever hurts you,” I told her, “I will hurt them just as much! As for Santana, I’m thinking about paying someone to slap the shit out of her ass if she keeps messing with me.”

Kayren brushed off my words. “Such harsh talk for a six-year-old. You have so much love and hate for Santana.”

She had one thing right: I did both love and hate Santana. But when she ignored what I said about protecting her, I knew then she was completely clueless. Little did she know that her little sister was being trained to kill. None of my sisters knew the truth about me or about our father, that he was one of the top killers in the world.

2 3

We kept our identity discreet enough to fool even our own family. We lived everyday life just like the average person would. Just with lots of cash. Life was great for my father. He was always ready to brag to Steven about me and how fast I learned. Just a week away from his confession time, he was already writing a list of accomplishments and questions for Steven. Even though Christian and I met five days a week, my father and Steven met on business only once a month. Of course, they did hang out some, and were always attending each other’s family functions. But unless it was an extreme emergency, they would never talk about business at those times. So even if my father was anxious to confess his sins and to confirm my strengths and weaknesses, he had to wait.

So in the meanwhile, he signed me up for school, a week ahead of the first day of class. I was so excited and grateful for my father’s decision that I trained extra hard. studied more and slept less. I wanted to be smart as the other kids my age. I worried that they would be ahead of me. I’d never been to preschool; and my teacher was just my mom. Yeah, she was a college professor, but what did I know? I was six. What’s college to a six-year-old?