Who Murdered her Husband?

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Chapter 13

Look we all know that murderers and all that when they take lives do so again. Its not use saying that killers are nice people when they are the bastards of nature. when their natural bent is to subdue and have more of the same. People think they are misunderstood and do no real harm? Well they take lives they take people and all the suffering in this world is that they do not like to work for a living but must do live generously.

When a five year old had a breakdown because of that scene and episodic breakdowns after. It is no use saying that those hoodlums had a good enough reason.

"Where in the world did the kid come in and step on the skull we were cleaning up for?" Who said that who said it why did they say it what is wrong with the speech? I could not now cope with it I had no strength in my insides. I had become a creep I was now not strong.

"Where in the world should she come in the curious little cat?"

I stayed in my room in my bed harming nobody at all. What an idea that I was a cat on the prowl? I did nothing wrong I never will interfere again in a murder ever ever again.

The mother the murderess was a once upon a time. I must not think about her ever again. I am not a detective I am a mere animal inside my room hiding and being ashamed.

She was a young woman than back than she had the world to look forward to. What she then got was the thoughtless man whom she had given her heart to who rejected her said she had made a mistake. That it was a misunderstanding that he not there when she had her virtue lost.

You see murderers are alike they think alike they even have the same motto we do kill but we will not be caught and when they are caught they feel the unjustness of their superior intellect not being able to withstand the test of time. That is why superior killers get away with the whole killing. Like Jack the Ripper now there is a killer to be admired and emulated.

People nowadays want to be what shall we say to be taken for a ride. Well here they go the killers in there the whole lot of them riding. On their broomsticks and on their own steam and we loved them they were the roses and the honeysuckles which we worshipped until they killed their dad.

"He was a disaster he would have disgraced us all."

"We solved both parents."

"Demons?"

"We were just poor."

The doors closed in on them they said because of me? But murder will out no secret murders around. We would have burnt or buried the father. No one would have looked for him he would have been assumed to have run away with some woman.

But " Stop your screaming."

"She is a child like us."

"What shall we do we can't kill her as well?"

"Why not?" She asked her brother.

"It will be wrong one murder two murders and then up it gets."

"We will be hanged anyway."

"We will have to do it?"

I ran like mad.

Asked one of them I did not know if it was a man or a woman beast or human. The agony inside me did not want to see anything the only way to say this is they were sexless. They had ate up their beings and their souls. The whole thing was not even tragic somehow it made me mad.

Their slow even space and the workload to clean the clothes and allow it to dry. Their tempo as they went and emptied buckets and emptied more containers. As if the whole thing was going to be okay if they washed the clothes.

"Sorry sorry for interrupting did not see anything I am not going even to tell."

I must have said so.

They would have killed me too if it had not been for their mum. She stopped them she just said no more she just sat down adding to the confusion and confessed to them she would take the blame.

If they did not kill me?

"If you do not kill the child protect her from yourselves."

Like vampires they were stalled from their prey. I see them now in my mind's eye in their white bloodstain clothes their night dresses all washed and then pink with the stains. They just walked more terrible than any ghosts. That their hair was not styled and they were not eventually to behave wild. I did not want to see the faces which I had known now somehow distorted ugly and in my confusion said as much.

The policeman thought I had been talking about the head which had been severed but not me. I had been speaking about the faces on the shoulders of the children because they were looking so evil. That the police official would have chuckled if he had been not so clueless.

You see when killings start the killers always lose control because it is as if they are fed something like food something for their souls. I felt such terror looked from one to the other as if they were monsters from hell and did not even know whether to dreams were like nightmares. Would have given anything not to be in that place at that time.

"Yes it was a good enough bargain and then what happens to someone who does such a deal?

"They used to get hanged."

I spent a life time trying to figure out who I have to be grateful for and in the end it was to that woman interned in a asylum. The mother of wantons. I am now the direct heir to their thoughts and feelings. Because they just could not do so. They had given their word to their mother. But now the mother has died?

"Oh God they too old to kill."

Could old age be a barrier for not killing? Nothing doing that old people kill and harm as much as the young. The sea saw of thoughts continue.

"I am sorry I am now going to bed and sleep because the thoughts continue and I am too young to deal with it all."

Madness is my inheritance and I accept the gifts from those who are mad. That is life and I go back to bed and sleep. Let someone else solve the mystery.







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