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Mercy Killing --
Part 3
by Cynthia Piromalli
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Now let's see, where was I up to? Ah yes, the day I decided it all had to change.
My sister Christina came into the shop where I worked with this amazing bruise on her - it covered the whole area from under her ear, and down her neck. I have no idea how that sort of bruise can be accomplished. I can't remember the excuse she gave me either, but I remember it was lame.
That was also the day she told me she was pregnant.
Typical domestic violence thing happening? Yes. Here's where it changes.
I decided to kill him.
Of course.
I managed to get a gun from a doped out guy who supplied all sorts of things to anyone ... you don't want to know any more than that! I kept this gun wrapped up in thick cloth in my backpack for close to four months. So many times I could've used it on Robert with no worries about Christina being there and getting involved, but I didn't. For some reason, this disease in my head called a conscience kept nagging me to warn my sister that I was going to waste her husband "with this very gun here, see, isn't it pretty?".
So came the day I called Chris and told her I really needed to see her. She came to my flat, and we talked for close to five hours. But this wasn't a wine and roses, leap about in the good old days, deep and meaningful talk. This was about revenge and murder.
She'd been for a check up the previous day. Five months into her pregnancy and, to her dismay but to any other mother's joy, she was coming along perfectly. Abut also, to make matters worse, she was told that she wasn't carrying just one baby, but was the bearer of twins.
She was hysterical and let loose like you wouldn't believe. Maybe I should have waited until she was in a clearer state of mind. But I didn't. And besides, my state of mind at that time wasn't too great either. I was coming off drugs for Christ's sake!
I told her my theory. And what she told me in return only confirmed my fears.
Chris had threatened to leave Robert on several occasions throughout their marriage. About a month before she fell pregnant, Robert decided to scare every inch of wit she had left in her by telling her that he had killed our mother. And, if she wasn't careful, she "might end up the same way". How on earth she felt in the mood to end up pregnant instead is anyone's guess. I imagine she didn't have much say in it.
Well, there was more incentive in that little confession than I would ever need.
In case you're wondering, Robert never did anything to me personally, except hit me a couple of times during the period I lived with them. He was an awful husband to my only sibling, he made me angry and frustrated by that, and he killed my mother - I figured they were all the reasons I needed to kill the bastard.
I suppose you are thinking that I'm no better than him. Maybe I'm not. Maybe it was just a really severe teen angst thing. But let me tell you, in case you've never been in that sort of situation, a feeling like that is very strong. I hated him. And it was a hate deeper than the most dangerous form of obsessive crush.
That was pretty much the last strong sensation I felt for a while.
Everything after that was kind of numb.
Except the pain.
© Cynthia M. Piromalli 2002
©2002 StoriesByEmail.com
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