There's something to be said about knowing your own fate and precisely how you're going to die. Some say it would be a blessing as they would live each of their remaining days to the fullest. Others suggest that it would be a continuous countdown of diminishing time, and endless reminder of your impending mortality. At the age of eleven, the concept terrified me entirely, especially because I knew that I was to be murdered.
In a closet sized, second floor wash room, she trapped the four of us in. Barricading the door behind her to be sure we had no chance of escape, the over-sized, deranged madwoman began her chilling taunts. Four wide eyed horrified children hung onto her every word as she began a tale she called "The Perfect Murder". As she did, the woman reaches for a drain stop at the bottom of the tub and wedges it snugly in.
"No one will ever think to look for it", she starts, spinning the squeaky knob to get the water flowing. "They'll think you simply drowned", she says with a smirk, turning her glare toward us again.
With the rushing water filling quickly, she continues in great detail with her plan for our demise. My heart pounds in my chest and the fear overwhelms me as I listen to her speak.
I knew well that she was certainly capable of carrying out such an atrocity for this was not our first time alongside mother and the tub. She'd attempted several times before to drown us, holding our heads under water. This time however, it seemed she'd put much more thought into just how she would complete her mission unscathed by the law. It added a whole new level of terror knowing that she really believed she could murder her own children and get away with it.
"I'll pierce through your heart with a hatpin", she explains calmly, "leaving a hole so small it would never be detected". "Then I'll throw your body into the lake and wait for you to drown".
She spoke with eerie complacency as if it were mere casual conversation between friends. I knew that her demeanor spoke nothing of her intentions and I was more afraid of her in this state than in any rage. This woman could fill textbooks with the levels of insanity she displayed at any given time.
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At my age, I had no idea of the practicality of her story or if it was truly possible. I did however have clear visions of how my life was going to end and that it would be an agonizing death.
Mother drew the long glimmering pin with a shiny oval pearl out from her pocket, then summoned us to the water edge. This is it, I thought. This is how I die.
