The opinions expressed in this article are the writer’s own and do not reflect the views of Her Campus.
October 31st, 1986
There are very few things in life that scare me anymore. That’s how I ended up here. Halloween night. Alone. Watching Nightmare on Elm Street for the umpteenth time. My parents left for a party an hour ago, but not before having to hear my mother ask me “How can you watch stuff like this?”. I only shrugged as I continued watching and shoved a handful of popcorn into my mouth. My mother was always asking stuff like that. Always making comments;
“A girl your age shouldn’t be seeing those kinds of things.”
“How doesn’t this disgust you?”
“I can’t believe that you like this type of thing.”
It’s always the same. I’ve grown used to it by now. It’s not even like it’s anything that bad, just my snobby mother thinking that horror is beneath her and not wanting me to ruin myself anymore than I already have. Her vision of the perfect daughter disappeared long ago, but she’s still in denial. It’s going to be a shame when she finds out the truth. Hell, it’ll be a shame when everyone finds out the truth. Afterall, I’m just the weird girl that no one in school talks to. The high school senior that never goes anywhere. It would be more of a shame if I cared.
The movie credits start to roll and I shut off the TV. Shoving the last remains of my popcorn into my mouth, I set the bowl on the table and stand up. Making my way around the house I make sure all the doors are locked before making my way to the door of the basement, A.K.A. the one room in the house my parents never go into. As I open the door I hear the faint sound of sobbing. It’s basically inaudible when you aren’t listening for it. I hum as I close the door behind me and make my way down the creaking stairs. When I reach the bottom I can’t help the smile that cracks across my face.
There in the dimly lit basement, tied to one of the water pipes, is Laine Peters. She’s one of the pretty popular girls in my class. Everyone always says that she’s “so nice”. And maybe she is… To everyone except me. I didn’t think I would ever have the privilege to have her here. However, I guess I got lucky. She needed notes for a class that she never pays attention in, too busy applying countless coats of lip gloss, and I was the only one willing to give them to her. It was much easier than I thought it would be. Ask her if she wants a glass of water. Hold some homemade chloroform over her nose while her back is turned. Easy as that. Now she’s here. Ever-perfect makeup running down her cheeks as she cries. Not so pretty now, is she? It’s comical, really.
What comes next is the fun part. Making her suffer for bullying me for so long that is. Then when I’m done with her I’ll dump her in the woods somewhere. Make it seem like she was just another victim of one of the countless serial killers that are active. Funny because she technically is. Except no one has found out about me. It’s too easy to replicate others when the police hand out details so freely.
As I walked towards her I could see her trying to get away. Shuffling back the little distance that was between her and the wall before she’s even more stuck than before. I chuckle softly grabbing the wooden baseball bat from where it was resting. Laine shakes as I raise the bat above my head and bring it down hard on her head. Blood splatters as it makes contact with her skull. She goes limp almost immediately, too easy, and I laugh again. Continuing my assault until red covers my hands and the bat and the plastic tarps, that I so geniously put on the walls and floor before I tied her up here, and I smile again. Whoever said that being the bigger person was an idiot.