Jane The Killer

Josephine. It may seem like an odd name but I had a twin brother named Joseph. Ha. Like that explains it. This is the story about how I went crazy and murdered my family.

“Josephine sweetie your father’s home!” Mom called “Oh yay. The drunk came home to beat mom again” I mutter sarcastically under my breath as I trudge down the stairs. I saw dad- if I even call him that. Maybe… Stupid-drunk-sonofab*tch? Nah let’s stick with dad for now. Anyways I saw dad on the couch with a beer drinking and ordering mom around. As usual. I walked up and mustered my most respectful “Welcome home dad” with only a slight bit of sarcasm. He still glared at me. I was getting a beating tonight. F**k! I walked up to mom and plainly asked “Mom why do you put up with him?” I asked and pointed to dad and mom looked shocked “You kids need a father don’t you?” she asked “I could live without one.” I said sourly just loud enough for dad to hear. He started to get up and I tried really really hard to suppress the urge to stab him in his corrupted liver. I tried so, so hard. I succeded. For the most part. All I did was give him a withering glare and he walked up to me and looked just about ready to punch me. I had mascara on so it would mostly hide the black eye and I had been training for years to take a beating. So I just stood there as he approached and you know what he did? He grabbed me by the hair and started to drag me off to do god-knows-what to me and something in me just… Snapped. I grabbed the knife off the kitchen counter and gave him a quick jab in the stomach, he was a big man. Not in muscle in fat and beerbelly. So he went down HARD. I had payed attention in anatomy class so I knew where I could do the most damage to him. Hit some f**king internal organs and sh*t. I kept stabbing and stabbing. The blood felt good on my hands. I was wearing black so it wouldn’t show. And if I was tried I could plead temporary insanity. On a more… Homicidal note… I COULD kill the only witnesses and rack it up to a break in. I’m a troubled adolescent I know how to break into a place. Break the backdoor, take a few things… Yeah… It could be done. So I listened to the voice in my head that was telling me to “Kill! Kill!” and I killed. I killed my mother. And then when Joseph came downstairs to see what was going on I killed him too. I broke the backdoor I took my parents wedding rings and threw them down the trash disposal and I took my family Heirloom. A pretty little trinket but nothing more. I threw that into the trash disposal too. Then I left. Could’ve gotten rid of the knife but I liked the way it felt in my hand. I decided to change my stupid a*s name to something more appropriate. Like… Jane. Ha. I never figured myself as a Jane… But it felt right. Like the knife. Oh hell yes. This is my new life. This is what was missing in my life. I grabbed my headphones and my backpack from my messy room and left. I listened to some music then shoved them back in my pack. Schoolbooks weighing me down. Sh*t. Ditch them. I threw them on the ground and split. F**k school! Who would want to enroll a psychopathic 16 year old anyways? I smirked. This felt good. This felt real good. I went to the biggest bully in school’s house. And heard him scream like a little girl. It was hysterical. Most psychopaths are all creepy a*s smiles and sh*t but no. I am a f**king killer at heart. And I don’t need a smile to scare. I’m sarcastic as hell and have a mental health problem. Blame my f**king dad for that. I killed everyone who got in my way because I FELT LIKE IT! And now I’m just bored… Bye I guess. I’ll be back soon. Don’t you worry…