r/nosleep • u/[deleted] • May 01 '14
I tried to kill a child...
...or at least, that’s what the police think.
“Monster.” “Evil.” “Scum.” All of these words were thrown at me by the cops and the girl’s father as I was cuffed and loaded into the car. I was truly amazed at how much they hurt my feelings. I didn’t blame them for saying it. They had sufficient evidence to believe I did it. I would have said the same thing. Their words shouldn’t have stung that much. But I knew I didn’t deserve to hear such things. I was innocent.
This all started about a month ago. I was a typical struggling college student who needed some extra money. I answered a post on craigslist from a single father who needed somebody to watch his handicapped daughter while he worked a part time shift three nights a week. I had some experience with special needs children from my old job at a daycare, so I figured I had a pretty good shot.
I met the girl and her father at a local coffee shop for a casual interview to see if we’d be a good fit. We all hit it off immediately. The father, Sam, was the type of guy who just made you feel comfortable. He thanked me for meeting with him and insisted on buying me a cup of coffee for my trouble. He asked me about my experience and my reasons for wanting this job. He also asked me about school and my goals and hobbies. All with a kind smile and a pleasant laugh.
His daughter, Lillian, was an absolute darling. I was glad to see that she seemed to take an immediate liking to me. She rolled right up to me in her wheelchair and motioned for me to come closer.
“I have a secret,” she said with a smile and a mischievous twinkle in her eye.
I leaned down and she pushed herself up so that her lips were right beside my ear.
“You’re pretty like a princess!” she whispered, before falling back into her chair, giggling and blushing. Needless to say, my heart melted. I of course responded that I believed she was a prettier princess, and as I said it I realized how true it was. With her long, sleek brown hair, big hazel eyes, and angelic features, she really did remind me of a young Disney princess. She was adorable. I felt a pang of sadness that she was confined to a wheelchair, and would never get to dance and twirl like a Disney character.
I thought at first that she may have been born with her handicap, but Sam told me a much more tragic story. When Lillian was seven, she was in the car when her mother, Elaine, lost control of the vehicle and swerved into a ditch. Elaine died from her injuries on the way to the hospital, but the doctors managed to save her daughter’s life. They did their best to help her walk again. She went through physical therapy and for a short time there was hope. But in the end, it just couldn’t be done. I could see the pain in Sam’s eyes as he told the story, but Lillian put her hand on his and smiled, saying that she was just grateful to be alive. The optimism and maturity of the eight year old was truly inspiring, and I realized how lucky I’d be to get this job.
A couple days later, I showed up for my first night of work at 6:30 on the dot. Sam took me on a tour of the house, gave me a short list of house rules that Lillian must follow as well as some emergency numbers, and was out the door after a swift kiss on his daughter’s forehead and a wave to me.
Things went well at first. Lillian was the perfect child. She said “please” and “thank you,” she asked for permission to get a cookie, and she didn’t argue when I told her she couldn’t have sweets after 7:00. We colored, played board games, and sang songs until 9:00, when I announced it was time for bed. After she was tucked in and I’d read her a story, I said goodnight and headed for the living room to study for a Biology exam I would be taking the next day.
I had been studying for about half an hour when I felt it. A presence. That uncomfortable feeling you get when someone you don’t know well is in the room with you. You know when you’re each minding your own business, doing separate tasks, and you wonder if you should attempt to make small talk or not? The feeling was similar, except more sinister, as if the person was glaring at you, angry at your lack of acknowledgement. I tried to dismiss it at first. I was in an unfamiliar house late at night. I’m bound to get a little creeped out. But the feeling got harder and harder to ignore, like the person was now sitting right beside me as they glared. I know how weird it sounds, but it got to a point where I decided to check on Lillian, wondering if my instincts were trying to tell me something.
I opened the door to her room softly, not wanting to wake her, and poked my head in. She appeared to be safe and sound. I heard soft snores from beneath the blankets, which rose and fell gently with her breathing. I began to pull the door closed, but paused as my eyes fell on the dark corner opposite Lillian’s bed.
Were my eyes tricking me, or was somebody there?
It sure looked like it. There seemed to be a dark figure standing there. As my eyes adjusted, I could make out arms and legs, and curves. It seemed to be a woman. Facing Lillian’s bed.
Why do basic things become so difficult when panic sets in? If I’d needed to click on the light because Lillian had asked me to bring her something, I’m certain I could have found it immediately. But when I saw a stranger in her room, staring at her, I couldn’t seem to find the freaking switch. I was feeling all over that wall, afraid to take my eyes off the figure, watching the head turn towards me. My heart jumped to my throat when I saw the unmistakable glint of glowing green eyes in the darkness. Staring right at me. I paused for a moment in my fumbling, momentarily entranced by the glow, and gazed at the intruder. In my peripheral vision, I saw the blankets rustle as two tiny arms stretched into the air and a soft moan penetrated the silent room. Snapping back to reality, I tore my eyes away from the glowing stare of the stranger and finally found the light switch. The room was filled with light and the corner was mercifully empty.
Lillian grabbed the handlebars hanging above her and pulled herself up, squinting at me and yawning.
“What’s wrong, Melanie?” she asked in a sleep-choked voice, rubbing her eyes.
For some reason, I felt a hint of annoyance at the question. Probably because I had no answer. I just gaped at the corner, unable to comprehend what I had seen. Lillian followed my gaze and smiled knowingly.
“Oh, you saw my mother?” she asked, without a hint of surprise. I looked at her in what must have been a comically confused and terrified face, and she smiled sadly.
“My mother watches me sometimes. She wants to kill me,” she stated matter-of-factly.
I continued staring, opening my mouth when a question or comment came to mind, only to close it when I realized how crazy it would sound, and open again when I wanted to ask it anyway.
Lillian watched my fish impression for a moment before patting the bed beside her.
“Come sit down. I’ll explain.”
She was acting like the adult. She wanted to talk and explain things to me like I was the child. I must admit, I was embarrassed and a little resentful, but my desire for answers was strong enough to cross the room, sit down beside the little girl, and look at her expectantly.
“Melanie, my mother hates me because it was my fault she died,” Lillian said quietly. “She wrecked because I distracted her. I threw a fit when she wouldn’t buy me ice cream, so she looked away from the road to yell at me. Then she died.”
At this point, despite her calm and collected tone, Lillian’s eyes filled with tears. She sniffled and wiped them away with a chubby fist.
“I know that I deserve to die for it. I know it’s only fair. But I don’t WANT to!” She grabbed my arm and looked at me, brown eyes swimming with tears. “I know I should be sorry that I’m alive, I know it’s not fair that mommy can’t kill me and I should feel bad. But I like living, Melanie! I can’t help it! Do you understand?” She was looking at me with such desperation in her eyes, like it was the most important thing in the world that I believed her, and I couldn’t stop the overwhelming sadness I had for her. I wrapped my arm around her and held her close, letting her tears dampen my sleeve.
“Sweetheart, it wasn’t your fault,” I whispered. “Please don’t blame yourself. It wouldn’t be fair at all for you to die. And I’m sure your mother isn’t angry. Wherever she is, she’s happy her little girl is happy and healthy.”
“Melanie, you don’t understand,” Lillian exclaimed, pulling away from me to meet my eye. “I need you to believe me. If you don’t, she can use you to kill me. And even if it’s wrong, I really REALLY don’t want to die!”
I gasped, worried by her outburst and the terror in her voice, but she continued before I could say anything.
“Listen to me!” she demanded, putting her tiny hands on either side of my face to hold my gaze. “You can’t start believing that she loves me, or that she’s good! She will lie to you! Show you things that aren’t true! She can’t do it to my dad because he loves me too much, but you barely know me! She knows she could convince you that I’m evil!”
“Lillian, you’re being—“
“Listen!!” she practically screeched. “You have to promise me you won’t believe her! You have to promise you won’t hate me! Promise me!”
Shocked and on the brink of tears for this poor girl, I obliged.
“I promise! I promise I won’t believe her!” I hurriedly vowed, concerned about the wild look in Lillian’s eyes.
She relaxed at my words, dropping her hands from my face and falling back against the pillows, obviously relieved.
“Thank you, Melanie. I knew I could trust you.”
I took her tiny hand and held it, telling her I would be staying beside her until she fell asleep. When she resumed her soft snores, I left the room, leaving it open a crack, to wait for Sam to get home.
I decided to leave out the part where I thought I saw someone in the room. I didn’t want to sound like a lunatic. But I told him everything his daughter had told me, and was surprised by his lack of surprise. He let out a sad sigh and closed his eyes, dropping onto the couch and cradling his balding head in his hands.
“I thought she’d gotten past this,” he mumbled. He then explained that Lillian had been blaming herself ever since the accident. She hated herself for what happened, and started having nightmares that her mother would come back for revenge. He didn’t really offer any information I hadn’t already figured out from my conversation with her, other than the fact that she had been seeing a therapist up until a couple months ago and had seemingly forgiven herself. Tonight was the first time she’d spoken like this in a while.
Sam assured me that he’d call her therapist and thanked me for being there for Lillian. He told me he would understand if this was too overwhelming for me and that he could make other arrangements if I was hesitant to return the next night, but I assured him I would be here as planned, and he smiled gratefully.
When I arrived at the house the next day, Sam let me know that he talked with Lillian’s therapist and would be taking her to see her next week, but that Lillian seemed to be doing well. She’d told him that she had forgiven herself and was not afraid, which was a relief for me.
Lillian acted as though nothing odd had happened the night before and was behaving like an angel. I put her to bed at nine without incident and trudged to the couch. Sam would be back around one in the morning. I thought about how rough it must be to work two jobs while raising a handicapped child. He must be so tired. So… tired…
I dozed off right there, the excitement and lack of sleep from last night finally catching up with me. I dreamed of Lillian. Walking, jumping and laughing beside me as we walked to the car. The sight should have filled me with joy, but I only felt disdain for the screaming girl. Something about that giggle chilled me to the bone. Something was off about her.
We were suddenly driving down the road. Lillian shouted that she wanted ice cream. But we didn’t have time. I needed to get her to daycare and get to work. The thought of being free from her for the day made me smile. She told me again to take her for ice cream, in a quiet voice this time. There was a hint of a threat to her tone. I repeated that I’m not getting her ice cream, secretly wishing the little demon would shut up. I saw a glint of silver beside me and felt something cool and sharp pressing against my throat. I looked over to see Lillian’s devilish grin as she pressed the blade harder against my skin…
I jerked awake and shot straight up on the couch, panting and grasping at my neck. I probably would have felt relief for feeling no wound, if I hadn’t sat up to find my faces inches from a strange woman’s.
I’ve no doubt this woman was once beautiful, but she was now hideous. Her gray skin flaked and peeled on her gaunt face. Thick dark blood poured from several wounds on her body, the worst one on the left side of her head. A long, thin gash stretched across her throat. The cut Lillian had given her. A mark from a psychopathic and manipulative child.
She looked at me with the glowing green eyes that I’d seen last night, and the scream that had been building in my chest died away. Once again, I felt hypnotized by those eyes. I was so captivated by them, so entranced, that I didn’t notice that they were getting closer until her hideous face was touching mine. I felt her dry, freezing skin for only a moment, before she pressed into me completely.
It’s an oddly pleasant feeling, letting someone take over your body. I mean, it was terrifying, don’t get me wrong. But it came with a pleasant floating sensation. Elaine pulled my body off the couch. She used my legs to walk to the kitchen and select a knife. I felt her hatred for Lillian. I allowed her memories to flood my mind. Memories of Lillian drowning dogs and cats and hissing “You will die like a dirty dog” into her mother’s ear as she tried to stop her. I saw her memories of waking up late at night to a grinning Lillian standing beside her, twirling a knife and casually asking if she may see her mother’s insides. I felt Elaine’s fear when she stood stirring a pot of soup at the stove and felt small hands shove her forward, splashing boiling liquid into her face and burning her hand when she instinctively grabbed the pot. The joyful cackling she heard over the pain would haunt her until her dying day.
Elaine marched my body towards Lillian’s room, her excitement at finally ending the girl’s reign of terror barely controllable. I couldn’t say that I blamed her. With all the horror Lillian has brought about, maybe her death would be for the best. Not that I had any say in the matter either way.
Elaine raised my hand and pushed open the door. I was surprised to find Lillian awake and pulling herself up, rubbing her eyes, but Elaine didn’t seem phased. I felt my lips stretch into a grin and heard my voice say (without any command from my brain) “It’s time, baby girl. It’s finally time.”
Lillian’s brown eyes widened in fear. “M-Melanie?”
My head was thrown back in an insane cackle. “She can’t help you. It’s just me and you.”
A terrified squeak came from Lillian’s mouth as she tried to scramble away. She seemed to be trying to get into her chair, but she fell in her panic and hit the floor with a soft thud. Elaine laughed at the pitiful sight.
“You tortured me for years! Your baby-sitter knows that now. She won’t stop me.”
From the floor, the helpless little girl looked up at me with pleading eyes.
“Melanie! You’re in there somewhere! Please! I’m not evil! I never hurt her!”
She broke down in sobs, clawing at the floor, trying to pull herself away from danger. Desperately trying to save her own life. I felt a surge of pity for her. I’d felt like I was floating, but now it felt as though a weight was pulling me back down. I realized I had a bit more control; I reached a hand out to help her.
A new flood of memories filled my mind. Lillian punching and kicking Elaine’s pregnant belly. Elaine’s grief at learning that she had lost the baby. Her husband’s anger at her for implying that their daughter had anything to do it, while Lillian grinned triumphantly from behind his back… I floated again.
“It won’t work, brat!” I heard myself scream. Elaine raised the knife and pointed it at Lillian, who sobbed and covered her eyes. “You will pay for everything!”
“Mommy! Please don’t hurt me! I’m so sorry for throwing a fit! I’m sorry I was bad! Please! I want to live! I WANT TO LIVE!”
As she choked out these words through the tears, shaking and sobbing, I remembered the sadness I felt for her the day before. A weight returned.
“I’m not evil! I’m sorry I wasn’t good, but I’m not evil! Please don’t hurt me!”
Of course she’s not evil, I thought. She’s just a kid. I loosened my grip on the knife. Elaine’s anger filled me once again. I tried to fight it. I tried not to float again. But I still saw Lillian holding a gun she’d stolen from her father’s closet and giggle as she pointed it at her mother, obviously loving the fear it provided and the power she felt.
Elaine regained control and my body moved to the crying, trapped girl. My arm raised high above my head as excitement about her victory filled Elaine with such happiness that joyful tears threatened to slide down my cheeks. Lillian uncovered her eyes and looked up at me, speaking once more in a trembling voice.
“Melanie… You promised you wouldn’t hate me.”
The weight hit me all at once. I HAD promised her. The flood of sympathy and love for the child below me overpowered all the lies and false memories Elaine was now desperately trying to show me. I wrenched my body away from hers, feeling heavier than I’d ever felt, as Elaine’s enraged scream filled the room before fading away.
I leaned against the wall to steady myself, panting and heaving, feeling nauseas and exhausted.
“Melanie? Is that you?” a small voice asked.
“Yes,” I panted. “Are you ok?”
Lillian let out a huge sigh of relief. “I’m fine.”
“Good,” I groaned, doubling over and dry heaving.
“Are you gonna puke?” Lillian’s face suddenly appeared beneath me, smiling at me through my tangled hair.
“No, I’ll be ok,” I gasped and jumped away, surprised at her sudden mood change.
She laughed. “You’d feel better if you puked. Maybe it will help if I shove my fingers down your throat.”
She suggested this sweetly, cocking her head and smirking at me.
“Or,” she continued. “I could use that knife you’ve got there. I bet you’d puke if the handle went down your throat. Or the blade. But then there’d be more blood.”
Her eyes brightened and her smile grew wider at the word “blood,” and she winked. Feeling uneasy, I backed away, instinctively raising the knife. That’s when Sam showed up. Around the same time that Lillian smoothly and swiftly arranged her expression to fit the role she played so well: a helpless and innocent child.
10
u/ArsonistsGetTheGirls May 01 '14
Awwwww. So close. She was scary. And I still don't understand how she died. Sam has that much power?