She Had To Die, Short Story Options

[Sa-Chan]

Story I wrote.

It's yet to be completed...and probably never will be.


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Understand that it is not that I hate her, and it is not so much murder as it is circumstance. You see, it cannot be murder if the victim is unknown to the killer. It is only murder if the killer takes their action out of spite. And I, my friend, feel no spite towards her. Infact, even on the day the plan hatched itself inside my weary brain I felt not even a small amount of spite...towards her. I simply felt the yearning for fulfillment.

I remember it well, the day that my exceedingly wonderous plan was formulated. I was simply laying in bed, exhausted by the toilsome day of school that I had embarked upon that day. I wanted nothing but rest. Ease. A simple moment of quiescence would have been enough.

Perhaps I would have had it, had my eyes not fallen upon the stain on my dresser cabinet. The dark, smoky gray stain, produced by billowing candle smoke, that plagued the smooth, white surface. I cringed. I had spent days trying to scrub the smoke stain off, and when that had failed, I had taken to scraping my fingernails against the wood until they bled, in a desperate attempt to dig the stain out. This had failed, leaving only thin, nail marks.

But it was the glimpse of that disgusting, repugnant stain that stirred the thoughts that had been floating around idly in my brain, into one single over-ruling thought. The girl had to die.

Again I state, it is not that I hate her, I could never hate someone I do not know. She has simply always been there, standing to one side of me at school. A stranger. An intruder. An outlander. We have never spoken a single hello to one another, much less anything else. She has just always been there, cluttering up the hallways, standing to close. Being to casual, with that overly friendly, obviously fake smile of hers. With those eyes that, more than likely, could shoot malicious arrows on will.

But I do not hate her, and what I intend to do is not out of spite, nor is it murder. It is merely circumstance. I feel certain that you agree, as I know that she would as well.


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Second segment added further down.

[Sa-Chan]

Here's a second segment.



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I know, very well, that my long since dead father would have rolled over in his grave had he learned of my current thoughts. He, who had spoken so cruelly of me up until his untimely death, would have been completely murdered with surprise to learn how slyly I went about my plans. You see, the first step is not only to realize the goal, but also to learn about the prey.

Speaking of the poor girl as my prey makes me seem so cold, but what do you expect? Calling her the victim seems to arrogant of me; and arrogance, my friend, is something I am entirely against. So, for now, she is simply my prey. Caught between life and death. Stuck to a web that, soon to come, she would make of her own free will.

I set about my plans very slowly. Taking in as much information as I could by simply watching. At times, the work grew so dull that I thought of simply abandoning the idea at once. Afterall, I had no true reason to kill her; no real idea as to go about the actual killing, but then, looking at the grime that stained my dresser cabinet, I was taken back in by the idea. Truth be told, she was like that stain, like that filth, always there...never fading, never disappearing, never leaving my thoughts. But this way, I could finally rid myself of her.

Finally, the day came when I took the initiative. I sat at my desk in third period English. Days ago, I would have mourned the fact that the girl, who sat next to me, had not yet been moved. Today, however, it played to my advantage. Today, the torture that I had endured would finally play right into my hand. I smirked to myself, and gazed at her.

She was not an exceptionally beautiful girl. Cute, perhaps, but nothing more. She was not easy on the eyes, nor amusing to look at. She would not grow up to be an actor, or a model. In fact, she would not grow up at all. Her dull brown hair, and lonely blue eyes would stay the same until she rotted, all alone, six feet under. When that day came, her existence would never bother me again.

I busied myself with writing down notes, and then, quite suddenly my pencil fell from my grasp, and rolled off the desk. It landed with a soft 'thunk' on the floor. I leaned down to pick it up, being careful to make sure it looked as if it were out of reach. I stayed in this position for several seconds. One...two...three...

"Here, let me help you with that."

I looked up at the speaker, and smiled my sweetest smile. She would never know that she was doomed from that very first smile. Yes, my father would have rolled over in his grave had he known how carefully I put my scheme into action.