How I Became a Killer (a section)

         I sat on my living room sofa, watching my daughter as she crawled around the floor chewing on her toys, looking up at me with such innocence in her eyes. I loved that innocence, that uninhibited beauty that was only re-acheivable in death. I said a silent prayer for her to not end up like me, for her to hold on to that innocence...forever. I knew it wasn't possible, but I prayed it could be anyway. Just then I heard a knock on my door.
         Without looking through the peep-hole to see who it was, I opened the door. There he stood, with that same sick smile on his face that I had ran from years ago. I didn't even have a chance to slam the door shut. He pushed me back into my house and followed me in. I glanced down at my daughter quickly, trying to figure out a way to get her out of there before anything happened. I knew something was going to happen.
         He was a monster, not human. Years ago I had taken him in, taken care of him. Before I even had a chance to let myself fall in love, he made the choice for me. It was either get beaten or love him and get beaten anyway. I remembered the crowbar to my skull, the baseball bat, the warm barrel of a gun shoved between my teeth. The horrific memories flooded my mind and my body began to shake. All my thoughts led to my child, the innocent little girl now sitting on the white linoleum floor starring up at him. I know she saw it; I know she saw the evil in his eyes. She started to cry.
         I leaned down quickly to grab her, planning on running out the back door with her in my arms. But as quickly as I leaned down, before I could even touch her, I felt a sudden dull pain against the left side of my skull. It was his thick black leather steel-toed boot. I felt blood start to trickle out of my mouth as I fell to the floor. At that point I knew it was do or die.
         "Guess who's back, baby? Miss me?" The creature jeered as he stomped my head down on the cold hard floor. All I could do was look right at my baby whose tears were now streaking her plump soft cheeks. I couldn't cry. I had to be strong. I had to find a way to get her out of there.
         Alex continued kicking me in the gut; chastising me for leaving him, for running out. Most of the things he said in his raised raged voice I couldn't even hear, I just watched my daughter, praying she would crawl away to the saftey of her room. But there she sat, pounding her hands on her legs, sobbing, watching Mommy get beat. Suddenly, the pains in my ribs stopped. I realized Alex was backing up. His words became audible again.
         "Get up! Get the fuck up, bitch! You fucking pussy, get the fuck up! You wanna be a fucking hero then get the fuck up! What? You don't have the balls anymore, huh? You had balls when you decided to fucking leave, look what good that did'ya! Get the fuck up!" He came back towards me, now standing directly beside my little girl. He knelt down. A million fears of him reaching for her came over me as I started to reach up to stop him. Instead, he grabbed a clump of my hair in his big veiny hands. He jerked my head up and smiled that same wicked smile at me, that smile I once so despised and feared. Then he slammed my head down, hard against the floor. For a second I blacked out. Behind my eyelids I still saw my daughter, crying. The sounds of her screams were echoing through my eardrums. A part of me wanted to just lay there and die. The other part knew I had to do something. As I came back to, Alex was still hovering over me, shouting. Some primal instinct of motherly protection took over me, forcing me on my feet again. I had to fight.
         He came at me again, his eyes glowing with hatred. I swung and connected against his brow. He started laughing and caught me by the hair again as I kept swinging. "One good hit," I thought "Just one good hit and he'll go down and I can grab my baby and run for the backdoor." I couldn't even feel the pain anymore, but I felt myself fall again with a tightening of my stomache muscles. All the oxygen left me and I kneeled gasping on the floor. He still had a hold of me and began dragging me across the room. I kicked and screamed, reaching up and digging my nails into his hand. Nothing phased him. Then I realized I had neihbors.
         As my body was being drug across the floor, I managed to twist myself around just enough so my foot could beat on the paper thin wall between my apartment and the old woman's apartment next door. I knew she couldn't really do anything but she had a son and a couple grandsons that stayed with her often and if I had any luck at all, this would be one of the nights they were there. I knew their couch sat right up against the other side of the wall I was kicking and most of the time, that's were they sat watching music videos on TV. I kicked and screamed desperatly, hoping they could hear me. I was so busy causing the comotion to get their attention that I didn't notice the sound of the cleaning supply cabinet opening and then slamming shut. Alex had discovered my ready supply of bleach and Pine-sol. He hadn't come to my house to just get his satisfaction from beating me around, no, this time he had come to kill me.
         I felt him let go of my hair while his boots pounded away at my face a few more times to ensure I wasn't going to try to run again any time soon. I could feel my face swelling and the streams of blood blurred my vision, but I could still see him unscrewing the cap from the half gallon bottle of Clorox. I didn't realize though that the neihbors had in fact heard my screams for help and at the same exact time were standing at the door. Suddenly, they pounded. Alex jumped up from his squatting position over my head and sat the bottle of bleach on the counter.
         "You expecting company?" He looked at me with a calm face. I shook my head no, too scared to talk. "Stay right there, you move and your not the only one who will be dead tonite." He told me, looking at my disheveled daughter with that merciless sickness in his eyes. I wiped the blood out from my eyes as he headed for the door. I watched as he opened it and saw Leroy's statuesque body peering up over Alex's head. Leroy was one of the old lady's grandsons and stood at a staggering six foot seven inches. He was a backwoods country boy through-and-through and loved nothing more than to drink and fight. It only took a second for him to hear the baby bawling behind Alex and see the blood trail on the floor leading over into the kitchen to me, trying to stand up and regain balance. As soon as he realized I really was in trouble, he pushed Alex back into the house just like Alex had done to me 15 minutes earlier. Behind Leroy stood his short stubby uncle with a stiff piece of wood in his hands. They slammed the door shut behind them.
         Suddenly, this rage filled me. I knew that if these boys beat the hell out of Alex, I would still have to move, hide, and keep a very watchful eye over my daughter because Alex would be back and even angrier. I knew it would never stop, I could never rest easy as long as he was alive. Calling the police was even a joke. They'd come arrest him, then in six months to a year he'd be right back and the next time I might not get so lucky. I reached for the top drawer under the sink. It's where I kept the only weapons in the house - knives.
         I grabbed the biggest one I had, a six inch tool I frequently used to cut deer roasts. I knew I had just sharpened it the day before after cooking dinner, but even if it was dull, I had enough anger inside of me that I was going to make sure this time was the last time Alex ever did this, to me - or anyone else. Leroy and his Uncle were now screaming at Alex whose back was facing me. My life force had crawled into the kitchen where I was and was watching what I was doing amist her sniffles. The rage controlled me. Leroy's eyes kept darting towards me, wondering what I was doing as I walked right up behind Alex. It didn't even let myself think. My right hand brought the knife up in line with the side of Alex's throat and with one swift movement I jammed it in with the blade facing me. It went clean thru. The sharp point of the knife stuck out one end, squirting blood around it. The handle part was on the other end. I remember seeing this look of shock in Leroy's eyes as I let go of the knife. Alex fell to the floor.
         A pool of blood grew larger and larger as we all just stood there watching Alex convulse on the floor. Then the convulsions stopped and the horrible metallic stench of death  began to overwelm my living room. I looked up, right into Leroy's eyes. For the first time since I met him, he looked scared. Hell, he looked down right terrified. But for some strange reason, I felt at peace for the first time in what seemed like forever. Calmly I walked my battered body over to my daughter who, too, was watching the growing pool of blood on the floor. She had that look of amazment in her eyes before looking up at me. I smiled down at her.
         "We're okay now, baby. Everything's going to be okay." I said bending down to scoop her up into my arms. I walked her back into her room and got out her toys to preoccupy her for a little while then shut the door behind me as I walked back out to the murder scene. I told Leroy's uncle to go back and watch her for a second so I could take care of something. She didnt need to be out there in this mess any longer then she had to be. I was already scared that somehow this would end up being her first memory. As he headed back I washed my bloodied hands under hot water in my kitchen sink. Leroy was still standing over Alex, with that same look on his face, just starring.
         "You have your cell phone on you?" I asked him without looking at him.
         "umm...Yeah....Yeah..." He answered, fumbling around his pockets for it. With that, he realized the ever growing pool of human blood was inching closer to his camoflauge boots and he stepped back towards the front door before handing me his phone. I ran over and quickly grabbed it from him, dialing my mom's phone number.
         "Hello?" I heard my mom's rather annoyed voice on the other end. It was late and I knew I was interupting her bar time.
         "Mom, It's an emergency. I need you to come over now." I said in a decerning tone.
         "Why? I'm busy. Why can't it wait till the morning?" Once again she answered me in an annoyed voice.
         "Because by the morning I will be in jail and your grandaughter will be in state custody."
         "I'll be right over." She finally said, knowing that something serious had just happened. And if my mom cared about anyone, it was her one and only grandchild.
         "Hurry, before the police get here. I don't want her to have to be here for all of this." I said before hanging up. I kind of wanted to see the look on her face when she walked in and saw a dead body laying in the middle of my living room. Espesally since it was His dead body. She hated Him. I took the cell phone back over into the kitchen and grabbed my case of beer. I realized what I had just told my mom was true; I probally was going to jail. What I did was in a way self-defense but the truth of the matter is I killed this man in cold blood while his back was turned to me and he was distracted by other people. I could have grabbed my daughter and just ran. I had a perfect opportunity to get out. But I didn't. I killed him. I killed him because I had to. I killed him so I would be able to sleep at night, even if it was in a jail cell. I killed him so I knew he would never come after my daughter or any other female for that matter. Second degree manslaughter. At least.
         If I was going to jail, I had to enjoy my last few minutes of freedom. I dragged the case of beer over to the couch beside the corpse and plopped myself up on the cushion. I grabbed a beer out of the case.
         "Wanna beer?" I asked Leroy - who still was standing by the door in disbelief. Finally, he looked up at me.
         "Well...I reckon so...." he said in a small light voice with a slight shrug of his shoulders. He walked around the body over to where I sat and took the beer from my hand. I grabbed another one, cracked it open, and chugged the entire can in less than a minute. Then I grabbed another...and another...and another.....I kept chugging beers until I realized I wasn't going to be able to get drunk. Not tonite. My body was a wreck and my mind was in just as bad of shape. I knew I needed to call the police and get them here ASAP so I could get the carcass out of my sight but I knew it ment more craziness that I just didn't want to deal with right then. I just wanted to relax for two seconds and drink a beer. I cracked open another beer and this time started slowly drinking, enjoying the crisp refreshing taste.
         I looked down at the cell phone in my hand, then over at Leroy.
         "Listen. When the cops get here just tell them the truth, alright? Don't bother sugar coating it, or making it sound like I'm innocent. Just tell them the truth. Tell them what you know. Tell them everything you saw and heard." Leroy nodded at me. I picked up the phone and dialed 9-1-1.
         "Hello, 911, How may I help you?" A kind female voice said from the other end.
         "Yeah. There's a guy dead in the middle of my living room floor with a knife jammed in his throat." I told her in a strange calm tone of voice, like it was an everyday occurance.
         "How do you know that he is dead, ma'm? Did  you check for vital signs?" I took another slow drink of my beer like it was an expensive foreign wine.
         "No, but I'm the one who killed him."