Lily is a Badass

         “Why aren't you afraid?” the killer quizzed, genuinely questioning why the young girl was simply standing, calmly, unwavering with an air of detachment, almost bored. The killer felt a cold shiver run through him, this small girl no more than seven, should have trembled with terror. This was what he relished and what he sought; the absolute fear in his victims. He enjoyed the feeling of power that accompanied the terror his victims displayed at the inevitable future. He had his cohorts. He had his routine and it had all played out many times before. The results were always the same; fear, pleading, and death. He had exhorted his pleasures many times with no deviations and in the back of his mind had understood his standard narrative would eventually be disrupted, but he had always thought it would be far into the future, when he was old and frail and his physicality no longer inspired the fear he craved from those he preyed on. Never had he envisioned it would end in the prime of his life and certainly not from a whip of a young girl.

         She stood in the hallway leading from the foyer into the rest of the house with her hands on her hips, fingers down, with one leg straightened and one slightly bent behind her. Her head was slightly cocked to one side and her brows were furrowed, lips slightly puckered. “Why are you not scared little girl?” he repeated, “and where are your mommy and daddy? You know my friends and I are going to find them. And do you know what we are going to do to them when we find them?” He sneered, attempting to instill fear in the girl, to crack the veneer of insolence she brazenly, almost contemptuously, displayed.

He raised his voice and began to boom “I am going to kill your daddy and rape your mo-“

“Shut up” she said quietly.

“What?” he stammered incredulously “What the hell did you just say? You little brat, I am going to thoroughly enjoy making you hurt.” He stood transfixed and in wonderment at this child who would dare defy him and his companions, not only with her insolence, but her refusal to grasp the gravity of her situation.

“I am going to make you feel hurt like-“

“I said, ‘shut up’” she repeated in an even tone.

Curiosity overrode his anger “Why are you not afraid of me and my friends? If you knew what I and my three associates are about to do to you and your family, you would be very afraid.” He glanced about quickly to reassure he had not calculated the situation incorrectly. The gunpowder still hung in the air from the single shot issued to dispatch the babysitter, found on the porch, chatting on her phone, wholly unaware.

“I’m not afraid because my daddy told me not to be afraid of dead things, like a spider or a snake. If it’s dead then you don’t have to be afraid of it” she explained in a monotone.

One of the killer’s companions snorted nervously while another shifted his feet uneasily, this isn’t how it usually goes, the boss makes his speech, the victims make their plea for mercy and then they kill them, laughing all the while. This kid, though, something about the way she stood there with her hands on her hips, not scared, almost like she had been waiting for them to walk through the front door. Maybe she wasn’t old enough to be afraid. Yeah, that had to be it. She was too young and stupid to know what kind of danger she was in, what kind of danger her whole family was in. Yeah, that had to be it. Let’s get this thing over with.

The killer threw back his head and laughed wholeheartedly but the girl’s demeanor had shaken him and his laughter was empty and hollow. “Well, as you can see; we are not dead. This isn't one of you nighty nighty bedtime stories your mommy reads you where the handsome prince saves the princess, and they live happily ever after. This is one of the stories you hear about on the 11:00 news where authorities find the whole family hurt, very badly” again his tone attempted to scare her, at least frighten her, crack her cool at the very least.

“I do not aim with my hand; she who aims with her hand has forgotten the face of her father.

I aim with my eye.



I do not shoot with my hand; she who shoots with her hand has forgotten the face of her father.

I shoot with my mind.



I do not kill with my gun; she who kills with her gun has forgotten the face of her father.

I kill with my heart.”

“What? Wh..wha…what?” the killer licked his lips “What the hell is that?”

“That is the bedtime story my mommy reads to me and I know you’re not dead………because I haven’t killed you yet”

         Tendrils of gun smoke trailed lazily from the spent cartridges cascading to the floor framing a stark contrast to the incredible chaos taking place in the room. The girl had produced twin Glock 36’s which she had been concealing in her hands behind her back giving the appearance as though her hands were on her hips. The sneer of contempt on the bad man’s face was replaced with a cocktail of fear, surprise and rage. He clawed frantically for his gun as the girl coolly and methodically triggered her weapons aimed first at the two cohorts on the either end of the “line” they had unconsciously formed. Two shots apiece from each handgun felled the three companions who had intended to dole out terror, not shot like paper targets at the gun range. They went down in mixed cries of pain and surprise without even un-holstering their weapons

         The bad man was determined not to suffer a similar fate as he had semi-consciously witnessed the dispatching of his compatriots in the split second since the girl had spoken. The eerie calm with which she had spoken had frozen him momentarily, but long enough for the girl to bring her weapons in to action and wreak havoc on what should have been a terror inducing home invasion.

         He cursed as he began to bring his weapon level and felt something slam into his inner thigh just above his left knee. He caught his balance as he felt another impact on his left hip that spun him partially to his left causing him to drop his gun. Two more slugs slammed into him, the first just above his navel and the second to the right of his heart, splitting his sternum. He swayed on his feet and spit blood.

“God damn you-“a bullet smashed into his teeth and exited at the base of his skull narrowly missing his brain stem. He collapsed in a heap of disbelief.

         Down the hall behind her, the girl’s 5 year old sister and 3 year and 2 year old brother peered timidly from the bedroom the girl had stashed them upon hearing the gun shot that killed their baby sitter on the porch.

         “Are all the bad people all gone?” the sister inquired, without answering the girl turned and instructed her to get her bag. The girl took the bag and went to the kitchen and packed several cans of soup and baked beans from the pantry, then crossed to the refrigerator and retrieved yogurt, fruit, juice boxes and milk.

         “C’mon you guys, I don’t know where mommy and daddy are, but we’re not staying here” the girl said. Pushing her disbelieving and whimpering siblings out the door in front of her the crumpled heap of the killer moaned and grabbed at her feebly as she passed. She kicked his hand away, “yuth futhin lil bish” he frothed “I gonna……“his voice trailed off.



“You’re lucky my dad isn't here” she coldly said as she triggered her handgun, cutting off eternally any more he might have said.