The First Sign Of Spring

“Look Mama! A robin!” Emma eagerly points out.

“Yes honey! A robin! The first sign of spring!”. I say, trying to stay positive. She can’t see a moment of weakness in my face. She can’t know about what happened in spring those years ago. 

-3 Springs ago-

It was a normal spring. I had just turned 19. The sun was shining, flowers were blooming, people were hanging bird feeders, and setting out decorations. I however was getting drunk with some friends. I was a foster kid until I was 16. I got adopted by a nice couple who couldn’t have their own kids. Don’t get me wrong, I loved living in Oklahoma. I had a life there. I had friends, a school, and I worked at a Starbucks.  But my favorite thing was my boyfriend, James. James was the first person who ever talked to me. But James had secrets too. Like the fact that he was abusive. Now that I look back, I should've seen the red flags. He was shady. He was always sneaking around, acting upset when I asked what he was doing, and so many more. But I guess since he was the first guy I ever dated that I felt I couldn't leave him. James hurt me in many more ways than just 1. He would mentally abuse me, physically abuse me, and even rape me. I just let it happen. 

The third time he raped me, I was drunk. I couldn’t squirm or cry. I was out of it. About a month later we found out I was pregnant. That made James upset. He beat me and gave me bruises everywhere. I thought it was okay. I should have left then.

So one night I came home, (By this time I was 8 months pregnant) hormones were at an all time high, and he was with another woman. I saw them together, and I freaked out. I grabbed the shotgun off the mantel, and I fired 3 shots. 1 into the woman's head, and 1 into her heart. The 3rd bullet went into James’s leg. He looked at me, and began to beg for forgiveness. 

“Please don’t do this! What about our child! Our baby! Please don’t kill me! It n-needs it’s dad! It needs to grow up with a dad! Please! Don’t kill me! Pl-” 

Before he could finish his sentence, I shot him. I had heard enough. Our baby didn’t need him. It only needed it’s mommy. 

-June 15th, 2017-

My due date. I had a new name, a new identity, and I lived in England. After I shot James, I hopped on a bus and went to the airport. There I lied and told them I wasn’t pregnant. I said my tickets got cancelled. They believed me. I am now giving birth to my baby girl, in a wonderful word without James. I did what needed to be done. I changed everything, I gave up everything for him, and yet, he still hurt me. I’m getting the epidural as we speak. Wish me luck.

-June 16th, 2017-

8 pounds and 9 ounces. That's how much she weighs. She was perfect. She has a beautiful round face like an angel. Her skin is so soft, no sign of jaundice. She has bright blue eyes, and honey gold hair. She’s gorgeous. I think the name Emma will suit her well. Emma Montgomery. Perfect. She looks nothing like James. I should be grateful, but a small part of me wishes I didn’t kill him. The story of how I killed James is famous. I know that it will go down in history as a famous unsolved cold case. One can dream, right? 

-Emma’s First Birthday-

One years old. Where has the time gone? It seems like I just fled the country, after killing her father. She has grown so big now. She already has some teeth. Her first word was daddy. I slapped her for saying that word. I don’t even know how she learned that word. She doesn't need her daddy. She has mommy. She will always have mommy. No matter what. She has a red velvet cake with cream cheese frosting as her smash cake. It has wafer paper princess cutouts on it too. She’s picking at it. I understand she is a baby, but I shove her face into it anyway. I spent 4 hours on that cake. She is crying now. I don’t understand why. She has cake. She just needed a little help. That’s all. 

-Emma’s Second Birthday-

Wow. I have a 2 year old. Time flies when you are running from the world. Emma likes to run and play outside. She can form full sentences and speak clearly. She asked about her dad today. I slapped her and locked her in the basement. She doesn’t need daddy. I always tell her that he doesn't exist. This year she has a double chocolate cake with chocolate frosting and sphere sprinkles. Yellow. Her favourite colour. For her birthday she asked to go to the park. I think we should make it a tradition. I got her a puppy. She named him Bingo. He is a blue heeler. She loves him.

-Emma’s Third Birthday-

*Present Day*

When I look back, I should have done things better. After all, Emma is three years old today. We are at the park, walking Bingo, looking at the flowers blooming, and the bees buzzing. I should have let Emma meet her daddy. I shouldn’t have shot him. But if I look at it from a different perspective, I did the right thing. Sometimes I think I should kill Emma too. I mean, she hasn’t done anything wrong, but I can’t leave her without a mommy. I plan to kill us both at sunset. We shouldn't have to run. Running hurts. Especially with my other 3 personalities trying to shine over each other. The dog will have to be killed too. Maybe a cyanide pill. Or even drowning. I don’t mean that I hate it, but I can’t let it live on the streets. As we approach the bridge, I have the cyanide pills. First I drown Emma, then I give the dog a pill. Then I take one. That's the plan that I have been thinking about. 

“Look Mama! A robin!”  Emma eagerly points out.

“Yes honey! A robin! The first sign of spring!”, I say, trying to stay positive. 

The End