Sample Sunday – I was six when I decided to kill my father.

An extract from Burn, Baby, Burn for Sample Sunday.

 

Marcus knew Celine was aware of his naked figure seated alongside her on the bed. He had seen her risk a glance in his direction, he registered the terror on her face. He was awake, but his mind roamed elsewhere. He dreamed of flames, licking softly at the exposed flesh of two young girls. Their screams were clearly audible from his position in the shrubbery.  Another memory came to mind and he smiled, brilliant white teeth flashing in the gloom. A thought occurred to him. He could share his pleasures with the girl; she was a cousin to those two, after all. Surely she would appreciate his gift, this was no time to be selfish.

“I was six when I decided to kill my father.” His voice, low and faint, startled her. Marcus knew she had thought he had forgotten about her. She inched further away.

“He showed no signs of ill-health, my father, and so killing him was the only possible solution,” Marcus continued. “I had reached the end of my tether as far as he was concerned.  His efforts to mould me in his image appalled me. Why would I want to be like him?”

“I don’t understand. Why are you telling me this?”

“He was professor of mathematics at the university,” Marcus continued, disregarding her question.  “He thought he knew everything.  My mother, she was different. I must have been more intelligent than my mother while I was still suckling at her disgusting breasts.” Celine turned aside her head so she no longer looked at him. Marcus reached across her body and grasped her chin, turning her to face him once again. He looked into her eyes, seeking out her soul. “I’m just reporting facts accurately.  My parents, they were not pleasant at all.  I can remember that quite clearly. I want to tell you everything. You’re not going to tell anyone, are you?”

Celine screamed as his hand stroked her shoulder. He smiled. “Scream all you like. You must know by now, there’s nobody around to hear you.”

“You bastard, you sick fucker, let me go.”

“It was quite easy,” Marcus continued, disregarding her again, “much easier than I thought it would be.” He paused, looking through her. “The secret is in the planning. I found a disused well in the field behind our house. Our house was in the country, no close neighbours, nobody to meddle in my affairs.”  He stared impassively over Celine’s shoulder. She turned her face away again but he disregarded it this time as he continued to speak in the same calm voice.

“The well was covered over with asbestos sheets which were ledged against the sides of the well. It had been abandoned for many years and I saw its potential immediately. The edge was flush with the ground, and when I covered it with leaves and grass it was invisible. I’d moved the central asbestos sheet so it was barely resting on the lip of the well.

“I was pretty sure it would work, but of course, I made a trial run to be certain. We had a dog, a golden retriever named Jake. I took him to the field and led him to the edge of the well. Even though the cover was completely hidden by grass and leaves, Jake was unwilling to walk on it. I had to push him quite hard before he fell in. I watched him swimming around for a while, the water was about thirty feet below the surface, but he didn’t bark, never made a sound. He kept looking up at me, and then just slipped beneath the water. I waited a while longer, but he didn’t surface, so I covered the well over again and went home for lunch.

“Nobody missed Jake for a while, he often went off for a couple of days at a time, so his disappearance wasn’t even mentioned. My mother put food in his bowl, ready for when he came home. Every time I looked at that bowl it made me smile.”

“You bastard!”

Marcus waved a finger in mock admonishment, before continuing. “I waited until Sunday morning, when my father had finished washing his car. My mother had gone back to bed – this was not unusual at weekends – so nobody else was around. I asked him to help me look at a badger’s sett in the woods on the far side of the field. He wasn’t keen, but I carried on asking until he agreed to come with me. Nature study was a worthwhile endeavour and would allow him to pontificate and display his knowledge of the habits and lifestyle of the badger family. He was rambling away as we set off across the field, and never noticed the slight creak of the asbestos cover as I walked across the well cover. I had tested it in advance, and knew it would bear me, but under my father’s greater weight the cover bent precariously until it was just barely overhanging the edge of the well.

“He stood absolutely still, realising his position was unsafe, but not yet aware of the extent of the danger. At first, I was annoyed that the cover had not slid off the edge as I’d planned, when the asbestos sheet suddenly snapped right across the centre and he went straight down. I crawled to the edge of the well and lay full-length on the grass so I could look down into the pit. His pale face was clearly visible, and below the surface I could see his legs moving as he trod water to stay afloat. He shouted up to me. ‘Go and get help. Run across to the farm and fetch Mister Saunders. Tell him to bring a rope. Hurry son.’

“I moved away from the well and sat for a while in the sunshine, catching insects and pulling their legs off. When I went back to the well he was still there, his arms splashing. I could see blood on his fingers where he had tried to support himself on the walls, but the bricks were too slimy. I just looked at him and watched his expression change as he realised I didn’t intend to fetch help.

“I enjoyed looking at him, but he never spoke to me again. I had previously collected a supply of stones on the off-chance they would be needed, and I can remember being disappointed with the first two. One missed him completely and he managed to ward off the other, suffering only a graze on his arm. The next stone, a really solid piece of granite, hit him full in the face, pushing him under the water. When he came back up, he floated face down and didn’t move at all.

“I didn’t cover the well as I knew he would be found eventually and it was best to make it look like an accident. I went home and made myself a snack. A packet of crisps and most of my father’s Christmas tin of shortbread biscuits he had forbidden anyone to touch. Well, he wouldn’t need them, would he? I remember going back to my bedroom where I played with my toys until my mother got up and noticed he was missing. She never even asked me if I’d seen him. It was more than three weeks before the police found his body.”

While he had been telling his morbid story, Celine had wedged herself between the edge of the mattress and the wall, her arm extended to the limit allowed by the handcuff on her wrist. When she spoke, it was in a hoarse whisper,

“But, you were only six, just a baby, how could you kill anyone?”  She bit her lip, drawing a bright bead of blood.

“I was a child prodigy,” Marcus said with complete sincerity. Celine made no response, staring at his dead unblinking eyes, her own equally unblinking frozen with terror.

“My sister was ordinary,” he said as he looked through her, “not like me at all.”

“You had a sister?”

“Yes, I had a sister…” His voice was dreamlike and sounded far away. “…A year younger than me. My earliest memory is of hatred for her. I begrudged the attention she got from my parents. It was even worse after she disappeared, nobody noticed me at all. You would have thought a lost child was unique, it happens in the best of families.”