Rose the killer
My name is Rose.
People at school call me a freak.
Maybe they’re right.
I got into another fight today. Three boys cornered me behind the gym like always. Jacob ended up with a broken arm, Cameron lost three teeth, and Tim… well, Tim couldn’t stand after I slammed his head against the concrete.
I don’t regret it.
The ride home was silent except for the sound of my mother’s old car rattling down the road. She kept glancing at me with disgust.
My messy black hair covered most of my face, hiding the empty glass eye sitting where my real one used to be. I was born different. Broken. At least that’s what everyone says.
“You need to stop obsessing over Jeff the Killer,” my mom snapped finally. “He murdered people in this town three years ago. Your father says evil like that spreads.”
I stared out the window.
“He isn’t evil,” I whispered. “He’s free.”
My mother looked horrified after I said that.
Good.
When we got home, my father was already waiting for me. Sage. The town priest. Everyone loved him.
If only they knew.
“You should be ashamed of yourself,” he yelled, grabbing me by the collar. “Hurting people in God’s world!”
Then he hit me.
Again.
And again.
His fists slammed into my ribs until I collapsed onto the kitchen floor gasping for air. The smell of whiskey poured from his breath while my mother stood there and watched.
Like always.
He dragged me to the table and forced a notebook in front of me.
“Write it,” he snarled.
I’m sorry.
I wrote the words over and over until my hand cramped and blood dripped from my knuckles onto the paper.
I’m sorry.
I’m sorry.
I’m sorry.
Finally, he threw me into my room.
I locked the door and stared at myself in the mirror. Pale skin. One brown eye. One fake eye. Long black hair hanging over my face like a curtain.
I hated myself.
But I hated him more.
I reached into my drawer and pulled out my favorite scissors. The blades were stained dark from years of use.
Every time he hurt me, I cut myself.
Not because I wanted to die.
Because I wanted to remember.
Thin red lines opened across my arms and stomach. Blood slid down my skin while tears burned in my eyes. My body was covered in scars already. Proof of what he really was beneath the priest act.
A monster.
The next morning, I went to school pretending nothing happened.
That was my first mistake.
Tim and his friends were waiting for me near the football field. Tim’s arm was wrapped in a cast from the fight yesterday.
“Hey, freak,” he laughed. “We got you a present.”
He pulled out a flare gun.
Before I could move, he fired.
The pain was unreal.
I remember screaming.
I remember the smell of burning flesh.
Then darkness.
When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed. My face felt like it was melting. I could hear my parents arguing outside the room.
“He looks like a monster now!” my father shouted. “He looks just like that killer she worships!”
I slowly climbed out of bed and looked into the mirror beside the sink.
Half my face was destroyed.
The skin was blackened and peeling away in strips. My hair on one side had burned off completely, exposing raw flesh underneath. Blood dripped from my jaw onto my hospital gown.
I should’ve been horrified.
Instead…
I smiled.
For the first time in my life, the monster on the outside finally matched the one inside.
I grabbed my scissors from my backpack before the doctors could stop me.
Slowly, I pushed the blades into the corners of my mouth.
The metal sliced through skin.
Blood flooded down my neck.
I kept cutting wider and wider until my cheeks split open into a permanent grin. The pain made my vision blur, but I couldn’t stop laughing.
I looked beautiful.
The smile kept tearing, so I grabbed a stapler from a nearby tray and stapled the skin together piece by piece.
Click.
Click.
Click.
My smile would never fade again.
I walked into the hallway covered in blood.
My parents froze when they saw me.
“Rose…” my mother whispered.
I buried the scissors into her throat before she could scream.
Blood sprayed across the hospital walls while she collapsed choking on her own blood. My father tried to run, but I tackled him to the floor.
“For God?” I whispered into his ear. “Where was God when you beat me?”
Then I stabbed the scissors into his eye.
Again.
Again.
Again.
I didn’t stop until his face was nothing but torn flesh and shattered bone.
The hospital alarms screamed around me as nurses ran in terror.
I laughed the entire time.
By the time the police arrived, I was gone.
The woods became my home after that.
Years passed.
People started disappearing near the forest. Campers. Hunters. Lost teenagers.
They always found the bodies smiling.
Some say I began worshipping Jeff the Killer like a god. Others say I became something worse than him.
Now people whisper my name the same way they whisper his.
Rose the Killer.
If you ever hear laughter outside your window late at night…
Don’t look.
Because if I see your face—
I’ll make sure you smile forever.