The Day I Killed The Devil....

Age 8

Just then we heard a commotion outside and ran to the window. It was a fight, but because where my grandmother lived was considered the ghetto a fight wasn't unusual. We went out to the front porch ,because we were on the top level, to see who it was.

Slowly I realized who it was. I could tell by the clothing that it was my mother getting beat down by her boyfriend Martin. I ran for the front door but it was dead-bolted so there was nothing I could do. I saw a steak knife that we left in the living room after trying to cut up the burnt marks I made on the carpet, picked it up and started making stabbing motions in the air because I felt bad that I couldn't help my mother this time.

I went back out the the porch where everyone was and saw my uncles just looking and letting this man beat his sister my mother. I decided I had enough and was going to do something. I looked over the edge of the porch and decided that the ground wasn't too far so I leaped off it. I realized that I still had the knife in my hands after I regained my breath and I knew what I was going to do with it.

Martin was busy punching my mother like she was a man so my first stick didn't faze him. I stuck him again and I guess it hit a bone cuz he grimaced. He turned around and didn't expect me i could tell by his expression. He touched the part of his back that I stabbed and came away with red hands.

He headed towards me slowly but I wasn't scared because I could tell with every step he hurt plus I still had the knife. My mother saw that he was advancing towards me and jumped up with a new found energy.

"Leave my baby alone!" she shouted.

This took his attention off of me and a chance to stick him again this time I went for his stomach. He really felt this one but my mother had him by the hair so he couldn't do much. The knife was stuck on something so I had to twist it to get it back out. I immediately stuck it back in him in the same hole and almost lost the knife in there. Blood sprayed everywhere.

Martin stopped fighting and reached for the knife which was still in him, by then i had stepped back. He lost his footing and fell face first on the ground directly on the knife driving it deeper in. He stopped moving. I knew death when I saw it and he was dead.

The police and the meat wagon came, and I was taken to the police station. They asked me did I know what I did and I said.

"I killed the devil"

Age: 9

Before school started we moved out of that apartment to one next door that was a little better and had working toilet facilities. My mother warned me not to talk about our living conditions to anyone at school even if they asked.

After killing the devil I was even more distant at school. I had evil thoughts in my head that I could kill anyone in the classroom, feeling power like I had never felt before. I thought of everyone else to be just minor nuisances. A white guy named Adam took interest in me and would hang on my every move. I could tell he was trailer trash and I guess we were a perfect match cause I was a hood rat.

A month of school when past and my mother found her a new boyfriend. He wasn't as ugly as Martin but I could tell he wasn't shit. His name was Gerald and I couldn't wait until he gave me a reason to kill him too.

I guess my mother gave Gerald the heads up about my past so he made sure he kept his hands off of my mother, at least when I was around. I hardly did my homework and would just go outside and play by myself when I came home from school. I was considered weird to other kids so no one aside from my small click would say two words to me. My favorite place was a open field that I always had to myself. I didn't play anything in particular I just talked to myself mainly fighting demons some would say.

On this day I got an intense and uneasy feeling in my gut. Something was happening, so I looked down and saw a cut in half brick, picked it up, and headed home. Going up the stairs I could hear my mother hollering. So I ran up the stairs and caught up to Gerald and my mother fighting in the stairways. He really wasn't hitting her, he was just trying to detain her and push her up the stairs to our apartment. That however was enough for me to go into action. He didn't see me coming but he felt the blow from the brick I had in my hands. He looked back and I could instantly see the fear in his eyes. I must have looked like a little demon and scared the hell out of him because the next thing I knew his foot came up - he kicked me square in the chest and I went backwards down the stairs.

For the second time in my lift trauma has made me feel sleepy, i'm guessing that I hit my head really good. My mother ran to my aide and I could hear Gerald say "I didn't know what he had in his hand", over and over again.

My mother was a nurse so there was no police contact. She knew that with too much police contact I could be taken away. It was safe to say that was the end of my mother and Gerald's relationship. He never came around me and I was given strict instructions to never tell a soul about what happened.