I Didn't Mean It

I hated him. Didn't matter I was only five, or that Mummy said love you babe at him. Or that he brought us MacDonalds.

He smiled too much. I hated how he smelled, how he laughed, how his earlobes were the wrong shape. I hated his cigarettes and jeans and creepy eyes. The way he tried to boss us around.

I listened to them shout, then the front door went Bang and his car roared away. I hope he crashes.

I imagined it, and I enjoyed the imagining. Too much. He'd smash into a tree! No, he'd flip into a hedge! Upside down, hanging by his seat belt. Stuck. I suppressed a giggle in my pillow, watching the scene re-play, adding details.

The tape got stuck. I couldn't stop it anymore. Couldn't rewind or change it.

Not funny anymore! It's too real!

His mouth gaping, eyes bugging, hands scrabbling for control. Shriek of metal. Petrol-stink, drip, drip. When flames started blooming into a hot mushroom, I found myself locked in mums arms, screaming.

"Baby! What's the matter?"

I nearly told her. He's dead! I killed him!

She felt my head. "Tummyache?"

I stared.

"Bad dream?"

Nodding was easier than telling her what I'd done.

We got the news the next day. Mummy cried. I didn't know how to pretend to be shocked.

It haunted me for years, convinced I'm a murderer. I trained myself not to think bad things about people. People say I'm sweet. They have no idea.

Many years and an expensive therapist finally convinced my memory must be twisted. It couldn't have happened, and if it did, it was a weird coincidence.

I had a normal life. Love. Marriage. Kids. Cheating spouse. Heartbreak. Messy divorce. When I found out his side-piece was ill, I thought, good! I hope it's serious!

I didn't squash the thought. Dr Ramona said nobody can make things happen by thinking them.

The mind-pictures started. Too real. I couldn't stop them.

The cancer's bone deep now. My enemy is a spindly ghost with no hair. My ex looks at me with hollow eyes.

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Word count excluding note: 366

Submitted on Tuesday 13th August at 16:25

A Year of Stories: I'm writing a story every day this year. This one continues my 226 day streak since 1st January.

Please consider lending your support to the other creators on this madcap "a story every day" adventure. They're putting out excellent content every day!

Rachel Deeming

Gerard DiLeo

Thank you

Especially if you are one of the wonderful people who has been staunchly reading these daily scribbles since the start of the year. I see you, and appreciate you very much indeed!

If you enjoyed this one, the very best compliment you can give me is to share it, or read another!

Image: Created with AI

If you like the creepy kids trope, try:

What's Wrong With Freddie

or

What Happened in Mr Rothman's Classrom

For a spot of horror: The Gulls

If you'd prefer a wanky poem: dawn

Here's a recent Top Story:

Here's my look back at July:

Here's my reflections on the recent nonet challenge:

Here's my current Dollar Challenge:

And now for something completely different:

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Thank you again!