Categories > Original > Horror0 Reviews
There was a girl who had a curl, right in the middle of her forehead. When she was good, she was very good, but when she was bad, she was horrid.
“When she was good, she was very good and when she was bad she was horrid,” she sang quietly to herself.
“Suzanne,” a sudden voice made her jerk her head up. She heard heavy, pounding footsteps coming up the stairs and she cringed.
“Answer me when I call you girl,” her father’s gruff voice said. She tried to reply, but her voice caught in her throat and all she could do was whimper.
Suddenly her father appeared, a scowl on his face.
“You didn’t wash the dishes like I asked,” he said, then crossed the room and jerked her to her feet.
She cried out in pain, then clenched her lips together, knowing that the noise would make him angrier.
It did and he shook her.
“What do I have to do to make you obey me?” He snarled, then he cruelly grabbed her thin arm and dragged her toward the stairs.
“No,” she screamed, trying to wrench away and he turned, glaring at her.
“This is the only way you’re going to learn,” he said, then turned back around. He dragged her up the attic steps, and threw open the door, shoving her inside.
“Please daddy,” she screamed, “I’ll be good, I promise.”
He ignored her, and closed the door in her face.
The darkness settled on her like a shroud and she whimpered in fear, crouching next to the door. She heard the scurrying of the rats, and imagined she felt the whisper of a spider’s legs on her cheek.
She whimpered again, and suddenly something snapped, she curled up into a ball and felt herself floating away. She smiled as she did, finally she was escaping from her father. She closed her eyes and the world slipped away.
Suzanne opened her eyes and looked up at the house.
Thirty years had passed, since she had been that scared little five year old. Her mother had taken her away the next day and divorced her father. She hadn’t spoken to him since then, but now she was back. Her father was dying, he had called her and begged her to come see him. She had, even though she had no idea why.
Not out of any sense of love or duty, she knew that, but something had made her come back.
She shrugged her shoulders and started up the walk, each step making her feel more and more like the five year old girl she had been the last time she had lived her.
Finally she reached the front door and she rang the bell, waiting until a pretty young woman answered the door.
“Suzanne?” She asked with a smile and Suzanne nodded her head.
“Nice to finally meet you,” the woman said, “I’m Maria, your father’s nurse.”
She opened the door wider.
“Come in,” she said, and Suzanne stepped into the house.
It had changed since she had been here last. It seemed smaller and darker.
“Your father is in here,” Maria said, and Suzanne followed her into a room off the hallway.
She stared at her father, he too had changed since she had seen him last.
He opened his eyes and smiled at her.
“Hello Suzanne,” he said, in a raspy voice, that sounded like it hadn’t been used in years.
“Hello,” she replied, still staring at him.
“Why don’t you get your things from the car and settle in,” Maria said. “Then you can visit with your father.”
Suzanne nodded and left the room, she went back to her car, grabbed her bag and walked back into the house.
Maria took her to the room she had prepared for her and as they walked up the stairs and down the hallway, Suzanne found herself staring at the attic door. She couldn’t help but remember the last time she had seen it.
She mentally shook herself and stepped into the guest room, setting her bag on the floor.
“I have to go out of town tonight and tomorrow,” Maria said. “Will you and your father be alright? He has tubes for feeding and going to the bathroom. He shouldn’t need anything, except for you to change the bags”
Suzanne nodded, and Maria smiled.
“I need to leave now,” she said, “but I’ll be back on Sunday.”
She stepped out of the room and Suzanne followed her, she took her downstairs, back to her father’s room and showed her how to change the bags.
“Here’s my cell number,” Maria said, giving Suzanne a card. “Call me if you have an emergency.”
She smiled, then turned and left the house.
Suzanne visited with her father, but he barely talked, and finally she excused herself.
After making herself some dinner, then going back in and making sure his bags were changed. She went upstairs, pausing and staring at the attic door again.
Finally she tore herself away from it and went into her room, got a quick shower, then prepared for bed.
She climbed under the covers and soon had fallen into a deep sleep.
“There was a girl,” Suzanne sat up quickly and looked around. The little girl’s voice sounded like it was right next to her. But of course she was alone in the room. She sighed and laid back down, closing her eyes.
“Who had a curl,” Suzanne’s eyes flew open and she looked around again.
“In the middle of her forehead.” The little girl’s voice floated around her. And Suzanne got up, feeling like she was in a trance. She slowly left her room and walked toward the stairs, climbing them like a sleepwalker.
She reached a hand out and turned the knob on the door, opening it.
She gasped slightly when she saw the figure of a little girl, curled up in a ball in front of the door.
“No,” she muttered, stepping back, this can’t be possible.
The little girl suddenly sat up and looked at Suzanne and she realized that she was looking at herself when she was five years old.
“You know what you have to do,” she whispered. “He must be punished, he can’t die without paying for his sins.”
“Yes,” Suzanne said softly, “he must pay.”
The little girl smiled, then held out her hand.
Suzanne took it, felt the coldness, then suddenly they became one.
Slowly, Suzanne turned and walked down the attic steps. She walked down the hall, until she came to the main staircase, then she descended those.
She walked down the hallway, past the living room, into the kitchen. She went straight for the butcher block, where Maria had left a knife, and picked it up.
Slowly Suzanne turned and walked toward her father’s bedroom. She opened the door, and went inside, standing over his bed, staring at him for a moment.
“What in the world?” He asked in a frightened voice.
She smiled, then brought the large knife down, cutting into her father’s throat. She kept stabbing, over and over again, until finally she knew he was dead.
She dropped the knife on the bed and turned, leaving the room. She went into the living room and sat on the couch, to wait for Maria to return.
Maria smiled, as she got out of the car and walked up to the house. It had been nice visiting with her sister. But she was glad to be back to a job she loved.
She opened up the front door and stepped inside, frowning at the metallic smell of blood.
“Hello,” she called, but received no answer. She hurried toward the bedroom, she stepped inside and choked back a scream at the bloody sight. Quickly she backed away, then turned, looking frantically for Suzanne, afraid that she to was dead.
She stepped into the living room and stopped, staring in disbelief.
Suzanne lay on the couch, still covered in her father’s blood. She was curled up in a ball and singing quietly.
Maria stepped closer, straining to hear what Suzanne was singing and her blood ran cold.
‘When she was good, she was very good, but when she was bad, she was horrid.”