I can almost remember that little rooder bitch. So sweet and innocent, just like her stupid mother. Like my mother, I'm glad I did what I did. I would have killed all of her family and that little runt Dennis if I had the chance, yet only a small part of me actually regrets what I did, I guess if I had thought for a minute about what would happen if I had took to my destiny as a rooder, things would be different. Would I still be alive? Would Lord Burroughs have spared me for my skills? I guess not, if I had trained to be a rooder, I was just like the rest. Just another candidate for the ritual of Engagement.
The earliest I remember was when I was five. Dear mother had given me my first pair of scissors, I was so pleased. My older brother, Ralph, had already got some and had since upgraded to normal scissors. Yet it was still pretty special. I had always had a fascination with sharp objects, I often seen kids much older than me with knives and glass. That's when it all began.
My brother and I were playing in the living room with my nana and my best friend. I was cutting out "pretty" shapes and sticking them on paper to make patterns. That's not unusual right?
After making us some dinner, my mother came in the room talking on the phone about some stuff I didn't understand, and I felt an immediate urge to attack her! It was like I was in a trance. I had watched lots of cartoons where someone got possessed by something, but they always turned out ok. I stared at my sweet mother with my scissors in my hand and turned to look at my brother. He looked at me with is usual evil grin, almost egging me on to do it. Almost in a trance, I walked up to my mother, and shoved the scissors straight through her chest. My mind when blank after that.
I thought I was unconscious but I remember all sorts of sirens. Police, Ambulance and news reporters everywhere. Next thing I knew, I had fainted.
I had no idea how long I'd been out but I recall waking up in a little hut inside a sort of village on the outskirts of a mansion. I had chains on my arms and legs, and there were no sharp objects in the room. Strange. My door was locked and bolted, for my protection or theirs? My brother was in a bed next to me, perfectly fine and not chained up like me.
It's all kind of blurry now, but I vividly remember not being able to remember what happened. Well, until a woman came in with a newspaper. She dropped it on my bed with a sweet smile and a glass of lemonade.
"What's this?" I nearly choked upon hearing my voice after so long. The woman smiled at me again and stroked my hair.
"Well dear, when you were at home, you stabbed your mother with some scissors… did you mean to?" she seemed so kindly, but how could I answer the question? I was five! I hung my head, not knowing how to answer, but the woman seemed to understand. She unchained my arms and let me have a drink. I held the glass to my mouth, and then the headline of the newspaper caught my eye.
Young 5 year old child murdered mother of 2.
Young Jemima Hitachi, on the 2nd of November1883, brutally murdered her mother with a pair of blunt children's scissors. The young girl was taken to London to a rehabilitation village (see page 3) where she and her brother are currently under care until a suitable home if found. If you want to know more about the murder and the little girl, see page 2.
I picked it up and read the first few lines before I could read no more. I was only a child, how cold they portray me like that? Tears leaked out of my eyes and before I knew it, I couldn't stop crying.
After a few minutes, a finally found the strength to stop myself from crying and I managed to control myself. I drank the last of my lemonade and stared at the woman.
"Can I go outside and play?" I asked her, I assumed she would refuse after what happened. I was startled at her answer.
"Ok. I know you have been asleep for nearly three days. Go on, be a good girl and stay out of trouble," I smiled and giggled at her while she unlocked the chains that held my feel down, it tickled! After a few minutes of negotiating with the chains, I was free. I thanked her for the drink and bounded outside.
"Wait a minute!" the woman shouted at me. "My name is Erika!" I nodded, and then ran out the door.
As soon as I ran outside I felt like a total outsider. I was in rags and hand-me-downs. These kids were the top of the line! Garments of fresh silk and gems, I was pretty sure their headbands were made of crystals. I wandered aimlessly around, all my confidence lost in a second. Everyone went quiet. They knew about what I had done. One girl came up to me and kicked me in the shin, for some reason. I hadn't hurt her… yet. I sat down near the all of the hut I had woken in and began to mutter to myself. I had no idea what the words were, I just felt I had heard them somewhere.
This, my darling is the for leaf clover necklace. On it there is the Clover of courage, the Clover of love, the Clover of hope and the Clover of power. One day my darling, this shall be yours and you too will contribute to our war.
I muttered the words over and over again, trying to make sense of it all. Yet every time I said them, I was more and more frustrated; and I was only five! All around me I heard mutterings other than my rants. The other kids, of course, were plotting to exploit me. Of course. Eventually, after a few hours of mutterings and pointed glances, I couldn't take it anymore. I stomped outside and slapped one of the kids across the cheek, leaving a mark and kicked the other boys… well you know. My brother got in a rage after that, he'd never been the same after that.
Years passed me by, and I was almost eleven years old. That's when he came.
I was playing outside, again, with by brother. I was practicing gymnastics and Ralph was back flipping around the street. I watched him intently, taking in every small movement. I was fascinated with his ability; he was much more skilled than me. But my birthday was three days away; maybe he would teach me how to do that! But my obsession didn't last long. I heard a sudden rap at my cabin door and rushed to see who was there. A middle aged man with rich looking clothes stood at my doorway, smiling down at me. I'd often seen him at the mansion out village was on the outskirts from. I'd always assumed someone rich lived there.
"Excuse me little girl, would you kindly show me where your...ah...carer is? My name is Darcy Burroughs."