Deadly Devotion

Chapter Two

Katharine's journey to insanity.

Born December 25, 1904 my family thought I was a gift, that was before they ruined me.

•••

"Katharine! Katharine!" I heard a bottle smash onto the ground, I could almost feel the glass of it shatter, like the bottle was thrown at me. Probably because a lot of bottles were thrown at me.

I quickly got off my wooden rocking chair and walked slowly down the creeking steps fiddling with the pins in my blonde hair.

As I reach the last step I looked to my left to see my drunk Father looking at me with cold eyes. A thirteen year old should never see their Father smelling like whiskey and regret as often as I did.

"Where's Ma." He said to me walking slowly toward me. If I knew better I would have ran at that very moment. I would have ran into the wooded area around our homestead, and never looked back.

I would find my way to the city and start a new life. There I could continue drawing as well. Mama always told me not to draw, because of what I drew. My drawings tended to be of those suffering, or just some sort of pain. I didn't listen to her though I kept drawing. I drew everyday, and hid the drawings in my jewlery box. I don't even rember drawing most of them my mind tends to just tell my hand what to do, I don't even really look at the paper when I draw.

"I- I don't know." I knew where she was but he didn't need to know until he sobered up, sadly he knew I was lying.

The whiskey bottle in his hand was quickly throwen into my face, alcohol burned in my eyes and the glass of the bottle cracked on impact with my face, and left deep glass cuts.

"You were always a lying little bitch." Those words stung so bad, and I responsed to him with tears. I tired to run away but he grabbed me by the arm, and pushed my small but sturdy frame against the nearest wall. He then pushed him self against me and put his mouth almost over my ear.

"Now, where is she." His breath was moist.

"The b-barn." Thats still not where she was but I thought that would buy me some time before he got back to me. He pushed me hard, back against the wall and pushed away from me hastily wobbling towards the screen door.

I ran up the stairs holding my heavy dress and went back into my room locking the small door behind me. I then got out a pen and paper.

10minutes went past and my hand was done moving. The things I had just drew included a butcher knife, fire, whiskey, and a huge stone looking building. Without questioning the pecquiliar drawings I put it with all my other hidden drawings, as the screen door swung open with a bang.

"Kathrine your going to get it this time!"

Soon my fathers booming voice and foot steps made it all the way to outside my bedroom door. He shock the handle until finally coming to the conclusion the door was locked and knocked it down with a hard kick.

My basturd excuse of a Father was now towering over me.

"Why did you tell me your mother was in the barn?" His eyes were black and cold.

"Thats where I thought she was."

My lying had improved drasticly over the last few months, trying to cover all my bruises at school was hard, while trying to hide the fact that I didn't sleep was even harder.

My Father now grabbed my arm and twisted it.

''I'm going to have to teach you a lesson about lying."

At that very moment I thought I would get hit harder that I ever got hit in my life. Only if thats what he was going to do, it would have been a lot damn better than what he did.

He pushed me ruthlessly onto the bed and my shoulder cracked as it hit the head board. He pushed him self on top of me.

"Father no, please." My eyes were full of tears.

He didn't say anything, nothing at all. He just smirked at me with a devilish look, and pinned me down. I was strong but not strong enough to push him off of me. That was the scariest moment of the whole expirence, the antisipation, knowing I would be r***d, that was horfifiying.

I didn't even scream, I was past screaming. My father ripped my heavy tattered farm dress up, and pinned me to the matress even harder, that is when I blacked out.

...

I layed in bed for days after that with only the odd glass of water my mother brought me. My Father was out on a drinking binge and had been gone for days.

I heard a slight creek as my mother walked into the room with a tray of food.

"It's time to eat," her voice was full of happiness. Her daughter had got r***d by her husband just two days before and she appeared satisfied.

"Get the f**k out of my room." I said my voice was shaky, but tough.

"He only did it because he was drunk, he loves you."

"Maybe he loves me to much, I mean he did-" My mother cut me off quickly.

"Damn it katharine, he went to church to pray for forgivness right after! That’s the best he can do, you need to stay in this room and forgive him, he is the bread winner in this family you would starve and have no shelter without him."

"Just, fine what ever I will forgive him." I whispered slowly.

My phsycotic mother gave me a nod of approval and left my room closing the re-hinged door.

What was I going to do in my room for another week?

Then I reached under my bed for my pen and paper. I rolled off my bed, still in pain from the r**e even though it was days ago and wrote at the top of the thin paper “Murder Plan”.

I was done with the abuse and I would get my revenge.

...

Five days, it tooke five days to come up with my first plan to kill my Father. I thought of every detail, I thought of when my Ma goes to the Store in the afternoon on Friday, so I knew I had to do it then.

That worked out perfectly since my Father would be inbetween drinking at that time, he always took Thursday and Friday off his alcoholic ways. After work on those days he didn't go drinking he came straight home. Even though I hated him everyday, I felt relief on Thursday and Friday.

Even though he was abusive when sober, he wasn't as bad and those two days a week were the only time that I felt some what secure, and the only days that my drawings were some what normal.

My plan was to walk up behind him while he was listening to the sterio set in the parlor. I would walk up right behind him, stab him in the back, slit his throat, and live happily without him. Then it would be to take care of my Ma. She basicly supported him raping me, so she would die too. I would set the barn on fire. She went directly there after she went to the store, that would be my one and only chance to finally be safe and I knew that if something went wrong my Father would easily kill me.

I Tried the Murder Plan

when I was finally let out of my room on Friday. Which worked perfectly, I would finally kill my parents. Not many kids say things like that, do they? I had everything In place as soon as I was let out of my room I went to the barn to do some chores.

But I was really hiding gasoline and matches under the haystack where I could grab them quickly and light it on fire. I also set all the cattle to pasture because they deserved better than to be burnt,only the devil should burn.

When I reached the house from chores I entered the kitchen and no one was near. I pulled up my dress, and taped the huge butched knife to my thigh, and then dropped my dress over my legs again.

12:50 the clock read, it looked like my Mother had once again only cooked for Father and herself and headed to town early.

I quickly ate a piece of bread and headed back to my room to go over my plan, just once more.

It turned out my Mother hadn't gone to town early she was standing in my room with my jewelry box wide open. Her jaw was on the floor, as she had the murder plan and my most disturbing drawings in hand.

...

January 20, 1918 at the age of thirteen I was sent to the big city, by my family. I finally got my dream to be in the city. It was just unforntunate I was there at the Instatute for the Criminally Insane to be treated, and tortured.