A Short Story: He Had It Coming

I have never thought of myself as a killer. 

Blood made me queasy, and I even failed college biology because I wouldn’t dissect the frog for the assignment. I clearly remember running from the lab to go empty my guts. I didn’t make it to the bathroom or trashcan in time. 

Not only that, but I was shunned from labs for an entire semester and could only do theoretical projects, which I also failed. 

So when the neighbor came over to pull me off my brother’s corpse, I cried, telling them it wasn’t me. 

I could have never done something like that. Even now, my body was shaking at the thought of whichever monster could have lured me there to frame me. 

My brother was a good person; he was occasionally mean and would hit me. But isn’t that what all families are like? 

No? Well, you must have had a different kind of family then. In my household, there were bruises on everyone. Yes, even my doctor knew about it, but what could they do? None of them were willing to put their career on the line to make the pain stop. So we learned to live with it. 

As I said, I couldn’t have done it. Oh, these scratches? Those must have come from our fight the night before. He tried to stop me from leaving the house, but I had a date for the first time in years. 

You can’t imagine how excited I was to have one of my old friends back in town. I hadn’t seen Samantha in years, and she even asked me on a date. So, I said yes. 

But my brother was against it when I finally told him where I was going. He threatened to use the branding tool our dad used to punish us when he was still alive. 

Oh? That’s not in your report; that’s weird. Didn’t the doctor tell you how I got the scars on my hands and feet?

It’s a fascinating story; when our mom heard our screams for the first time, she would turn away. I thought she was a cold woman until I saw her scars. She was just like us. “One of the herd.” That’s what my father used to say about being the good shepherd for our family. 

Forgive me; I tend to ramble when I talk. No, I did not have any trauma from my childhood. 

Believe me, detective, I want to help you catch the criminal as much as anyone. My poor brother was stabbed to death. 

No, I don’t usually cry over things like death. My mother taught us that when she killed our dad. 

Oh? That’s not what your investigation says. No worries, this town has its own way of caring for those who harm us. You should ask your supervisor about the case, they’ll tell you that he committed suicide, but it was our mom that pushed him off that bridge. 

She let us watch her do it. You would never believe what she said afterward. “The fucker had it coming.” 

Oh, sorry. I am rambling again. 

No, I definitely didn’t do it. I could not even stand the sight of my own blood flowing down the sink on my ritual cuttings. There is no way I could have done something like that. 

What? Are ritual cuttings, not a thing? Impossible; we all did them in my family. Next, you will tell me you did not get buried when you misbehaved. 

Detective, you should focus more on finding my brother’s killer instead of talking ill about my family. They were all good people. 

No, I do not know anything about the bodies in my backyard. How could I? I was not allowed in the backyard except for punishment.

You are beginning to insult my good nature; I have done nothing but answer your questions with honest replies. 

Thank you for believing me, detective. I am an honest person. Do you perhaps have a place where I can shower?

They only gave me a blanket when they ushered me into the interrogation room, and I wanted to wash all the dirt off me before it ruined my skirt. 

It looks a bit red, but I think that’s from kneeling over the corpse for so long. I couldn’t bring myself to look away. 

Not saying I like blood at all, but my mother would have said the same thing as she did when my father died. 

“He had it coming.”

Maybe she was a cold woman, after all. 

No, I don’t remember where I put any of the knives. 

Is that all, detective? Good. I was starting to grow suspicious that you believed I was a monster. I’m glad I can go back home now and rest. 

Thank you, have a good night as well.