If Looks Could Kill

Ok, so before you go running off to your friends and family, screaming hysterically, "Charlie has a knife! Run for your life!" (Hey that rhymes). Just remember that this chapter is titled, and I quote myself, "though I have no idea how I did it." Because I really didn't have a clue how I murdered someone. I kinda wished it was all heroic and assassin-y. Yes I am aware that's not a word before you all go grammar Nazi on me.

The most fascinating thing was that, it wasn't my first kill. It just made me realize what my first kill actually was.

I was only five but I already had a temper bigger then Tony Stark's ego. I didn't even realize I had done it until I made my second kill.

That second kill, that was how I discovered what I really was. Trust me, you don't wanna be me. It's kinda unfair sometimes. I have killed people and things that I never wanted to kill. But it just happens.

But before we get to the adventures and what not, all the actual heroic stuff. Well I at least tried to be heroic. We have to start with the day I made my second kill.

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I wonder how I can stop Jayda's big fashion, no, no? I mean seriously, NO ONE on this planet should ever wear that disgraceful outfit! (Yes that was the question that started my new life) I was supposed to be focusing on the Biology teacher in front of me but who cares about what DNA strands connect to what sugars and I am pretty sure she said something about rubbish trucks.

Anyway like I said, I was supposed to be listening but instead I was wondering about Jayda's outfit. I was lost in how I could hint at her that her outfit sucked when the biology teacher called on me.

"Charlie. Answer the question." She says sternly. Her old wrinkles stare at me, almost as if they're alive. I can almost see the headlines already, "Student killed by bio teacher's wrinkles." Wouldn't be fun if you asked me.

"Umm, Mrs Davis, could you please repeat the question, I didn't quite get it." I say smoothly. I've always had a knack for getting people to listen me. The crazy old woman rolls her eyes at me but does what I asked.

"Charlie, What are the pairings between A, C, T and G?" She repeats what I'd not been listening too. All eyes in the class turn onto me and I don't know the answer.

"Umm," I start off, very in-confidently, "Well A and G, they..." I start before I get cut off by the teacher from hell.

"No, Miss Park, do you even pay attention in this class?" She asks me and I honestly just shrug my shoulders.

Her beady, little, black eyes of doom stare at me through the horn-rimmed glassws she wears. "Miss Park," She starts. Her voice is clam but I can already see her inner temperature rising to above boiling point. And considering that I'm her centre of attention at the moment, that's most definitely not a good thing. "Answer me question. With. An. Answer." She spits out. I'm so glad I'm not sitting in the front row at the moment because I could've sworn I seen spit fly out of her mouth and onto the other students desks.

"I don't care about Biology." I say truthfully. Her eyes widen and her mouth puckers like a cat's bum. (Yes I just compared my Bio teacher to a cat's bum. Deal with it)

"Oh god, just shut her up now." I mutter to myself. I look down at the scribbles on my book and realize that I have actually drew something. Now that is an achievement for me because I couldn't draw to save myself. I see a perfect image of an old woman (who looks suspiciously like Mrs. Davis) lying on the ground pooled in blood.

I look up mentally preparing myself for the worst possible thing ever. And I stare into Mrs. Davis' eyes almost as of I'm challenging her to speak out. Suddenly her eyes roll into the back of her head and her neck tips backwards. A strangled cry rips from her throat as her hands shoot up to her throat as blood begins to pour from her mouth and nose.

Kids around me begin to scream. Some just sit there in shock. One kid who I know is a volunteer junior firefighter runs up to help her. I guess they learn CPR or something. But then there's me. I'm just sitting there. Not in shock. Not in fear. But to be completely honest, I'm happy. I'm glad.

Then it hits me. The picture of her on the ground bleeding. My death wish on her. My death glare.

I killed her.

Oh god something is very wrong with me. Why do I think I killed her? How do I know she's dead? Is my make-up running? Wait, why did I think that? My teacher is dead?!

Well ditch the "Student killed by bio teacher's wrinkles." I'm pretty sure the headlines are going to be, "Bio hating student, murders teacher without touching her." Or, "Witchcraft is not studied in schools for a reason."

I hazily get out if my chair. I can see stars and the world is going fuzzy. I stumble out of the door, knowing nothing. Just knowing that I need to get out.

I run into the girls bathroom as I hear the faint sounds of the ambulance and police arriving. My head spins and black begins to take over. I lock myself in a stall and I hear a faint, beautiful voice as soft as cotton and as sweet as sugar say something but I was too tired to take notice of it, "Well done my daughter." It says as I promptly pass out.

Notes

So my new story!

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Chelsea_Delos