The girl was wearing a sundress. It's light skirt flowed out above her knees showing off her toned legs. She was a beautiful child. Her hair was the color of raspberries and was tied in plaits. It was decorated with little beads. Her shoes were not anything a kid would wear. They were slightly-heeled and extremely thin. Her bracelets matched her ivory skin perfectly.

I've never been afraid of 'monsters' per-say. I do believe they exist, I just don't think they are furry and live under my bed and in my closet. You see, I knew a monster once. In fact, I loved him. He played baseball with me, and he spoiled me with lots of gifts. He had deep brown eyes, and a smile nearly identical to my own. I thanked God for my very own monster, every night. My monster didn't have sharp talons. The only thing sharp about him was the knife that made this gash. One day after coming home from school mom had a migraine so she was sleeping, he has me the knife but I didn't want it. I told him about how I told him that one of my friends called him fake, but I thought otherwise. 

I placed the knife on the coffee table because I didn't and then we started to play tag. running around the house like I did I feel on something probably my own foot and it hit the table and the knife cut my stomach under my ribs. It wasn't deep but it was there, it left a little scar, I was a good little girl so I didn't go to my mom I but a bandage on it and I went on with my day. But my monster didn't want the knife back because it hurt me, so he left the knife but he left. My monster didn't want me anymore because I got hurt so he left, that's what I think. Ever since that day, I didn't see him. Now that I'm older I knew something strange happened to actually cause of this scar but I know the truth. 

Years later after he left I found the knife again, and I buried it in the backyard, but then when I was older I had a little sister Angie, she was the best little sister. Somehow she found the knife, the knife that I buried, the knife that my monster gave me. I saw her,  I saw her digging in the dirt, I didn't know why though so I ignored her and I went to my room. The next thing I knew the ambulance came to the house and the cops were talking to me and mom. 

I killed Angie.... I killed my sister... I killed my baby sister... My imagination killed my sister... I was such a bad person... I didn't tell mom about the knife, I never told anyone.... I'm a bad person for keeping that secret... 

As a teenager, I blocked out that memory, and mom never talked about her, not even a small mention. I guess because of me mom didn't grieve properly,  She did always have to take care of me, I guess we bot tried to block those memories. I'm a killer, there's no dought about it, maybe I have to do what she says. I'm so sorry Angie...