I had always been obsessed with perfection. I didn’t have Atelophobia, but I enjoyed the idea of being a nonpareil. I didn’t have to be the best, but since I was so obsessed with being perfect, I usually was. From having my pillows perfectly centered on my bed when I was a little girl (and even now) to getting outstanding marks on my report card, I never really “outgrew” it, because here I was, at twenty-nine, with eleven children.

I wasn’t a teenage mother, nor did I have multiple births. Four of them I didn’t even carry myself; I had surrogate mothers. There was no way that my body could handle all of those children, not that I would even want to. My first child, Carson, had the cutest dimples I had ever seen. Around the age of seven, he developed anger issues, which was not a trait that I wanted for my ideal child. So, naturally, I got rid of him. It wasn’t an easy task. It took my emotions on a roller coaster ride, switching frequently between maternal instincts and greed, but I got it done.

I decided to be a little more careful with my next, a little girl who I called Bailey. The male I had intercourse with was thoughtfully—and monotonously, if I may add—chosen from a stack of other eligible male suitors. He had the genes that I wanted for her that Carson didn’t have: blue eyes, auburn curls, and of course, the dimples. I raised her to be good natured, which she was, until she turned two, entering the stage which is appropriately the named “The Terrible Twos.” She began to have a craving for pickles, which I despised with a burning passion. So, like Carson, I got rid of her.

I found a genetic engineer, Brent, who would help me accomplish my goal. He seemed more than happy to help me eradicate my children and help me create new and improved ones. Child five and his successors possessed all the qualities that I desired, but they all seemed to pick up temperaments that I didn’t enjoy on the way. That is, until child number twelve.

Meredith was the spitting image of Bailey, and all of the other girls before her. Brent and I perfected the appearance that I had strived for. It took the genes of many attractive men, but it was well worth it. Getting the disposition and the personality right were trickier. Brent had somehow managed to give her artistic abilities, the memory of a super-genius, and the food tastes I wanted her to have, but the rest was up to me. I read shelves of books and studied online forums about parenting, not to mention having had eleven previous experiences raising children, so Meredith was basically the perfect outcome of that.

As Meredith grew older, the confidence that I had in raising children slowly faded away. It wasn’t that I doubted my parental abilities, because Meredith was exceeding my high expectations, but the uncertainty of it all. None of my previous children had survived for this long to reach their teenage years. These years, I’d heard, would set the path for the rest of their lives. The amount of apprehension I felt every day of something going not according to plan was unbelievable. I had invested too much time and energy into Meredith, and to have to throw it all away would’ve been a shame.

Meredith was seventeen now, an almost high school graduate. In a few more months, I’ll have successfully completed something that I’ve worked on for basically half of my life. I found that the key to parenting a teenager was to treat them as an equal, not a small and naïve child. I disciplined her, of course, but it was rare when I did. She never did anything that would require me to do so. I encouraged her to participate in a variety of extra-curricular activities, but forbade the distraction of boys. I was supportive of the small infractions and mistakes; she could learn from them. But heartbreak was something that I would protect her from, as it was preventable. Had my own parents protected me from such emotional trauma, I might have become the CEO of a large and successful corporation.

I tiptoed through the house, shutting the front door quietly behind me so Meredith wouldn’t hear me come in. Expecting the house to be filled with sounds of her violin piece, I was, to say the least, utterly shocked when I heard the sound of teenage giggling ricochet down my hallway. Such actions were arbitrary for her personality.

“Stop it, Dane. It’s not funny!” Meredith’s voice rang out. I made a dash towards her room.

“You know you love it, Mere.” It was too deep to belong to a girl’s, which only meant one thing; the one thing that I had dreaded.

I pushed open the door and stormed in, planting my hands firmly on my hips. I analyzed the scene laid out before me. Meredith was sitting on her bed, her laptop lying casually out by her feet. Beside her was a boy, Dane, who had Meredith’s curls in his hands. He was in the process of braiding them, or rather, attempting to. A second passed by and Meredith’s jaw was open, her eyes in complete shock. Dane looked terrified. After sending a brief look of disapproval to my daughter, I stared venomously at Dane, who scrambled up and ran away, tripping over his feet several times.

“Mom…”

It was all gone. Seventeen years of perfection, wasted. I had learned to love Meredith, become attached to her more than any of my past children, but I knew that she had been tainted. Hope sparked. Perhaps I could undo the damage and save her. “How long has this been going on?”

“Since the beginning of the summer,” she murmured, avoiding the bitter discontent in my eyes.

I heaved a sigh, wondering how I had been so unaware. “I’m disappointed, but I suppose we can all get past this—”

She sensed what I wanted her to do. “I love him.” Her reply was simple, but the meaning was loud and clear. This time, she did look into my eyes, and into my soul. I could see the genuineness, which only confirmed what I needed to do. It wasn’t the love that I would want for her to someday experience. It was inevitable heartbreak, and I was too late to save her from it.

I knew what I needed to do.

***

Brent and I had built a lab in the middle of nowhere, far from any place I had lived to avoid any suspicion that might arise. I told Meredith that we were going on a spontaneous. Meredith was slightly confused at first, but went along with it. After the whole Dane incident, she didn’t dare push my limit. The plan needed to be executed more carefully than the past ones. Meredith had a social life, and apparently, a love. People were going to miss her.

I shuffled Meredith into the same room Brent was in, where he was preparing the next child. I locked the door behind me so Meredith couldn’t escape, that is to say, if she figured out what her fate was going to be like. “It’s time,” Brent said, handing me a shiny, loaded gun with a silencer.

I took it shakily. “You’re not nervous, are you?” It seemed almost as if he was taunting me, but I could see the glint of concern in his eyes.

I sucked in a breath. “I haven’t done this in a while.”

He gave a long whistle. “Seventeen years. If you want, I’ll do it.”

I shook my head firmly. “I need to do this.”

Meredith stood looking at the paintings that hung on the wall, completely oblivious of her approaching death. As she stood there, I noticed the flaws that I had been overlooking. Now, they jumped out at me, as if screaming for me to pull the trigger even faster. The way she shifted her weight from foot made my muscles contract. Her fingertips drummed against her leg in a dreadful rhythm. Tap. Tap. Tap. I tightened my grip on the gun.

I glanced back at Brent, who gave me an encouraging head nod and a small smile. His past words echoed in my mind. “You deserve only perfect, Elizabeth. You shouldn’t stop until you reach that: perfection.” He made it seem so easy, but the vision was there. Just one more time and I could get everything just right. I’d cancel out one factor, boys, and it would be complete. I would never have to deal with an imperfect detail in my life again. I aimed the gun at her.

But suddenly, the memories of her childhood came into view. All of the firsts, our little mommy-daughter bonding moments. I couldn’t do it…I couldn’t just annihilate her like that. She was more than flesh and blood; she was family.

I turned the other way, pointing the gun at Brent for even suggesting that I kill her. But my lifelong dream of perfection came into mind. It was so dazzlingly blinding. It was beautiful. I could practically taste the sweet victory…it was so close…just a graze away…The fluorescent light from the lamps hanging above glared down as I swiveled between Meredith and Brent.

Tap. Tap. Just the sound of it made me cringe. I pointed the gun at Meredith.

The amusement that shone in her laugh. I directed it towards Brent.

Tap. Tap. Meredith. Perfection. Brent. Meredith. Brent. It was like a game of spin the bottle, constant movements, until it simply stopped. It was switching between Meredith and Brent; who would live and who would die. Brent or Meredith. Brent. Meredith. Brent. Meredith.

I shot.