Heaven
By Tazarion Keels
Staring at the barrel of your gun, I know I should be afraid. But in all the chaos only one emotion courses through my veins. Relief. Because now I can look back at the slice of peace that led to this moment.
Nine months earlier I had woken up in heaven. Feeling the warmth of a body. My height was shorter. Most likely three feet. Then I saw you leaning in the doorway smiling. You were as beautiful as you had been before. Mornings were spent with you brushing my hair, dressing me for school, reading me bedtime stories and eating breakfast with your new husband. I wished you had treated your old relationship better. But I guess he could give you things your old one couldn’t.
I went through the photo albums of your life. The birth of two kids, your son and daughter. Your wedding day. I loved seeing you in that dress. Birthdays and anniversaries. Stereotypical family, perfect for meeting society’s standards. Gun nuts judging from the shotguns held in everyone’s hands in that one picture. It made sense because you were a family of hunters. Such a beautiful life. I was happy to be a part of it.
Anytime I wanted something, I just needed to say, “please mommy.” And you responded, “yes, honey.” All it took was just two little words and you did anything I wanted. I guess you loved to spoil your children, Nicole. And I loved the way you called me honey. Such affection.
I spent time with the family. I even played with baby Alex in the sand. I played with him during a family beach outing. When no one was around I buried him deep in the sand. After that I threw his pacifier in the ocean, which is where I told you he had crawled. You cried for months after that, but I just snuggled in your lap and told you, “please mommy, don’t cry.” I wiped away your tears. Your husband just kept drinking all the time. Why didn't he help you? He was a bad choice, if you ask me.
Then there was your sister Alice. Nice and sweet. Did you know that she was having an affair with her best friend? Why is no one ever loyal anymore? Why do they cheat? But those two women looked so sweet together when I caught them. Spying on them kinda reminded me of how things used to be. I even shed a tear when I shot them both in your sister's marital bed while they were sleeping. Her husband is a widower, but at least now those two are together in the afterlife.
Next your parents. I’ve never liked them. So uptight, old values and prejudice. After your sister's funeral they were getting suspicious. So many phone calls to you, so many condescending talks. As if they hadn’t been insufferable enough. I was already planning to cut them out of the equation. So I cut off their air by taking away their oxygen tanks when you dropped me off for a visit. No tears for them on my part.
You were left with me and your husband. He'd become more distant since Alex died—his only son. Even when we were staying at your family's cabin. He blamed me for it. Said it was all my fault when you both left me to play with Alex on the beach for a few minutes. That I was there when your sister was babysitting me and her “friend” Emily had visited. That it was strange that the bullets in their heads matched the ones from your sister's locked-away gun.
That weekend, I was left at your parents’ house while you went to marriage counseling, and your parents’ oxygen tank masks just happened to both slip off. How could a man’s little girl, his own flesh and blood, kill her baby brother, her aunt, and her grandparents? His own flesh and blood.
You left to clear your head and shoot birds while he watched me. He didn’t trust me with anything except the temperature. He said the heat wasn’t hot enough. And that’s what led us here. To you walking back to the cabin, seeing it all burned to the ground. Your husband was nowhere to be seen. Just me standing and crying. He was the one death where I could hold back a smile. I could see the horror on your face. You were probably thinking that maybe he was right about me. You slowly picked up the shotgun, aiming it at me with fear and heartbreak in your eyes.
You think it’ll be over after this, don’t you? That the culprit has been caught. But you couldn’t be more in the dark, as I wear the skin of your five-year-old daughter. This experience was my own heaven, but it has all been hell for you, right? I smile big using her mouth, laughing through the tears streaming from her eyes, extending her arms and saying the words that will dig a hole deeper into your heart: “Please, mommy.”