The Embodiment of Evil

Oh you, who so well know the nature of my soul, must reconsider the weight of my deed...
‘You do not love me!’ I hollered.
‘Margot, you know that is not true,’ retorted my mother, Edith.
My blood began to boil as Rose’s whimpers heightened the tension. I paced back and forth in the heated atmosphere of the kitchen, trying to cool down.
‘Darling, as your father, I believe that your mother loves you both equally,’ Sir Fitzwilliam floundered.
‘That is not true! Who gets the most attention? Who do you always praise? It is always Rose! Also, you are not my father! The flesh and blood of you and your daughter is NOT a part of this family!’ I hissed.
‘I think that’s enough, young lady,’ Edith bellowed.
Fitzwilliam was in utter shock. I sneered as I heard Rose choke back her tears. My hatred towards her was beyond repair.

I imprisoned myself in my stifling chamber. As the hours ticked by, my memories flashed back to after Father died of cancer, when the wealthy Sir Fitzwilliam and his young daughter Rose charmed my gullible mother. Once they married, my life instantly turned upside down. Before I could blink, Rose had cast a spell on Mother, making her diminish any mere thought of her beloved blood-daughter Margot. She treasured Rose like a newly-wrapped present. She was her prized possession. I had been replaced. Oh, if you saw the way she embraced Rose, you would see why my heart crumbled to pieces. Alas! I did not hesitate. Revenge was calling for me!
In the silent night, I plotted in delight. In the light of day, I pretended to love Rose in a deceptive way. I ignored the ignorant Edith, who had broken my heart and ‘sincerely’ glanced at Fitzwilliam to maintain his ‘trust’. I smiled at the awe-struck Rose every morning and greeted her cheerfully. To show that I wasn’t playing a phony role, I ‘apologised’ to her and stated that I was only furious at Mother. You must accept that my cunning acts were NOT sinful, but were only used to get rid of any sanction of suspicion.
Every night, I stealthily crept towards her room like an eerie black shadow infiltrating a streak of light. Her soft sniffles and snores drove me mad, but they built my bravery to perform the deed. However, I decided that she had to be awake. I wanted her to suffer, just like I did when she heartily confided with my mother about her never-ending list of suitors. Every night, when I saw her sprawled across the bed, I had a raging urge to lunge forward and penetrate her soul, but then the helpless memories of me eavesdropping on their loving conversations made me strong. For three nights, I watched her sleep, till on the fourth night, she woke up with a start, gasping for breath. My heart stopped. I carefully crouched on the floor, daring not to make a sound. ‘That will be your last nightmare,’ I thought deviously.
I crouched down in the gloom for a long while, listening to the rhythmic drumming of her heart. She was wide awake, still hyperventilating from her surely frightening incubus. Suddenly, I couldn’t take it anymore. Her hour had come! I swiftly shot up and our eyes locked. She was half-relieved and half-terrified. I poised the poisonous blade of my lethal dagger, like a witch would hold her sceptre. The dagger gleamed in the moonlight as I subconsciously began to whet it. With courage pumping the blood in my veins, I inched forward, pointing the tip of the blade to her quivering throat. She widened her cat-like eyes, too shocked to utter a word.
‘Dearest Rose, where is Mother to soothe and defend you now?’ I cackled wickedly.
‘Why are you doing this? Margot...I love you as my sister and I never wanted to take your mother away from you,’ she managed to whisper.
‘Fool! Do you think you can outsmart me? The thorns in hell await you, Rose...’ I mocked.
Before I could blink, I was cruelly edging the dagger through her tender flesh, slyly grinning as I did so. She was choking in a pool of crimson blood, destroying her perfect bed-sheets. Her death was slow, which greatly amused me. I disposed of her body in Christmas wrapping paper and as cautious as a cat, I sneaked towards the kitchen and dumped the parcel on the table. ‘A surprise for Mother to despise,’ I chuckled.
Now, dear Lord, now that you have heard my story, am I still guilty? I think not, because I gave my mother a present that she can treasure forever...