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I've been watching you. Do you remember me? I used to play with your daughter. I played with her, and watched you.
I was with her when she gave you her first drawing of me. By her wishes I was given a pretty pink dress to wear, and a crown atop my golden curls. I smiled as you hung my picture on the fridge. Your daughter was a wonderful artist.
While you shouted at him in the kitchen, I soothed her and stroked her hair. She was my girl, and I loved her when you didn't have the time.
I remember the empty bottles of whiskey that marked the day he left, and many days to follow. Often I would remind you that such habits were bad for your health, but you didn't listen to me. You never listened to me.
I was sitting with her when you gave her that glass of water. I remember that it smelled wrong. As she coughed and choked, betrayed and devoured by your poison, I was helpless. I watched you wait until you knew it was too late before driving her to the hospital. I was in the back of the car with her when she drew her final breath. Only I could see through your teary facade when they laid her in the ground.
So why do you look at me with such fear, why do you tremble? I am no stranger to this home. I've been with you all along, and I have awaited this moment for a very long time.
Your tears dampen the carpet. The rope came from the garage. It was a bit thin for its intended use, but it would be enough. A lady should be able to make due in a pinch, after all. One end adorns your neck. The other is tied to the ceiling fan. You could be whispering your prayers, but you're not that hopeful. With the flip of a switch it whirs to life, and the rope tightens. It doesnt lift you, but rather forces you to crane your neck and stare at the whirling blades above as you gasp for air. Your bulging eyes meet mine one last time and with a voice of destitute you gasp, barely audibly, "Why..."
I smile. You hang. Justice tastes sweeter than I ever dreamed it would. Sweeter yet, knowing you did it to yourself.