Kitty O'Connor Was Here

April 27, 2009
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Ever since I was little I never felt like I belonged. When I was born my mother didn’t want me, and I never knew my father. I was born in Dublin, Ireland, in the heart of this dirty and cold city. Smoke everywhere, filling up my lungs. The rain pouring everyday, I wish I could be the rain. Easy and nothing to worry about. Not needing to care about what I wear, who I want to become and who I have become. The rain is the way I can find my peace; I can daydream to no limit, not letting anyone tell me what’s wrong and what’s right. I don’t like who I am, I wish I were someone else, a different face, not this mask I have to use everyday. I am Kitty O’Connor and this is my story.

I can remember that day, so very clearly when I met Heather-May. She was everything I was not, everything I wished I were. I, Kitty O’Connor, wanted to be Heather-May. I would lie, to make myself better, to be accepted. Heather-May was good at everything. Beautiful, smart and talented. Oh, how I envy her! Years have passed, and we are still friends. All this time I hated Heather-May for being perfect, but I still wanted to be friends, to be in the crowd. She was my pass to all the gossip, friends and happiness. These past few years I have had to find what I want to make myself happy. I tried different style and attitudes. Pretending to be someone I’m not, but don’t we all do that? Well, Heather-May knows who she is and gets a wonderful life. Why can’t I be like her?
I’ve tried to make Heather-May hate me, so I could make new friends, which aren’t more Heather-Mays. I lie to Heather-May, and I try to hate her. I was successful at one point. I had two new best friends who were also Heather-May haters. They saw all the bad things about Heather-May; she wasn’t the perfect face I thought she was. They made me feel better about myself, but I still tried to be friends with Heather-May. I could tell in her solid blue eyes that she couldn’t stand to even talk to me. I felt disappointed, but I tried not to care. I hated Heather-May; I wanted to hate Heather-May. I tried hating, ignoring her, gossiping about untrue secrets about Heather-May, but I was still jealous of her. So very much. My friends very soon betrayed me, and had enough of Kitty. They made me feel unwanted, I felt I got hit by a bus; my heart was an endless pit of darkness. My anger and mood swings kept my mother away. I started hating my mother so, so very much because of my madness. No one could understand, tear after tear, pain and more pain. Crying myself to sleep, ripping my golden brown hair. Screaming, cutting myself, wanting to die. I would wear a fake bravado everyday to school, hoping my old friends might accept me again.

I am lonely, my soul is lost, and who am I? Life does not satisfy me, I want more, I want to be happy. Eating helps me a lot. Eating keeps me distracted; I eat and eat. It makes me satisfied. I have gotten into the habit of eating junk food, with candy, chips and sodas. I have started gaining weight. I stare at myself in the mirror, bags under my eyes from no sleep, gaining more weight every week, crying and screaming at myself. I hate myself; just take me from the world and my life. My birth was a mistake; I was never supposed to be born.

I have been planning this for a long time. Waiting, being to scared to do the deed, but never accomplishing it. This was the time. Planned out so perfectly, I could probably do it with my eyes closed. Preparing and practicing for so long, nothing could stop me. She was in the way, she had to go, and this has been going on for too long. I, Kitty O’Connor, am going to kill Heather-May.

It was a cold and rainy winter when I was going to accomplish my goal. Oh poor little Heather-May, so naïve and clueless about what is going to happen to her in the next twenty-four hours. Heather-May isn’t perfect after all is she? Her little fantasy world is now going to be a nightmare of hell. My knife was already placed carefully in my backpack. I paced around my room getting second thoughts, becoming shaky and beads of sweat dripping down my pale face. No, no, no! I was not going to back down, not now, all the damage has been done, and it’s time to get even. Heather-May needs to know my pain and suffering.

Later that night I went out into the rainy weather walking to Heather-May’s house, clutching my knife as hard as I could, almost cutting my fingers by my tight grasp of the knife. Her house was perfect; white, with a gray roof and a red door. Perfectly mown grass with a pot of daises next to the tomato red door. Just as I remembered when I was little. The car wasn’t in the driveway, so Heather-May was all alone. Perfect. All the lights were off; Heather-May must be asleep. When we were younger I would come over all the time, I practically lived here. Heather-May gave me my own personal key to the house, and she told me to come over anytime I wanted. I pulled the key out of my backpack, and opened the door very carefully. I know exactly where Heather-May’s room was, three doors down the hallway on the left. With my flashlight turned facedown, I flashed a beam of light on the floor to guide my way. Holding the doorknob to Heather-May’s room, it was so cold; I opened it. Her room was dark, but she had a blue lava lamp on. Heather-May was fast asleep, so peaceful, that innocent face. I pulled my knife from my bag; then dropped it on the floor very lightly. Not taking my eyes off Heather-May, I wanted to make sure she didn’t wake up. I crept closer towards her, with my knife in my hand. I slashed the knife towards her stomach; she immediately woke up, with her big blue eyes about to pop out of their sockets. She shrieked, but I didn’t give her enough time to do anything else. She couldn’t see my face. I stabbed her twice in the heart and slashed her across the neck. I killed her; I, Kitty O’Connor, killed Heather-May. She just lied there; limp, her eyes blood shot, and blood coming out of her stomach and mouth.
I did not feel remorse nor was I ashamed of the murder I committed. The only way I could feel happiness was if Heather-May was out of the way; she had to be killed. She knew me too well, more than others, and for that reason she had to be killed also. Heather-May was gone forever. I put my diary in her hand, and written inside was everything that had happened, all the clues and evidence the police needed. My clothes and hands were soaked with blood. All my worries were gone; I was successful and had accomplished my goal. On one of the walls in Heater-May’s room were pictures of her and her family and friends. I viciously grabbed the pictures and threw them around the room, sending shards of glass all over the floor. With my knife, I carved into the wall, “Kitty O’Connor Was Here”.

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