I stared. It was all I could do. Stare. I was plastered to the spot, a fly in a web, just waiting to by caught. "RUN!" I screamed internally but to no avail. I was frozen, just staring, just looking. My body had gone numb, yet my mind was in overdrive. "RUN! RUN. run." It was all I could think, but nothing was happening, I couldn't bear to comprehend what I was looking at, but I had to.
It was a girl. Just a girl. So what had I to fear? It was her stillness. She was so quiet, so still. Deathly still. Neither a pulse nor a breath. Her blanket was the color of blood. Or was it white? It was. Stained by the girl's own blood. Tainted by her innocence. And she was dead.
I had not done this... How could I? Oh, but I did. For I had seen myself do it. Taking the knife. Ending the young child's life. But I was only an onlooker. It was not me, yet it was.
I heard her scream. I had felt the effort of driving the knife into her frail little body. But I did not do it, I only watched. I watched as her life ebbed away. I laughed as she gave her final breath. But it was not I who was laughing. I did not commit the crime.
But the knife is in my hand. I am covered in her blood. But it truly was not I. It was someone else. Or was it?
I look down at her lifeless corpse. Her Raven black hair soaked in her own blood. Her eyes forever unseeing. Her body forever unmoving. Her small voice forever silenced by my blade.

A mother can not kill her child...


...Or could she?