Good Night


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4. What Happened

Yes. Finally. At last. The event that I have  been referring to throughout the first three chapters is here. It might not fulfill your expectations. It might disappoint. After all that build up, well, it would be hard to deliver.

On the other hand, it might be exactly what you expected.

 

Or even worse than anything you could have imagined.

 

Sophie was coming home from school one day, skipping along down the street, with Hannah following slowly behind. The reason why Hannah wasn't walking alongside Sophie as usual was two-fold:

1. Hannah had seen Sophie being praised today by the teacher. Her story, which had been entered along with Hannah's in a competition, had won a prize, and at assembly that week, Sophie was to be applauded and presented with the prize. Of course, this shouldn't really mean that much, except that Hannah had worked on this particular story for weeks, and that Hannah had  put her very heart and soul into it, and that Hannah had really wanted to win this prize. Sophie however, had said with a little laugh, that she didn't need the prize or the praise. Hannah felt that this was extremely unfair considering the circumstances.

2. Hannah's parents, the night before, had had a fight, and at the very height of it, Hannah's mother had pointed at her and shouted 'Why are you such a useless child?! Why can't you be more like Sophie is?! It's your fault I have to put up with all this crap! You pathetic child', and stormed out of the room. Hannah, naturally, had been very scared, and more importantly, very angry.

 

As these thoughts idled in Hannah's mind, Sophie had skipped all the way to Mrs. Brown's porch, and was chatting amiably with the little old lady herself, who was in her garden pruning her rose bushes. Hannah observed how Mrs. Brown was clipping the twigs and buds with large, sharp, gleaming shears, and she saw how close Sophie was. Hannah saw how frail and weak Mrs. Brown was, and how eager Sophie seemed to help the old woman prune her roses.

So Hannah thought; why not?

It's not very fair, after all, for one person to have all the luck, is it now?

As Mrs. Brown handed the shears over to the delightfully helpful little girl from down the street, the other, plainer little girl sidled up behind. As Mrs. Brown leaned down, laughing, to pick up a stray rose Sophie, who was apologising somberly, had accidentally chopped off, Hannah gave a little push.

And the very sharp shears, open to slice the next stalk of greenery, ate instead the thin, veined neck of Mrs. Brown.

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