A/N: I love the Lizzie Borden story so I decided to incorporate it into this... Hope you enjoy!681Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZyHMHeieNi
It was dark and quiet. My stepmother and father were home. I let the blade of the axe drag against the wooden floor. It made a scraping sound and the voices in my head cried out with joy whenever the scrrriiiitttcchhhh of the metal sounded. The voices had been whispering at me to kill them for a week now. I'd finally given in, after all, they did deserve it. The voices had told me to chop them into little pieces, and I agreed. My stepmother was in the next room. I stopped dragging the axe on the floor and instead held it up with both hands to add extra thrust behind the blows I would deliver into her head. She spun around and began to say my name, but stopped. I swung and struck her temple. She crumpled to the ground and I continued swinging, blood flying and her skull cracking and crunching. I swung so many times I lost count. I went to bed and fell asleep after I killed her. The voices were whispering pleased utterances as I nodded off. After my father headed out for his morning walk I jambed the front door with my stepmother's body. I stood at the top of the stairs and laughed as the maid and my father struggled with the door. When my father finally got inside, I helped him lie down, knowing he'd be tired and would long for some rest. Of course, in a bit, I'd be the person making him sleep forever. I waited until 11 am and then grabbed a hatchet and struck him repeatedly. He was asleep even as I attacked him. One of his eyes split cleanly into two and I grinned. I had no doubt that I looked absolutely insane, but I did not care one bit. It took a shorter time to kill him than it did my stepmother. I was getting better at this, and the voices in my mind were proud. I ended with one last blow, and the voices stopped speaking. I glanced down at my blood covered dress and hands and let out a quiet, strangled cry. What had I done? I ran up to my room and washed the blood from my hands. I quickly discarded my dress and changed into a clean one. I ran downstairs. My father's body was still there. I cried for the maid, shrieking that my father was dead and she came rushing in.
What did I do? The voices... they forced my hand, I swear. It wasn't my fault.681Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlffUBee1il
What have I done?
A/N: I actually sometimes research cases such as the Lizzie Borden one, as they are so controversial and/or have so many theories as to what happened. Anyway, I'm pretty sure that the details I included are historically accurate to the actual murders, so hopefully you enjoyed this.681Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCWgzTZlTru
-EnnaStark681Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFu5uURmFtv
