I grew up in a small farmhouse, far removed from any modern amenities. I lived alone with my mother. All I really remember from my early childhood was her being drunk and enraged 90% of the time. She would constantly remind me of how our father had abandoned us for some whore in the city. He took off one day to grab a pack of cigarettes and never came home. She told me us girls needed to stick together, that most men were animals, and most were monsters.
Most of our dinner conversations revolved around some drunken rant she would go on, telling me about the atrocities men commit, the evils of the world and how they could all be vanquished if we could rid the planet of those vile creatures. That’s what she mostly referred to them as: creatures.
We lived off the land, rarely venturing into the small town about 10 miles from our house, to gather any supplies we couldn’t grow or forage ourselves. Mother would never let me leave the truck. She said it was too dangerous for a girl like me.
My mother was a hard worker. She expected the same from me. Everyday in the summer I worked from dusk until dawn, tending the plants, the chickens, the few animals we had on the farm. The winter months were even harder.
My mother worked odd hours. She would often leave during the day for a few hours and come home seeming exhilarated, while I was exhausted from a hard days work. Sometimes she would put me to bed and then leave for long hours in the middle of the night. Leaving me alone, in the dark, wide awake and paranoid of every creaky sound, the settling pipes, every gust of wind that flowed outside the old house.
When I asked her why she was always leaving, she told me she would explain everything when I was older. I kept asking her how old I had to be, until finally on my 11th birthday she decided it was time.
After I blew out my candles and began stuffing my face full of cake, she looked at me in a way I had never seen. Her stern eyes burned directly into mine.
“I think it’s finally time I told you the truth.” She told me.
“I have been called upon by God you see.. he has tasked me to rid the world of evil and I have devoted my life to this task.” My mother went on to explain.
“You are my only daughter, and the only one I will ever have. I must pass this task to you, for one day I will be too old to carry out God’s work.” She said this so matter of fact I was at a loss for words.
“What—what are you talking about?” I stammered.
I knew my mother was eccentric. I knew she was an angry women, but I felt more confused as ever as she continued on her rant about vanquishing evil and how that was our sole purpose in this life.
“I think it would be better if I just show you. Tomorrow we will get up early, I will take you out into the woods and I will show you the truth.” My mother said somberly. Followed by a more typical motherly “time for bed, sweetheart. You’ll need to be sharp in the morning.”
I tossed and turned all night. Wondering what on earth my mother had planned for me the following morning.
My mother woke me up before the sun was up. Fed me a hearty breakfast of fresh eggs and meat. She gave me an outfit to wear. I hated it, it was adorned in green and brown splotches. She called it camouflage and said it was necessary for our task today.
With a rifle over her shoulder and a sharp hunting knife she led me out the door and into the woods behind our house. We walked for what felt like miles.
“Where are we going mother? I’m tired,” I whined.
“SHUT UP!” she snapped back, “get down!”
She grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me down behind a rock formation.
“Look,” she said pointing to the ground. “Do you see where the leaves and weeds and wild flowers have been trampled? This means we’re close. You’ll need to learn to track your pray.”
She began to creep slowly forward, I followed behind her quickly catching up. I was a few inches ahead of her when she grabbed me hard by the back of my shirt with enough force to knock me on my back.
“What the he—“ she cut me off before I could finish my sentence.
“Stupid girl!” She said through gritted teeth. As she pointed to an open bear trap on the ground.
She went on to explain to me that those traps were set up by the evil creatures she had told me about. That their grotesque torture devices were designed to trap a majestic bear by the leg. The bear would flail and cry out in agony, trying with all its might to tear its leg out of the metal jaws of death. She described to me in horrific detail the way the bear would rip it’s own ligaments, muscles, tendons and tissue trying to tear it’s own leg off to be free. Knowing what the vile creatures would do to it would be even worse. Often her cubs would wail and cry for their mother, watching her suffering. Mother bear knowing her babies were doomed to starvation if she was unable to free herself.
“The creatures will come to check their traps. They will find her there mangled and terrified. They will pat each other on the back for a job well done as they kick her cubs out of the way and shoot her to death, the only mercy they afford her. Meanwhile hooting and hollering, laughing proudly like children, so impressed with themselves that they ended her life. This they do for sport, for pleasure.” Mother explained.
I was horrified, absolutely disgusted at the thought. Trying to process, trying to understand why. The land provided all we could ever need. Nature was kind to us. Animals were more important than people. Mother always told me this. Men are a scourge, a plague on the beauty that is nature.
“We will all die if we destroy enough of God’s creatures, but if they killed all of us instead, they would thrive.” Mother had told me this many years ago.
“Why?? Why would the creatures do this? Don’t they know how important the animals are?” I asked innocently.
“They don’t care.” Mother told me. “They want to pretend they are more powerful than nature herself. They live to destroy all that is pure and good in this world. And that is why it is up to us to stop them, do you understand my child?” She asked.
Still confused I just nodded my head and we kept walking.
Mother ducked down again and pulled me down with her.
“There they are! The creatures…. They hide up in the trees and they shoot the beautiful deer for fun! They think they’re so clever hiding up there, using weapons beyond anything reasonable to use against a defenseless child of God!” She seethed.
Without another word I watched as she pointed the rifle at one of the creatures. I had imagined he would look scarier … like the descriptions of demons mother told me of. With hooves and sharp teeth, green skin and black eyes. The man looked like me and mother .. just with shorter hair.
“Mother—“
BAM!! A gunshot rang through the silent woods. My ears were ringing painfully… I covered them and tried to regain my composure as I watched the creature fall from the tree.
The other creature began to scream in horror. It didn’t sound like a rabid animal. It sounded just like a person screaming, with a deeper voice.
“Bobby!? Bobby!?” The creature cried out. “Ohh god, oh my god!”
He began to descend from the tree, but before he reached the ground another gunshot bellowed out through the trees, hitting the creature directly in the head. He dropped next to his dying friend. The thing named Bobby made such awful sounds, guttural gurgling sounds as he chocked on the blood in his throat.
Mother took me by the hand and urged me to run. We ran straight back to the farm house.
I ran into my room and cried. I cried and I cried until I couldn’t breath. When I finally caught my breath and calmed down, mother entered my room.
“Mother, why? Why did you do that? They did not look like evil creatures. They looked just like us!! I know it’s wrong of them to hurt the animals but why is it okay to hurt them?” I pleaded. Trying to wrap my 11 year old brain around what I had just seen.
“Because someone has to.” My mother said calmly. “I know it is unpleasant, but it is out duty. God told me this my child, and who am I to question God? You see those creatures were once men before their souls were corrupted by the devil. I wish I could tell you there are more good ones than bad, but it seems it is too late. I have never met a man who has not been corrupted. They may try to fool you into believing they are good, but underneath their human appearance, they are nothing but soulless minions of Satan himself.”
She went on to explain that these corrupted men did much worse than just kill animals for fun. She began describing in detail atrocities to me I could have never fathomed in my worst nightmares. Things these creatures do. The massacres they were responsible for. The things they would do to a girl like me if they ever caught me off guard.
I was so confused and so horrified I had no choice but to believe her. As over the years I did as I was told and followed in her footsteps. To question her would mean that every man she trained me to shoot, capture, maim, dismember, gut and cook for supper was wrong… bad… sinful. I chose to believe we were doing God’s work because that’s what mother said we were doing. This was all I knew.
It made sense really. She said the world was over populated. Too many people. Too many of the evil ones who masqueraded as men. Not enough food too eat, so they raised and cared for animals for years, locked in cages until they were grown and then slaughtered for meat.
She said we were saving the planet, and saving the animals by eating the evil doers instead. She said they tasted better than the animals anyway. She knew this as she had once been forced to slaughter a pig on this very same farm. A pig she cared for and loved, a pig she considered her best friend when she had no others in the world.
Her father slaughtered her pig in front of her. Laughing while she cried. Calling her a silly sentimental girl. He made her eat her best friend for dinner that night. Ham, he called it. She tried to refuse but he beat her so badly she was forced to comply, or risk being locked in the cellar and forced to go hungry for weeks.
She said that was the first night God spoke to her. The next day she took an axe to the old man while he lied asleep in bed. Butchered him just the way he had taught her to butcher the pig. The meat tasted much better she told me.
This went on for years. Anyone caught wondering though our woods were my responsibility. Mother would go out and find more on her crusade to rid the world of as many evil men as she possibly could.
I tried to put them down as humanely as possible. I did not receive the same messages my mother claimed to, but I knew no one else, so I trusted her, blindly. I want to say I didn’t know any better but something about what we were doing just felt.. wrong to me for some reason.
Then one day my mother went out and she didn’t come back. I waited all night and into the next day. She had never been gone this long before. I was starting to panic. I packed some water and supplies and set out on foot onto the long road towards town.
Not sure how many miles I had walked in the heat. I had already finished my supply of water. I was exhausted and dehydrated. I fell to my knees on the side of the road and began to cry. I felt utterly hopeless. Terrified of the creatures who may find me as the sun began to set, when I heard a truck slowing down.
I looked up to see a young man standing over me.
“Ummm hey there,” he said softly. “Do you need some help? Do you need a ride somewhere? Can I call someone for you?” He sounded nervous.
I began trying to crawl backwards from him.
“Please don’t hurt me, please. I’m just trying to find my mother. Please don’t kill me!” I begged the stranger.
“Whooaaa okay, okay, easy…” he said. “I’m not going to hurt you. I was just trying to help.” His tone was soft, gentle. He didn’t sound like a monster.
“Why I don’t I drive you to the police station. They find missing people there, maybe they can help you find your mother.” He told me.
I was shaking, terrified, but I didn’t see any other option. I needed to get to town. I needed to find mother. I got in the truck with the man and prayed he wouldn’t do any of the heinous things to me my mother had told me about.
“So… what’s your name?” He asked.
I remained silent.
“Well I’m Josh,” he said. “Nice to meet you, I hope you find your mom. I lost my mom a few years back, still miss her everyday.” His voice trailed off as he said this.
“She went missing too?” I asked.
“Ohh no.. she passed away… she uhhh died,” he said, judging the confused look on my face.
“I’m sorry,” I replied.
“Thanks, she was the best. Sounds like you and your mom are close too. Family is the most important thing.” He said.
I just nodded.
Then he reached his hand out and I immediately recoiled.
“Whoa hey now, it’s okay. I’m just going to put some music on.” He said with a smile.
He turned a knob and I could hear sounds coming from the truck.
Confused I asked him where that noice was coming from.
“It’s just my car radio,” he said this sounding even more confused than I did.
“You’ve never heard of a radio before?” He asked.
I snook my head.
“Well it’s like a TV just without the screen, I guess.” He said, laughing at his own attempted explanation.
“A TV?” I asked curiously.
“You’ve never heard of a TV??” He sounded shocked when he asked me this. “What about a cell phone?” He went on.
I just shook my head again.
“Were you in like, some sort of cult or something? I think you should tell the police all of this when we get there… okay?” He sounded concerned as he instructed me what to tell the police.
He walked me into the station. I was so nervous. There were men everywhere. They all had guns. I hid behind the man, Josh. So far he had done nothing to hurt me. But of course I did not trust any of the others.
I listened in a daze as Josh explained to a woman how he had found me, dirty and crying on the side of the road, looking for my mother.
He told her I didn’t know what a TV or phone or even a radio was. I did not understand why this was important.
Suddenly the flood gates opened, and I couldn’t stop the words from pouring from my mouth.
“Lady, aren’t you terrified? All these men, they all have guns!! They’re going to murder the animals, they’re going to do bad things to you. There are so many of them. We have to stop them, before they over power us! Please, mother will punish me if she finds out I did nothing!” I cried out to the woman.
She stared at me with a concerned look of confusion, which I then notice take on another form. And emotion of pity perhaps? It reminded me of how mother looked at me on my 11th birthday when she told me the horrible truths I was finally deemed old enough to be burdened with.
“I’m going to need to come with me… okay sweetie?” She said softly. “Your mother is here, you can see her soon, but we need to speak with you privately first.”
She took me by the hand and guided me down a hallway. I didn’t want to leave Josh, I felt safe around him. I knew he wasn’t one of the monsters, I just knew it. I watched him scratch his head and mess with his hair as he walked towards the doors, he looked back at me and smiled a concerned yet comforting smile.
Over the next hour the police lady told me they had my mother in custody. That they had been trying to build a case against her for years. They called her a “serial killer” Which they went on to explain the meaning of.
“No!! No!!” I shouted. My mother is not a murderer!! She was called upon by God to vanquish the evil scourge of men from humanity, so that there could be peace on earth amongst all of Heaven’s innocent creatures!” I cried out, tears now streaming down my face.
“It is her duty! It is my duty to follow in her footsteps! We are doing what God wants! We are saving the innocent from monsters! You can’t lock her away! Who will keep the monsters from destroying everything!?” I continued to cry out, shouting now, pleading with them to let me see my mother.
They never did let me see her. They brought me to a place with white walls and bright lights. With tiny beds and doors that I could not open. They told me it was for my own good.
My mother brainwashed me. That’s what they said. They said her hatred towards men had driven her mad. She was paranoid and very sick. They explained to me that there are many sick people and those sick people do bad things, both men and women. They explained that most people try to be good and kind and care about others.
I couldn’t accept that. I wouldn’t accept that. No matter how many medications they put me on, or how many sessions with the man they called doctor, no matter how many sweet sitcoms as they called them of loving happy families. I couldn’t believe them.
Because to believe them… would mean that everything I did to those men was evil. It would mean that I had slaughtered the innocent. It would mean that I was the very monster I spent the better part of my life believing it was my duty to destroy.
My mother pleaded guilty; she couldn’t deny all the fingerprint evidence she left behind. She didn’t even try. She denied nothing. Still proudly claiming she was doing God’s work. That she had killed more of his minions than she could even count.
The information about my mother was kept from the public in order to protect me. They said I would need a new identity, so no one came after me for what I or my mother had done.
It didn’t make sense to me at first why my mother was sentenced to life in prison, while I was soon to be released from the hospital with no charges against me.
Once I could no longer deny the reality of what I had done. The guilt broke me. I confessed to every sin. Every murder. Everything I had ever done. The doctors said that I was not of sound mind. That I did not do what I did of my own free will as I was unable to understand right from wrong.
My mother had isolated me from every part of the outside world. I knew nothing of morality or law other than what she had told me. Somehow that was enough to absolve me from my legal sins, but not my shame.
I sold the farm house and bought myself a small cottage. I live with my 3 cats and I try my best to be kind to all creatures. Humans and animals. I have had no contact with my mother since she was arrested. I have tried to put this all behind me but every time I close my eyes to sleep I see the faces of the men who’s lives I stole. Gasping for breath, begging for mercy I did not show them.
I don’t feel like I deserve to be alive knowing they are not. I deserve to die. I am writing this confession because I had to get it off my chest. I just —
I heard a knock at the door. It’s the middle of the night. ‘Why would anyone be knocking so late?’ I wondered.
I answered the door to a man in a hoodie and a dark hat.
“My car broke down on the side of the road.” He told me. “Can I please use your phone?”
“It’s on the table,” I said as I turned to get it for him.
He lunged at me and knocked me face first on to the ground. Pinning my arms behind my back with one hand, he began trying to remove my pants.
I screamed and begged and cried. But he wouldn’t stop.
“I know it was you!” He seethed. “It was you who killed my dad and my brother!” Blows landing hard on the back of my head. I felt like I would pass out any second.
“I was only 8 years old! I was too scared to hunt with them, the guns were too loud, so I tagged along, keeping my distance.” He cried.
I writhed and squirmed, but he was sitting on top of me now. I couldn’t breath. It was useless, he had me completely over powered and I knew it.
“I watched from behind a tree as you shot them both! You stood over their bodies, and you watched them die! I will make you pay you fucking bitch! Show you the same mercy you showed them… NONE!” He screamed this as he tightened his grip on my wrists until I felt like they would break.
This man was once a child who did not want to hurt the animals. Who followed his father blindly as I had followed mother. I was the reason this man was now a monster. The realization made it harder and harder to breathe as the world around me began to fade.
“I— I’m sorry…” I choked out. Trying desperately to suck in air. Continuing to try to apologize through the gagging and wheezing sounds that came out of my mouth. “I didn’t know, I didn’t know what I was doing!” I cried.
A hard blow to the head and everything went dark. I came too as he was pulling his pants down, realizing mine were already off.
“I’m going to make you pay for what you did to my family!” He screamed and spat in my face.
Realizing he was distracted I punched him in the nose as hard as I could. Temporarily stunned as blood gushed from his face he leaned back.
Screaming obscenities at me as I tried to stand up, his hand gripping my ankle. I kicked and flailed. He got me to the floor, but I kept kicking.
He wailed as my foot made contact with his already shattered nose. Giving me just enough time to grab a knife from the kitchen. He ran at me, and I plunged the knife into him. In and out, in and out, in and out. Until the cries stopped and the gurgling stopped and he lay limp on the floor in a pool of blood.
I didn’t want to do that. I really didn’t. I feel horrible… I understand what he was angry but either way, he was one of the bad ones now, he was going to do horrible things to me, he had to be stopped. I know if I tell the cops they’ll think I just went crazy like Mother. What else could I do besides get rid of the body and use lots and lots of bleach like mother always said?
I’ve grown and learned a lot since being released from isolation, and the brainwashing of my mother’s influence as the shrinks called it. But is that not true for all of us? Parents teach us many things. Mothers are not right about everything, but they are right about some things.
Two things my mother was right about: there are a lot of bad people out there; and nothing tastes better than human meat. I almost forgot how delicious it was.