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Janie by Ashley D., 7th Grade

Janie
By Ashley D.

It was a snowy white Christmas morning in London when it happened, no one saw it coming. Not Janie or I, we just though we were going to visit my parents’ house for a lovely breakfast. But that never happened because on the way there Janie was killed, on Christmas someone decided to kill my baby. And, I want revenge, I want her back. The only way to do that, is to kill that sorry son of a gun. Today, now. I haven’t got his license number, but by God I’ll get it and I’ll make him pay.
In the jailhouse I’ll see him, I know just what I’ll do, I’ll visit him and then I’ll get him with my words I’ll get him, they’ll slaughter his conscience and eat it for breakfast. That’s brilliant! Then at night once the guards sleep, that’s when I’ll kill ‘im. That’s when that moron will pay! I’ll chop him up, and grin as his pain and screams fill the room. I’ll die with laughter as I look as his dead body with glee. Then, as quick as a cheetah I leave. Taking my weapon, my dignity, and my revenge with me. He’ll never know what’s coming for him, he’ll never understand how a mother thinks. How I think, kill my baby and you die too! Ha! Ha!
I’ll go not, it’s 7:05, time to die!
Sincerely,
Sonia, mother of Jane

“Extra! Extra! Read all about it! Psycho kills innocent man” the paper read that day, but now Jane and I can be together.

“Mum?” Janie asked. “Mum are you there?” Janie asked. “Mum! You’re going to drive into that truck!” Jane screamed.

I was not listening, I was off in my dream world where Janie had already died and so did I. I was trapped in my own mind, but Jane, for the last five seconds she was alive. Then bam, she was dead, on the first Christmas she was going to spend with my Mum and Dad, and the first time that she sat in the front seat. Gone, all because of me, there was no man crashing into my car and killing my daughter. It was all me, in my mind. Now my daughter is dead because of me, because of my anxiety and “therapeutic issues.” The only thing I’d like to say to Jane is if you think the daughter’s crazy, I can’t wait until you meet the mother.

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