Every day. Every say he came back and destroyed her flower garden. She tended to it and loved it like it was a living, breathing person. After her husband had died this little garden was all she had left that gave her joy in life. Today, however, today, she wouldn't let this filth of a child ruin it. She watched and waited, quietly sipping on some tea. Then she saw him. Smiling and running up to her house. As soon as his first little foot entered the garden she was out of her chair and out the door. The little boy kicked and screamed as she drug him into the house and closed the door. The image of a spider catching a fly slowly floated into her head.

His small body writhed in the chair, the nylon rope tight against his tender skin. her sobs began to mix with the ones emitting from the child. She closed her eyes as she forced the butcher's knife into his soft abdomen. He fell silent. She began to cry and scream. What had she done? The sound of sirens pounded in her head. She quickly removed the knife from the boy's stomach, bringing with it a slew of blood and stomach contents. She charged out into the yard, screaming and waving the knife. She ran through her flower garden. Bullets erupted from the guns that the police held, mowing down the elderly woman. They were puzzled at why she had run at them at first. But not as puzzled as the neighbors. The neighbors who now remembered her as the woman who had killed her own grandson, and then committed suicide by cops. She had even died with a smile.

The End

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