I'm nervous, stressed, worried, anxious, that's what I am! But does that mean I'm crazy? Bein' nervous and stressed is totally normal, right? Bein' nervous and stressed doesn't mean I'm crazy, do you think so, huh? I'm completely normal, as normal as a person can be, let me tell ya! It's hard to be as normal as I am, ya can trust me on that!
My name's Phoebe Fairwell, and I'm just an ordinary eighteen-year-old female pilgrim who's been livin' in the New World for three years... or was it two years... or maybe four years...? If I'm bein' honest, I can't remember, but it don't matter, the important thing is I wanna make it clear to you that I'm perfectly normal, and I'm not crazy one bit!
I'm totally normal, I've got long cinnamon brown hair that goes all the way down to my waist, I've got emerald green eyes, I've got a pair of perfectly normal rose-pink lips, and I wear a completely regular black-and-white velvet dress. Don't you think I seem completely normal, huh? Don't you? HUH, YOU DIDN'T ANSWER MY QUESTION, DO YOU THINK I'M COMPLETELY NORMAL?!
I've never had anything against Josephine Fairwell. Josephine Fairwell was the prettiest, sweetest seventeen-year-old sister an eighteen year old girl could wish for. Her skin was as light as the color of a cloud, she had raven-black hair tied up in a neat waterfall braid, she had a pair of sweet cherry-red lips, and a very pointy but cute nose. She was the prettiest girl in the whole New World.
But what bothered me was her eyes. She had a pair of deformed, cat-like eyes that were as red as the color of a blood drop or a rose that had just bloomed. Her eyes scared me so much. It was her eyes that made me nervous, stressed, worried, anxious. Josephine must've been a witch, a demon, or even worse, the Devil himself, or maybe she sold her soul to the King of Hell!
I know what you're thinkin', don't think I don't know! You're thinkin' that the young woman tellin' this story, that is me, is exaggerating a little when I say my sister must be the Devil himself, I know you're thinkin' that, don't try to lie to me! But if you had a sister with blood-red eyes, I bet you'd be scared of her too, right? Right? RIGHT? Don't lie to me 'cause I can tell when someone's lyin'!
Because of Josephine's damn eyes, I couldn't live a normal life. I couldn't sleep for nights, I couldn't help my father Gilbert Fairwell with the animals and the farm we own here in Milkweed Hills, and I couldn't even have dinner with my family 'cause I was too focused on sittin' there, starin' at Josephine's devil eyes! Every day and every night I woke up all sweaty 'cause I had nightmares about Josephine's diabolical eyes!
My whole life's been ruined thanks to my evil sister and her cursed devil eyes! Every night I snuck outta my room, went to my sister's bedroom, opened the door, and then I'd go in and stare at her eyes. I know what you're thinkin', why the hell would I go into my sister's room every night just to stare at her eyes?! There must be somethin' wrong with this eighteen-year-old girl who goes into her sister's room every night just to stare at her wide-open eyes, I know you're thinkin' that, don't lie to me! But if YOU had a sister with the Devil's cat eyes, you'd be scared of her too, right? RIGHT? RIGHT? RIGHT?!
Sometimes it happened that I'd sneak into my sister's room and lick her wide-open eyes, and the reason I licked her eyes was 'cause I wanted to see if I could taste all the evil in them. Goodness tastes sweet and mild, but evil tastes dirty and dry. All I could taste was evil and malice. My sister's evil must've made a pact with the Devil or she's Satan herself, there was no doubt about it!
And that's why one night I swore an oath, an oath that would help me get my old life back and free my sister from the Devil's grasp. I thought I'd kill my sister before the week was out, I was gonna kill her and bury her somewhere no one would ever find her dead body. This way, I'd free both me and her from the Devil's grasp. I wanna tell ya again, the decision I made DID NOT mean I was crazy or anything. I just wanted to save my sister from Satan, how evil is that, huh?!
I was guilt-free, totally guilt-free! What I was gonna do could save all of Milkweed Hills, and it could save all of New England! I was gonna free New England from the Devil, I was gonna be historic, they'd write about me in the history books as the young woman who freed the country from evil itself!
The next weeks, I stayed up every night plannin' how I'd kill my sister and free her from the Devil. I thought maybe I should hang her on the gallows, or sneak into her room and strangle her to death, or maybe I should manipulate my father, Gilbert Fairwell, into killin' her so no one would know it was me? I've always been good at manipulatin' men and young men, all I've gotta do is flirt with 'em and promise 'em a kiss in exchange for what I want 'em to do for me.
One night I got an idea. Me, my family, and all the other pilgrims who emigrated from England to the New World weren't ordinary English pilgrims. We were English pilgrims who practiced our own kind of witchcraft and magic, and we called our magic "New England Witchcraft and Magic." I planned to lure my sister into the woods, paralyze her with a magical spell, and then I'd decapitate her and bury her head under a tree!
It was a brilliant plan, if I do say so myself, and I DO say so, it was a brilliant plan!
That night, the woods were cloaked in thick darkness, only the moon's silver-white rays pierced through. The bare trees reached up like skeleton fingers toward the sky, and a cold wind swept through Milkweed Hills, whisperin' as if the forest itself knew what was about to happen. I'd prepared everything. My magic book was hidden under my cloak, and the knife, which I'd sharpened 'til the blade could cut through flesh like butter, was safely in my belt.
Josephine followed me, not knowin' what was in store. She smiled her sweet, innocent smile and held a lantern in her hand. The flickerin' light reflected in her enchanted eyes, and I felt a wave of hate and fear wash over me. How could she look so beautiful, so pure, when in reality she carried the Devil's blood? It was almost like evil was mockin' me by hiding behind that innocent face.
"Phoebe," she said softly, her voice like a feather brushin' the stillness of the night, "why are we out here in the woods so late?"
I forced a smile, so fake it felt like a mask. "I thought we could gather some nightflowers. You know how much Father appreciates 'em."
Josephine nodded. Her trust was as crushing as it was dangerous. She had no idea that every step she took was bringin' her closer to her death.
When we reached the clearing where I'd planned to carry out the deed, I stopped. The place was perfect. The moon cast its cold light over the frozen ground, and the wind fell silent as if the forest was holdin' its breath.
"Here," I said, turnin' toward her, "we'll start here."
Josephine put down the lantern and began pickin' some wilted flowers pokin' out of the snow. That's when I started mumblin' the incantation from my book. The words tasted strange in my mouth, like they weren't meant to be spoken by humans. A cold mist rose from the ground and wrapped around us, and Josephine stopped.
"Phoebe... what are you doin'?" she said in a shaky voice.
Her voice was filled with concern, and for a moment, I hesitated. But then I remembered her eyes, those blood-red cat eyes that had haunted me for all those nights, and my hesitation turned to determination.
"I'm sorry, Josephine," I whispered. "This is for your own good."
She tried to move, but the spell had already taken hold. Her body froze, and she fell to her knees, her eyes wide with shock and fear. I drew out the knife and stepped toward her.
"You don't understand," I said, almost desperate for her to understand, even though it was too late. "I have to do this. You're not yourself anymore. The Devil's got you, and I can't let him destroy us all."
Josephine tried to say something, but the words got stuck in her throat. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and for the first time, I felt a sharp pang of guilt. But I couldn't let it stop me. I raised the knife, and with one quick movement, I severed her head.
When the deed was done, I squatted down over my dead sister's body. I looked at her long, slender form, now missing its head. I dipped the knife blade into her flowing blood and slowly brought it to my crimson lips. I licked the blood off the blade. Oh, it tasted so good, as sweet as honey or cornbread. After sittin' there, hunched over my dead sister's body, eatin' and drinkin' from her, I slowly stood up and walked back home.
I know you might think I sound crazy for doin' this to my own sister—killin' her and then eatin' her flesh. But I'm NOT crazy! I AM NOT CRAZY! What I did was the right thing to do, I'm completely guilt-free, as guilt-free as a person can be! I did Milkweed Hills and all of New England a great service. No one, not me or anyone else, would have to suffer from Josephine's devil eyes again—those damned eyes that caused so much fear and worry in my soul!
After I carried out my plan, after I severed her head and tasted her dead body, I thought I'd feel free. I thought I could return to my life as if nothing had happened, like everything would go back to normal. But nothing went like I thought it would. The longer time passed, the more I felt that something was wrong.
It started with the sound.
At first, it was faint, almost like a distant, muffled thump, like someone was beatin' a heart far away. I tried to ignore it, thinkin' it was just the wind or maybe just my own imagination. But every night, when I was in bed, it felt like it was gettin' closer, like the sound was pushin' in from every corner of the room.
I twisted and turned in bed, tryin' to sleep, but the sound kept growin' louder. It was a thumpin' heart, a thumpin' heart that didn't belong, a heart that belonged to someone who wasn't alive anymore. It was like my sister was still there, like her heart was still beatin', like she hadn't really died.
I laid there, starin' up at the ceiling, breathin' fast and shallow. Why wasn't I free? Why wasn't this curse over? Why, after doin' what was right, was I tormented by this sound?
It was like Josephine's dead body was speakin' to me through her heart, through its thumpin', and a cold shiver ran down my spine. I tried to stick my fingers in my ears, press 'em against my eardrums, but the sound was too strong, too loud to block out.
When I got up to leave the room, tryin' to distract myself from that annoying thumpin', I heard it even clearer. I didn't see anyone, but I sure as hell wasn't alone. I heard her heart beatin', echoing through the walls of the house. It was the only sound I could hear, the only sound I couldn't get outta my head.
I started wonderin' if I'd made a terrible mistake. Had I not freed her? Had I released a bigger torment instead? Maybe she wasn't bound to the Devil by her red eyes—maybe I was the one trapped in something worse, something I didn't understand.
And the nights got worse. I heard her heart beatin' faster, with a frantic intensity, like she was still alive, like she was still there, not just in my mind, but physically there.
Thumpin', thumpin', thumpin'.
I went out into the woods to clear my mind, but there, in the middle of the night, I heard it again. It was like it was comin' from the ground itself, from the earth where I buried her head. I fell to my knees, scared to cry, but part of me was also mad. I had done what was right! I had done what needed to be done! I freed Milkweed Hills from her evil eyes, so why did it feel like I was trapped in my own hell?!
Eventually, my father and mother started wonderin' where their beloved Josephine had gone. I tricked them into thinkin' a black bear had mutilated her, and they swallowed my lie as easily as they drank the mead at dinner.
But one day, I couldn't keep it in anymore. I had to tell my father Gilbert and my mother Jane the truth. My sister's heart wouldn't stop thumpin', and it felt like that heartbeat was whisperin' to me that it wouldn't stop 'til I confessed to them the murder I had committed.
When I finally told my parents the truth, it was like the world fell apart around me. My father, Gilbert Fairwell, who had always been my rock, stared at me with a mix of shock and horror. His face twisted with rage, his lips trembled as he tried to understand what I had just said.
"You… you killed your own sister?" His voice was a low whisper, filled with a despair I never thought I'd hear from him. My mother, Jane, stood silently next to him, her hands pressed tight against her chest. Her face was pale, and I saw tears fall down her cheeks without her even tryin' to wipe them away.
I wanted to defend myself, to explain that I did it for their sake, for our home, for Milkweed Hills. But the words stuck in my throat. I knew no one would understand, no one could understand. I had saved us from the devil's curse, and yet they saw me as a murderer. They saw me as a monster.
Gilbert stepped forward, and in his eyes burned a fire I'd never seen before. He grabbed my arms with a strength I didn't know he had, and I felt his grip pull me away from my thoughts.
"You're a murderer, Phoebe," he said through clenched teeth. "You've lost your soul. You've lost all your dignity."
I tried to say something, that I wasn't crazy, that it was for their own good, but he wouldn't let go. His grip tightened, and his eyes turned colder, like he didn't see his daughter anymore.
The news of Josephine's murder spread like wildfire, and I heard the horrified whispers. I saw fear in their eyes, but also a kind of triumph. Like they'd all known, long before I did anything, that this was what had to happen.
My parents dragged me to the gallows. I heard the crowd's voices grow louder, they called for justice, and I saw on their faces that they had no pity for me anymore. They didn't just want an execution; they wanted humiliation. I heard some of the townsfolk whisper that I deserved to be hanged, that I was a demon who had lost her humanity.
And when I stood there on the gallows, the cold wind licked my skin, making it hard to breathe, I understood. They weren't gonna show me mercy anymore. They saw me as a lost soul, and nothing would free me from that. I, who had killed my sister to save us all, would now be the one who paid the price.
I looked at my father, his face filled with anger and sorrow. He had already lost his daughter, but now I wasn't his daughter anymore. I was a stranger to him, I was the Devil's daughter.
I knew, in those last moments, that there was no freedom left for me. And maybe, as I saw the world through my final, blurry eyes, it was me who was trapped, not my sister. It was me who had lost my soul, and the world would never forgive me.
But I still believe what I did was right, and no one can change that! I'm not crazy, I'M NOT CRAZY, CAN'T YOU UNDERSTAND THAT, CAN YOU FOR THE LOVE OF GOD UNDERSTAND THAT?! I did Milkweed Hills and all of New England a great favor, a favor I'm incredibly proud and happy to have done.
Now I'd never have to suffer from my sister's eyes again, her eyes that didn't belong to her, but to the Devil himself.