What's Swept Under The Carpet

I don't know what's wrong with them. It was such a beautiful painting. A pretty little girl with cute yellow frock. Piggy tailed black hair and red shoes. The fuzzy bear she's holding is peeping from behind her back. It's the cutest thing I've ever seen, and it's almost five thousand times better than my dad's-attempt-to-paint-mom that's hanging in the living room.

We got it from a dead aunt that I never even knew. She's dead and her lawyer called dad to collect the inheritance. We were a little hopeful, mom and dad said she was incredibly rich. But turned out all we got is just this painting. All her money went to a social organization.

Well, for me, better little than none. Considering we never even visited her, she's nice enough to remember us in her deathbed. I asked mom and dad how come we never visited her, she must lived in a big house in the countryside. She said we visited her a couple of times when I was really small, but now, we're just too busy for relatives. Well, for me, better a rich relative than no relatives at all.

The first time we opened the wrappings, there were silence in the room. The painting fascinated me. I fell in love with it at the first sight. But mom and dad grew restless. Dad quickly wrapped it up again and murmured something I didn't really hear. He took it upstairs hurriedly. I didn't know what's wrong with them, but mom quickly said we better keep it in the attic.

"We should just hang it in the living room, Mom."

Gosh, how she looked nervous.

"What's wrong? What is it? What's with the painting?" My suspicion rose.

"Nothing. It just won't suit here. Look, it looks expensive, though. I think dad could find a buyer for that." Said Mom.

What?! Not only they never cared for her when she's alive, now they want to sell her only inheritance. Great, how respectful.

"I'm disappointed, Mom. You should've put more respect to her." I said, leaving.

***


If there's one thing I don't understand, it's grown-ups. They worked their asses off to get their hands on pricey things. And when they got the real deal, they trade it off for money.

I laid my head on the pillows. Too bad, it was such a pretty painting. I stared at the wall in front of me. Hey, why don't I hang it on my wall meanwhile? Must take a little while for Dad to find a buyer.

I went to the attic and got back in five minutes. I hung it on the wall and it fitted just nicely in my room. The yellow frock and the smile suited the white wall so nicely. It's such a soothing thing, looking at the girl.

Strange, after a while looking at it, I felt familiar with the face. Did I meet her back then when I was just a kid, visiting the aunt? And who is she, by the way? Is she the aunt's daughter? Didn't the lawyer say the aunt has no other beneficiary?
Did my parents know her? Is it why they acted so weird when they saw it?

I wanted to know badly, but I didn't feel like asking right now. I grew sleepy, the girl's smile was hypnotizing, and after a while I fell asleep.

***

I woke up gasping from the nightmare. It was her. It was the little girl, she needs help. She's drowning. She fell. I didn't mean it. I didn't mean to push her to the water. It's just that she can't stop bragging about how she found far more pebbles than me. Or maybe it's not just that, maybe it's also because she had this pretty dress on and all I had was a lousy blouse and dirty pants.

The memory came so sudden, so vivid. It was something I suppressed for too long, and it finally found its way out. I am a killer. I killed her. I was just a kid, but the hatred of having less and the intense desire to get rid of her came back to me at once. I was just a kid, but I wanted to kill her.