My Turn

by Madilyn DeRose

My parents always guilted me by reminding me that there were starving kids in the world. Sorry, kids. Grief was a bigger beast for me at the time.

“You’re right. If I did what was best for you, I would’ve ripped you from his arms a decade ago, but what good would it have done? You can’t even fucking look at me without seeing him. You’ll always cast me in his shadow and because of his endless disappointments, I don’t even get the chance to claw my way out.”

His death should’ve made things easier. It was supposed to. If I’d known there were going to be so many hiccups, I would’ve confronted him about it again before I carried out my plan with the fire.

Word of advice: don’t tattoo your goddamn genitals. Second word of advice: don’t let a psycho tattoo your goddamn genitals.

“Here’s the problem. You are what I might call an incel, or close to one. Clearly, you think women owe you something. They don’t. That thing in your pants…” I pointed at it with the knife, which made him tense. “I’ve got one too. Am I harassing women who don’t want to date me? Am I acting like having a Y chromosome somehow makes me better than them? Fuck no, I’m not.”

She smiled widely, revealing two dimples. Gah, my heart. I was supposed to keep my distance, but I was getting attached to the kid already. Maybe if I killed Mike… No, bad idea. It was too easy to be implicated in that.

I have a stalker. And right now, they were standing under the tree at the edge of my property while I sipped my coffee and acted like I didn’t know they were there. I sucked in a breath when they took a step forward. They looked smaller than I thought they would, but in their dark clothes it was difficult to make out any specifics. Suddenly, their face lit up. Two green Xs for eyes and a stitched mouth.