Long ago, in a home on the outskirts of London in the county of Essex, there lived a family of three. In the two-storey home, things were not always happy. Though the mother and the father never had any outbursts in front of their beloved daughter, Amy, neighbors often heard the couple fighting and arguing. Their shouts and yells were so frequent that Amy had grown used to it and considered it normal.

Things were about to take a bizarre turn, in their small world.

And then, it was one evening when it all happened.

After returning home from a play session, that day, Amy heard her parents in their room arguing. She ignored it and proceeded to the stairs to her room. At the top of the stairs, she turned to see her parents storming out of their room furiously. When they noticed her standing there, they calmed down and her father asked her to go to her room. She did as she was asked and went, silently, to her room.

The father turned back to his wife, anger and hate still burning in his eyes. Everything came boiling up like a volcano. Years of fighting and insults burning his soul finally unleashed. The mother had still no interest in keeping things calm, she kept yelling at him. It was then that he reached over to the wall where his treasured cricket bat was kept. Without a thought, he took the bat and swung as hard as he could.

The bat made a loud crack upon impact with his wife’s head. She was thrown onto the stairs. Blood began to pool around her. He stood over her, panting, until he realized what he had done. Anxiously, he began to pace. Dropping the bat, he raced to her side, and saw that she was dead. His nerves felt an instant elevation of rush.

In a panic, he grabbed her feet and dragged her to a nearby closet. It was nearly full, but he stuffed her inside. He found the mop and began to clean up the blood, unsuccessfully.  He did nothing more than smear the blood everywhere. He heard a creak from the top of the stairs and looked up. There stood Amy, smiling at him. Fear and panic began to eat away at his stomach as he took in the scene covered in blood with his princess staring down at him. What did she see? What did she know?

The thought that she saw him brutally murdering her mother, gave him sudden chills.

Suddenly, she began giggling. It made him feel uneasy and worried. He dropped the mop and slowly went up the stairs. She continued to giggle at him. He kneeled down and held her shoulders.

“What are you laughing at, Amy?” he asked. Her expression changed, just then. It changed to the same expression she got every time her mother made faces at her. She reached up, pointing at something just beyond his shoulder. She leaned in close and then she whispered.

“Mum is making faces at me. But why is she sitting on your back, daddy?”