I suppose you want to know the truth of what I did, huh? Well, maybe if I gave you a brief explanation, you'll be more glad to hear me out. Or maybe not. Depends on what type of a person you are. If you enjoy hearing gruesome stories or not, that is.
My name is Justin Lowe and I am nineteen. I hated my grandmother, June Lowe, and always dreamed of getting revenge on her. I'd been forced to live with her from the time I was ten until just last year, and what she'd done was enough to make me hate her guts. Well, Grandmaw, you will learn to forgive and treat me better.
I lived in a nice, fancy house on the east coast and darn, if it didn't make the facade of our family any better. How nicely our last name fit us, too. I guess it meant 'lion', and that certainly explained us - I came from a blueblood family where everyone was vicious like lions. Plus, it rhymed with 'low' and some of my nouveau riche relatives stooped so low with their insults, gossip, and backstabbing, it was sickening. Let me tell ya, I wish I could change my name. I hated being a Lowe.
I went to see my grandmother while she lay dying on her death bed. I'll admit evilly that I wasn't sad to see that old witch go. After the beatings I received from her with her whip, and all the insults flung at me, I was actually happy to see her leave this world. She was just too darn mean for this world. Dressed in a fancy wool suit with my nicest tie and my blond hair perfectly spiked, I stomped into her room with my head held high.
My grandmother lied on her huge swan bed, a rattle in her throat from having smoked for so long. My father and mother were in the downstairs part of the mansion, talking amongst themselves. Thank god. I didn't want them to hear what I was about to say to June.
I drifted into my grandmother's bedroom and saw her lying there, her face caked with make-up. Her eyes appeared to be two dark marbles in her wrinkly, artificially tan skin. Lipstick was smeared grotesquely on her thin lips. And her black hair was curled tightly. She was a frightening sight.
"Justin," she hissed.
"Hello, Grandmother. How nice to see your face," I growled, shutting the door behind me. "And how nice to see you alive and well."
"Shut up." She turned towards the window. "Devil's Issue."
My mouth dropped open, yet I wasn't surprised. For years, she crammed religion down my throat brutally. She would never stop. I was made to feel evil. I remember one time when she burst in on me when I was getting dressed. She'd glared at me, her eyes raking up and down my slender figure. "You may be drop-dead gorgeous, Justin Eric Lowe, but you're worthless! Evil! Devil's Issue! And you're going to go to hell!"
I hated her.
"You've done your part in making me feel evil, Darling Grandmother," I said, pulling a chair up near her bedside.
"I hope you rot in hell," she said.
I frowned, chewing on my lower lip. "Ummm...I don't think that'll happen. You will be the one to rot before I." Little did she know that I hired a new nurse to take care of her - a meaner one who wouldn't take any of her crap. This one would do what I asked.
"Your new nurse is here, Grandmother." I turned towards the door and shouted, "Miss Longworth!" Within moments, a mustachioed woman drifted into the room, closely resembling the frau from the Austin Powers movies, only this gal was way uglier and meaner looking. She wiped her hands on her apron. "Mr. Lowe." She nodded at me.
"Take care of her." I stood up and left Grandmother at the mercy of Miss Longworth.
As I walked away, I cracked my knuckles. "Oh Grandmother," I sang, "you will get what you deserve." After cussing furiously, I made my way down the stairs.
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