I stood frozen, the knife trembling in my hand. My breath hitched, and for a fleeting moment, reason clawed its way back into my mind.
My daughter.
Her innocent face flashed in my thoughts, cutting through the torrent of hate.
To ensure there were no survivors, I returned to check one last time.
My heart twisted as I found my daughter, lifeless in her crib. She had passed long ago after drinking the milk powder I prepared.
After all, she was my daughter. I gave her mercy—a painless escape from this cruel world.
I cradled her cold, fragile body for a moment, a flood of emotions surging through me. But there was no turning back. Placing her gently back in her crib, I walked away, resolute.
Returning to the living room, I opened the door wide to let the stench of blood dissipate into the air outside. The metallic tang hung heavily, but I had grown numb to it.
I called the police.
Before they arrived, I turned my attention back to Elysia. With what strength I had left, I made sure her body bore traces of the sins I wanted her punished for. When exhaustion overtook me, I dropped the knife and slumped onto the sofa.