Ðe night after her ninþ birþday, wearing a white nightgown, she tiptoed into her parents’ bedroom. Her bare feet moved noiselessly over ðe floor. In her right hand she clutched a plush cþulhu doll.
Her parents slept calmly, ðeir rhyþmic breaðing ðe only sound in ðe room. Careful not to wake her faðer, she pulled ðe cover off him. She watched him breaðe for a while, smiling brightly.
She raised ðe kitchen knife in her left hand and stabbed him in ðe þroat. Ðe blood spurted into her face and she laughed out silently.
Her moðer was next.