“Want to eat, Grandma?” Is what I said, so we ate dinner in blissful peace. I retold this story to my friends:

It was a beautiful, bright sunny day in school, and we were waiting for the first bell to ring. We loved to meet with each other in the courtyard and talk like regular 10th graders.

I told them this story, for some unknown reason. It wasn’t funny, nor was it informative. It was persuasive in any way. But I had the urge to say it. But a common mistake I make is that I speak so quickly that it sounds like I’m not putting punctuation. I said:

“So I said ‘Want to eat Grandma?’”. My friends told me I was crazy, but in a laughing manner. We all had our own problems going on. I cocked my head at them in confusion.

“Oh, you’re serious,” said Nicoletta.

“We’ll, why not?” Said Sashaletta.

I continued my head cocking still going on.

The bell rang, interrupting any context I was about to include. That night, I was sleeping at my house, my grandma being there because she was the only family I had left. I don’t like to talk about it with anyone.

I get ready for bed, already hearing the snores of my grandma. I finish brushing my teeth and start walking to the bed. I start to doze off until finally…

I awake the loud clicking sound, like someone was trying to break in. Or out. I turn on my lights and follow the sound, like I did when I would play Marco Polo with my friends. I’m led to my grandma’s room. I hear a crunching sound and I panic. What the hell?

I turn in the lights quicker than the speed of light. I see blood all over the room, Grandma’s guts and blood spread all over the bed. But the most horrifying sight of them all, wasn’t the blood.

Nor was it the guts.

It was seeing Nicoletta, Caramella, and Sashaletta all gathered around my grandma. I always knew they had some mental health issues, let’s face it, we all do. But this?

This may have been the worst mistake of my life.