Guilty Intentions by Elisha Tahata

Senior Short Story entry

Jamie Drake pulled open the screen door of his brick-built house and walked in to face his daughter, Odyssey.
“Where have you been?” She demanded, her voice impatient. Her eyes were ablaze and Jamie had to resist the urge to run. His daughter was lethal when she was angry. She had her mother’s short, explosive temper. “Um…down at the pub with some mates”, Jamie lied, avoiding his daughter’s stare.

Odyssey’s bright green eyes burned through her father’s, searching for the truth.
She looked him up and down, and spotted something on his clothes. She took the hem of Jamie’s jacket between her fingers and he froze inside. Blood, Odyssey thought. Bright blood was soaked into his jacket. Her eyes found Jamie’s, and he recoiled. Her eyes were full of disgust, anger…hate.
“You’ve murdered again, haven’t you?” She accused, her hands balled into fists.
“N-n-no!” he stammered, thinking it was pathetic to be afraid of his own daughter. “I was at t-t-the p-p-pub-” “Don’t lie to me!” Odyssey interrupted, and her voice now rose to a crescendo. Jamie stumbled back, but she seemed to tower over him. “Tell me the truth, Jamie!” She demanded.
She never called Jamie “Dad” or “Father”, she didn’t like to address the fact that he was her father.
Jamie was suddenly overcome with a feeling of defeat, and he felt his resistance fading. Give it up mate, a teasing voice in his mind told him. She’ll find out anyway. “Yes, I did”, he admitted. Odyssey hit him. It was quick but brutal.
Jamie couldn’t believe he was accepting this sort of behaviour from his daughter.
Isn’t it the father who is supposed to discipline the child? He thought. It wasn’t suppose to be the reverse! But he didn’t dare challenge Odyssey; he knew she would win in the end. His cheek stung painfully, but he didn’t want her to know it hurt.
“You sick, mental man! What is your problem? Huh? Yeah, I know you lost Mum, and I’m aware you have…issues, but that’s no excuse for killing people!” she explained.
“You don’t understand, Odyssey, I-”“Don’t try explaining it to me! Don’t try to justify what you’ve done, okay? You have got to stop taking your anger out on people and grow up!” she scolded him. Jamie felt hot blood rushing to his face and suddenly he was angry. “You don’t know what my life is like, okay? You have-”“Oh boo hoo! Let’s all have a big cry!” she yelled. “You need help quickly, because if you keep on murdering “random” people you’ll lose everything!”
Jamie sighed, wanting the argument to end. He knew she was right, he knew what he was doing wasn’t right. It wasn’t…natural. But every time he saw a happy family, so content and oblivious to the struggles he was going through in his life, he became furious-it was like he didn’t have control of himself. He felt something pushing him to do what he was once against and he couldn’t stop.
When he watched his victims suffer he felt…satisfied, because they could feel his pain. They could understand it; and he was no longer alone.
“Jamie! Jamie, are you listening to me?” Odyssey snapped, tugging on his wrist. He blinked, sucked out of his thoughts. He nodded to answer her question.

“For once in that atypical world of your’s, Jamie, be a bloody man-instead of a coward-and take control of your life!” With that Odyssey turned and walked away, leaving her stunned father staring after her.

Odyssey collapsed into the comfort of her canopy bed and pulled the covers to her chin, tears cascading down her cheeks. Her sensations felt numb and her body was shaking. She was so confused. How could her father commit such a heinous crime? He was fun and compassionate; her father. Or at least he was like that, Odyssey thought, wiping the tears away. Now she wasn’t sure who he was.
When they had had that heated argument only minutes ago she had acted all tough and in command, but inside she was hurting.
When Odyssey was a little girl the two of them spent ages playing SCRABBLE. They ate bowls of ice cream together, they watched comedies together and spent endless hours laughing…they had been so close. And Odyssey told him everything. Her dreams/ambitions/innermost feelings/most embarrassing moments, and he always listened without interruption, without judging her.
Her father always understood her, and he was there for her when she needed him. Now everything is different, Odyssey thought, hugging her pillow to her chest.
Ever since the sudden death of Odyssey’s mother, the relationship between her father and her had changed drastically. Jamie had become indifferent, and withdrawn from her. No matter how much Odyssey tried she couldn’t reach her distraught father, she couldn’t comfort him despite how much she wanted to.
Odyssey could feel fresh tears welling up into her eyes, threatening to stream down her cheeks yet again. She wiped them away, letting her breath out with a quick, loud whooooosh. She wanted so much to believe her life was a dream, that she could wake up from the distress and the confusion to find her lively, ambitious mother still alive and to have her sane father back.
Huh, fat chance of that happening, Odyssey thought. Her life wasn’t a dream, honestly; it was just difficult, and pointless.
To sum how she felt up into two words they would be: Life sucks.


Mena Gianni pushed her long dark hair back from her face, her tears soaking into her skin. Two nights ago a man, surreptitious and agile, had slipped into the security of her home, and viciously murdered her parents. It was so random and…unexpected. Why? Mena asked herself. Why did this happen to her?
She had seen it. She had witnessed the murder of her parents. The pain, the suffering…but most of all she couldn’t forget the immense look of satisfaction in the murderer’s eyes; it was like their pain filled him with strong pleasure.
Mena was there. She could have stopped it; she could have interfered, done something, anything instead of just watching from behind the wall, too afraid to become involved. Her mother had (of course) put up a fight. She had been a stubborn and adamant woman. She never gave in without a fight.
Mena wiped the tears sliding down her cheeks away, but this proved futile because they kept coming and she couldn’t stop them. Before the death of her parents Mena’s life had been perfect. Okay, maybe not perfect, but close.
She had several friends, a supportive family, she was an A straight student…
Now she was just depressed and reticent.
Now all I have are Catherine and Zaude (Pronounced Zayde), Mena thought, and a feeling of love for her two younger siblings overcame her. They had witnessed the murder of their parents too, and they were only young. And innocent.
She knew the sight of their parents being beaten mercilessly would affect them for most of their life-or worse, forever-the whole situation would haunt them, compelling them to push others away, others who actually cared about them.
They’ll probably need therapy from this present year until they’re old, boring people, Mena thought, and the feeling made her heart sink because at that moment she realised her darling little brother and sister would go through life as struggling, misunderstood and possibly persecuted people.
At this Mena couldn’t help but burst into uncontrollable tears, unaware that Catherine and Zaude were watching from outside her door, upset to see their older, superior sister ‘bawling’ her eyes out, and screaming curses…

Zaude watched his older sister scream and cry, and his first thought was, Oh, for goodness sake, girls are such babies! But when he realised the reason to her fit was not because of another argument with her boyfriend over who was the better example to the junior students at school, he felt ashamed of his thoughts.
Of course she was sulking because of the murder of their parents, that was obvious when she started screaming curses like, “Stupid, ruthless man, how dare he think he can j-j-just…p-prance into our house and start attacking my parents! MY p-p-parents! T-t-the nerve of him!” And then she started throwing random objects at the wall, yelling and crying hysterically, until Zaude became so alarmed he had to rush forward, Catherine close behind him.
“Mena! Mena, snap out of it!” Zaude snapped. Geez, don’t be so unsympathetic, mate, you should know how she feels, a quiet voice in his mind told him.
Zaude ignored this, and pulled Mena down in between Catherine and him on the bed. “Mena, Mena, stop, it’s okay, we’re here for you”, he said, trying the sympathetic approach. He pulled her into a comforting embrace, and felt her sink into him. He felt…out of place. She was the oldest; she was supposed to be comforting him. Zaude knew that was selfish, but he couldn`t help feeling that way. Catherine gave her sister a quick hug before pulling away and giving Zaude a I-think-we-should-give-her-some-space look.
“No way, she’ll probably turn this room into a disaster”, Zaude mouthed back. Catherine rarely agreed with her brother but she knew he was right, so she just sat there, holding Mena’s hand in her own. This is so boring, Zaude thought, and he instantly felt ashamed.
“You guys are the best”, Mena said, and her shoulders slumped, and both Zaude and Catherine knew she had fallen into a deep sleep. Zaude carefully laid Mena onto the bed while Catherine pulled the covers over her. Catherine pushed her sister’s long hair back from her face, glancing up at Zaude.
“Do you think she’ll be okay?” she asked him. “Yeah, of course she’ll be okay. She’s asleep”, he replied. “I meant in general”, Catherine said, and her voice betrayed a hint of impatience. “I don’t know, and that’s what scares me”, Zaude said. They both stood there, staring at their sister, all sorts of thoughts spinning in their mind.
“Well, I think we should leave her for now, she needs to rest”, Catherine said, and she took Zaude`s hand, pulling him out with her.