User:Beautiful-Morgan

I really don't want to talk about what happened there, or why I wound up doing what I did. Like, mainly, I think I don't want to make excuses, because my actions? You can't forgive something like that. But I guess avoiding the subject won't make it any better, so I'll tell you if you don't tell anyone else. My name is Morgan, and I just murdered my grandfather. Don't call the police, please! I promise there's a reason behind all of this, and I promise you'll see my reasoning  by the time I'm done talking. I mean, you promised not to tell, right? Please just let me explain my side of things. Let me start by saying I wasn't trying to kill him, I was trying to get away from him. Looking at us in the woods, you'd probably think we were a normal grandfather with his grandkid, no red flags going off. But grandpa was a sketchy motherfucker. He kind of looked like your stereotypical abductor- balding, a huge gut, dark rings under his eyes from doing who knows what instead of sleeping. Ever since I was a baby, being around him freaked me out. Mom always promised that he loved me and would never hurt me, but I thought she was full of shit. Turns out, I was right. It happened really fast. We were SUPPOSED to be going on a fishing trip, and he kept saying how cute I was in my dad's old fishing hat. It'd have been normal if he said it once, but as soon as we got on the boat, he started going on about it. It was really kind of creepy and weird, and at this point, alarms were going off for me. And then he shifted from cute to beautiful. I don't like being called beautiful, the word sounds too hollow or even kind of fake. I can handle being called pretty, cute, or anything else, but beautiful was never a good word for me. Most of the people in my family know that, but  I still ignored him, hoping he'd stop. That's when he grabbed my chest. Now, I want to put this in perspective- I'm around 210 lbs, and he was 672 at the time, and I'm not very strong. If a wave didn't hit the boat and knock us off balance, I could've been raped right then and there. Since he was off balance, I saw my chance and took it- I rammed into him as hard as I could, knocking him off the boat. Now, it was a motor boat, as neither of us had the patience for real boats, so my next action... that's when it gets unforgivable. I frantically pulled on the motor as Grandpa swam up to the ship, and finally, it started. But when it did, he stopped. As the boat moved when he stopped, I couldn't see all the details, but I felt blood fleck my face, and I saw the water go red with it. Pretty soon, he bobbed in the water for a bit before sinking down under, leaving me alone. Stopping the boat was easy enough, as dad had taught me so many years ago, but the weight of my actions was... pretty fucking heavy. I mean, the man was around eighty, so his time couldn't have been that far off, right? I tried to justify it whatever way I could... But you can't say something like that was right, could you? I don't know what to think. If you're expecting some twist where it turns out I like killing... Well, you're not getting it. Killing grandpa didn't awaken a sleeping maniac in me, it actually did the opposite. Whenever I think of what happened, the small bit of blood that got on me, the propeller getting almost jammed with his flesh, I feel like puking. I don't know what'll happen to me now, or if you WILL tell... One thing I do know, however, is that I'm never going fishing ever again.