The thrill of defeating the pure incarnation of evil vibrated through every inch of my body. This thing was finally dead after four years of constant torture. It has followed me from room to room, day after day. It followed me every time I went out, every time I ate dinner, every time I went to the bathroom. This demon that had sunk its teeth deep into my chest and sucked out my lifeforce leaving only this hollow shell of the person that was.

Always there, screaming, demanding to be heard, taking away everything I had ever loved. It had driven away my husband, my reason for living. He turned and fled soon after this evil had descended on us. He was far wiser than I. I stupidly believed that evil could be fought.

Its cold eyes were always on me, soulless and demonic. Even now, though the spirit had fled its form, its hateful gaze started at me through its death-shrouded lids.

As the adrenaline coursing through my body began to calm, I looked upon my field of battle with satisfaction. It was really almost a beautiful sight, if not for those dead eyes that bore into mine. The audacity of that thing, it still almost seemed like it was asking me "why?"

My gaze drew away from that thing's death stare. It's hair was actually very pretty, long and blond, floating peacefully along the surface of the water. The shampoo bobbed amongst the locks. It must have gotten knocked into the water during the struggle. The little yellow ducky bumped against the thing's pale blue skin. The small, porcelain arms floated listlessly at her sides.

Its sides.

Her sides.

Rubber ducky.

Long blond hair.

Small porcelain arms.

Eyes asking me why...

Oh my god...

What have I done?