This will be a character for a new book I am working on. Something dark and devious.
Fingers pointing across the playground, the kids stood there watching as the small bird laid dying. The head gone, Balery had done it again, and this time in front of the entire 6th-grade class. Her hand turned slowly as she watched little the other children gasp in fits of horror. She was squeezing the contents of the small sparrow onto the ground below. Each plop of internal organs forced her to giggle in approval. It wasn’t the first time she set the stage for nightmares and screams, but it was the last for some.
“Balery O’Callaghan, to the Head Masters office, NOW,” screamed the instructor.
With a blank stare, the young girl dropped the bird, wiped her blood-stained hands down her pink frock, and trotted off to the one place everyone knew her name—the office. She was so much a regular that the office staff had set a small chair in the corner for her to wait for her next round of punishment.
In the oversized doorway, her punishment loomed. The HeadMaster was a big man. Towering over her at 6ft 5 inches, one would think the young eleven-year-old girl would run in fear. Not Balery. Another reason they called her little crazy Balery.
“You did it again, child? You will never learn, will you?” he said. HeadMaster Fitzpatrick had spent more time with this child than any other in the history of his career. He reached out as she walked into the spacious office, grabbing her by the sleeve and slamming the door behind her. He could hear mumbles from the other side of the door, but he would deal with that later.
“What in heavens name possessed you to kill that helpless bird? Haven’t you caused enough distress on your poor teacher,” he asked.
“I didn’t like the say it looked at me. It was rabid,” Balery laughed.
Head Master Fitzpatrick stood in disbelief. It was the first time she used this story. He often wondered if she kept a Rolodex of reasons why she would abuse others. “So you killed it because you didn’t like its face? And my dear child, fowl do not become rabid. We discussed that in class if you would bother to listen,” he scolded. “Lift the frock and bend over the desk. You will get your punishment in the form of a spanking. I’ve had enough of this nonsense,” he demanded.
Balery watched the man get worked up. Her eyes dead to feelings, she smirked when the little veins in his forehead pulsated with anger. Crossing her legs, one over the other, her Maryjane shoe bounced from the tips of her toes. She wasn’t moving. Not this time, at least.
Frustrated, the headmaster grabbed her by the back of her dress, yanked her up, and forced her to lean over the desk. He outweighed her by at least fourteen stone.
“Do you know who my Da is, Fitzpatrick? Do ya?” Balery asked. “Before ya spank my arse, remember this, My Da is the head of the NIRA, and if ya fuck with his daughter, you fuck with him. Remember that,” she warned.
That was her last day in that school. The next, it would level to the ground in a horrifying explosion. A gas leak was the cause, or so they say. Only Balery knew the truth.