My family are trying to kill me

Dear Diary,

They are trying to kill me. I know it. Today, we were sat at dinner and my granddaughter had made a lasagne. I tucked into my food, minding my own business when my daughter Claudia, shoved my chair. And when I say shoved, she damn well kicked the leg expecting it to just collapse beneath me. Fortunately, my guard was already up and I grabbed onto the table with both hands. ‘Oops, sorry! Tripped!’ She just said before continuing back to her seat. The bitch. My family are supposed to love me and yet here I am fighting for my life every day in this damned house. At least I have you. My little black book.

At first, I thought having a diary was an odd thing to do, something teenagers did. But my therapist recommended it and said I should report back to her next week with what I have written down. Claudia got me the therapist. Said I was getting too paranoid in my old age and that apparently I’ve been diagnosed with PPD. Whatever that means. They’re just hiding the fact that it’s true, it’s all bloody true. And the therapist will know this when I give her this book.

Anyways, it’s 9pm and I’ve locked my door so I can sleep somewhat peacefully. Tomorrow, I’m going to escape. And you’re coming with me.

Dear Diary,

It’s 8am. I had packed my bags and was all ready to leave when Claudia bloody well started knocking on the door, trying to open the door, causing a right bloody fuss asking me what the hell I was doing in there and what all the banging about was. Eventually, I unlocked the door and told her I was just doing my morning exercise and then she storms in and sees the bag. She tried to take it and I stepped on her bare toe and told her if she touches that bag, I’ll kill her. And I mean it. I know this’ll get me in trouble even just writing about it, but I need to prove to you what a living nightmare this house is. She told me to unpack and stormed back out. Seeing as she was up and about, I realised the escape would have to wait until tomorrow. Plus, she’d seen that the bag was stuffed with money, so now she knows where it is. I quickly shoved the blocks of notes back under the mattress where I knew it’d be safe. Then, just in case, I shoved a few in my shoes, in the pockets of my clothes in the wardrobe and some under my dresser.

You see now why I’m under threat? They know I’m rich. They know I’ve been hoarding this money away for years, that I’ve been saving this for a rainy day. Well, they’re not getting their filthy paws on it. Twenty thousand dollars I have here. I know because I count it every day. And they want it. They know it won’t be theirs until I’m dead in my grave. You can’t trust anyone when they know you have money.

Dear Diary,

Today’s the worst it’s ever been. I know it’s because Claudia got a whiff of those notes when she barged into my room. Just seeing it made her bloodthirsty. How have I raised such a horrible daughter?

It was today when we all went for a walk. I made sure I was the last to leave the house so nobody was going to run back to my room and start hunting for the money. It was Claudia, her two children and her husband, Derek. We were walking along the river and I could swear on Jesus that Derek tried to knock my cane from under me. I nearly damn well slipped into the river but luckily I grabbed on to their youngest child, Camilla and then Claudia grabbed Camilla so it was like one big chain preventing me from falling in. I started yelling bloody murder at Derek, saying how dare he kick my cane let alone even so much as touch it. Claudia tried to calm me down by saying the cane slipped on the mud. She must think I’m a fool to believe that one. I demanded we go back home and I went straight to my room. These people think they can fool me, well it’ll take a lot more than that.

Dear Diary,

My family are trying to kill me. It happened at dinner when my daughter’s oldest walked past my chair and tried to kick it as though it would collapse from under me. Well, luckily, I grabbed onto the table with both hands and steadied myself. She muttered a sorry, almost sounding embarrassed. Well, she should be embarrassed. Trying to kill her only grandmother. I tell you why they’re trying to kill me. It’s because they know about the money. The stashes I keep in my room, under the mattress. It’s only under the mattress though, I must remember to spread it around the room so it’s harder to find. Twenty thousand dollars I have up there. All my own hard earned cash that I have saved for a rainy day. And I don’t want those evil bastards to see a penny of it.

Dear Diary,

You won’t believe what I just heard. I went downstairs to get a glass of milk and I know Claudia must have heard my creaking down the stairs when I passed her and Derek’s room because she started fake crying, loud enough for me to hear, saying my paranoia was getting worse and that the dementia was coming back. This is gaslighting. I know it is. Acting like I’m the crazy one when they’re the ones trying to kill me. Well, I won’t fall for it. I know what they want from me. I have to escape, tomorrow, or I may not make it out of here alive.

Dear Diary,

It’s getting worse. I’ve never been so scared in my life. Last night, I woke up and Camilla was standing at the end of my bed, watching me. Waiting for her perfect moment to strike. I started screaming and screaming until she panicked and ran back out the room. I don’t know what kind of method she was planning to use on me but fortunately, I scared her off before she could. I must have forgotten to lock the door. I’m terrified. I need this notebook to be found and read as soon as possible, I need my therapist to see this. I only have a few more days of survival before I can show her this and prove they need to take me away from here, that my life is on the line.

Dear Diary,

I’m writing this with my hands shaking. Derek made me a tea this morning and I saw him drop white powder into it. I smelt the tea and it smelled like acid. I shoved it over, the tea spilling everywhere and I could see the acid burning into the table top making the wood smoke. I started screaming at Derek that he tried to poison me and Claudia came in trying to calm me down, all the while Derek saying, ‘it was only sugar!’ Bloody liars, the lot of them.

Dear Diary,

If you are reading this, then I am probably already dead. My family have killed me because I have twenty thousand dollars stashed under my mattress. Arrest them. Immediately. Confiscate that money, I have been murdered. I have NOT died of old age, that is what they will try to tell you. I have been brutally murdered. Get that family in jail immediately.

Dear Diary,

This is it. This is how I die. There’s no getting out of this one. The chances of me making it are slim, so, to whomever is reading this, please refer to the diary entry before this one, it explains everything. The whole family are outside my door, banging away. It’s midnight. The doorknob is rattling. They’ve decided enough is enough, they’re going to tie me down and poison me, something that won’t leave a scratch so nobody will question my death. But it is not of age, reader, I have been murdered. I have not

Claudia closes the little black notebook. Her diamond ring glisten in the afternoon sun and her manicured nails gently hold the faux leather in her thin hands. She looks past the cover and down at her mother’s grave. She sighs. She throws the book into the casket before it is closed. Claudia turns to Derek. He’s watching her, a glint in his eyes.

‘So, where does she say it is?’ He murmurs to her, so softly only she could hear.

‘Under the mattress apparently. Some in her shoes and wardrobe.’ Claudia take a hold of her husband’s cold hand and they walk back to the car after waving goodbye to teary relatives.

Once they get home, she informs the children and they all run to their grandmother’s now empty room, frantically pushing their grubby hands into the pockets of clothes and tipping shoes upside down, waiting for something to fall out. Claudia patiently and gently lifts up the mattress. Laying there on the wooden panels are stacks of money. The bright green colour of wealth and fortune lit up her hollow eyes as she grabbed a pack, mustering all the strength she had not to just rub it on her face. She inhales, flicking through the notes, a sinister smile sitting unpleasantly on her thin face.

‘Darling,’ she turns to Derek.

‘Yes, dear?’ He responds, that same smile creeping on his lips in return.

‘Shall we go to the bank?’

‘Let’s.’

The family get back in the car and drive to the bank, wads of cash stacked in a bag. Just enough to claim it as inheritance and just enough so the rest could be untaxed. Once they arrived they all get out of the car, their bodies electric with energy and excitement. Claudia was already thinking of the new jewellery she wanted, envisioning herself dripping in diamonds and glittering like a Mediterranean ocean at sunset. Derek was thinking of his new car, that white Audi sports that he was going to rock up to work in. The kids were thinking about the video games they could get, the new shoes and phones that would make them the talk of the school. Claudia saunters into the bank, her heels clicking on the floor as she lifts her sunglasses.

‘Hi, I’d like to cash this in.’ She arrogantly dumps the bag on the desk. The banker gestures for her to slide a pack of notes under the screen and she obliges. The banker takes a moment to flick through and inspect the cash.

‘I’m sorry ma’am, but these notes have been out of date since 1991. They should’ve been exchanged years ago.’

Claudia’s blood curdling scream could be heard from her mother’s grave.