In this female dramatic monologue, JASMINE talks to her best friend about the trouble she’s having with her daughter Emily.
JASMINE: That’s an evil child right there…no, no…shhh. We need to talk quietly incase she hears us, the little anti-christ. I know, I know I sound like a rotten mother, having birthed that little venom but you don’t understand. I’m not a rotten mother…listen…it started one day about a year ago. I was doing some house chores when I happened to walk past her room. As I walked by I peaked in on her, just to check up on her as she was playing house with her Barbie’s. But as I started to go back to what I was doing, I overheard something. Are you ready? I overheard my daughter tell Barbie that she was going to light her up on fire and watch her burn a miserable death. I kid you not! At first I thought my ears were playing tricks on me…but they weren’t because that’s when I listened intently. And that’s when I watched her begin smashing Barbie’s face into the master bedroom of her doll house. It was so vicious and angry. I stepped into her room and said, “Emily, is everything alright dear?” And she smiled up at me and said, “Yes, mommy, everything is wonderful.” I asked her what the noise was, that I heard banging. And she said she didn’t hear nothing at all. We just exchanged stares and it made the hair on my arms rise up.
Ever since then I’ve kept a close watch on her to see if I catch anymore sudden outbursts. I don’t see things but I hear things. Just the other day she was singing and jumping and dancing around the living room and she was singing what sounded like the most adorable rhyme but it wasn’t! When I listened in on the words, she was singing, (singing) “Kill everybody, it’s missile time, missile time, missile time, kill everybody it’s missile time, all day long.” And of course, I questioned her and she changed the words instantly.
So there. Either I have a wicked imagination or that child is the devil reincarnate. I shouldn’t speak like that about my child but it’s not normal. Something needs to be done. I haven’t told Jeff (her husband) yet either. I don’t want him to think I’m a terrible mother but this is something I’ve never even heard of and I think I need to take her to a doctor. I’m not sure where to begin because, let’s say I do take her to a doctor, I’m afraid that that action will spark something far worse in her, sort of like make her more conscientious of her behavior. Not sure what I should do.
What do you think? Should I take her to see a specialist? Maybe I need a specialist…