THINKING CAN BE MURDER

I stared at the figure lying in the road. The ambulance had been called for, and the driver was babbling incoherently to the police, saying: "she just ran out into the road, I couldn't do anything..."
One of the policewoman saw me and asked: "Did you see what happened? Do you know the victim?"
"Yes," I replied. "She is my mother. We were having a silly argument, and she ran out of the house."
"Okay, what is her name? What is your name...?"

My name is Christina Smith. For many, many years now, I have been able to make people do what I want. Not through manipulation, you understand, but through thought-power. I don't mean to do it deliberately, it usually happens whenever I get mad at someone, or someone is shouting at me. For example, one time, a teacher at school was laying into me, just because I'd got the answer to a question wrong. All I did was think: "Go and smack your head on the blackboard, you witch." And suddenly, she did exactly that.
Have you ever seen the movie "Carrie"? Well, she had a special power that she used to her own advantage, only one day, she took it too far. Well, that's what I did. After I found out about my 'special' power - back when I didn't mean to use it - I started to use it deliberately. Whenever anyone made me mad - like the teacher who laid into me about the wrong answer - I would think: "Smack your head against the wall," and they would do that. Well, I did that once. My friend, Alicia, was getting picked on by this big girl named Kelly Allen, and I thought she should get a taste of her own medicine. After a minute, poor Kelly Allen couldn't understand what was going on.
But I've never used my power to kill. I mean, that's just monstrous. Sure, I've thought about it, but that's stooping really, really low.
But enough of that. I am going to tell you the day my mum got murdered. By me. But it wasn't deliberate. If I confessed everything to the police, they would call it manslaughter.
It started one day in the summer holidays. Quite early in the morning, in fact. Mum had woken up on the wrong side of bed, and was feeling grouchy; she didn't exactly know why. I was in the kitchen making myself a cup of tea, when she walked in. I got another cup to make her a coffee, and she yelled that she can manage, she wasn't a total invalid.
I'd sighed to myself, making Mum apologise, she'd woken up grouchy, but wasn't sure why. Then I reminded her she was giving me a lift into town, to meet my friends. And that's when it started...
"Christina! I am not giving you a lift into town today!"
"But Mum, I asked you on Tuesday, and you said it was okay with you."
"Well, I don't remember that. But I do remember saying that II would give you a lift into town if you knew how you were getting back home."
"Yes, and then I told you that Marina's dad would be dropping all of us back home."
"Well, I don't remember you saying that."
"Well, I did say that. It probably went through one ear and out the other, Mum."
Mum glared at me. That was one of her favourite phrases that she liked saying to me, but clearly, I wasn't allowed to say it.
"Don't you take that tone with me, young lady! Right, just for that, I shan't be taking you to town..."
I stared at her, flabbergasted. I couldn't believe she was denying my right to spend Saturday afternoon with my mates, when it's something every single teenage girl in the entire world has to do.
I crossed my arms and glared at her. And that's when it happened. The Horror. For suddenly, without meaning to, I found myself thinking: "oh, I wish you would run into the road and die!"
Mum stopped glaring back at me, she ran past me, and headed for the front door. I realised what was going on, and tried to stop her, but I was too late. I heard the screech of brakes, and a high-pitched scream. And Mum was no more...

"My name's Christina Smith," I told the policewoman. "My mum was called Lana Smith."
"Okay, Christina, this may be a bit of a shock for you. Would you like to go back into your house with me?"
"I want to come to the hospital," I said.
"No, sweetie, I'm afraid you can't do that, It may be a bit traumatising for you."
'Oh, God,' I thought to myself. 'I wish I was dead.'
I looked across the street. The kids who lived across from us had been riding on their bikes, and were now looking at the commotion. But now they'd started fighting about something the younger boy had.
"Give it here, Tommy!" The older brother was bellowing. "It's glass, it's dangerous." He wrestled it from his brother's grasp, and threw it. I watched something hurtle towards me. I couldn't duck quick enough. I felt something sharp and cold embedded in my chest...