She’d smile pretty and tell them she did it to save Mrs. Danforth’s vegetable garden.
And they’d believe her, her aunt and uncle would, because they didn’t know the way her mother had. (Mother was no longer a problem. The spanking had been the older woman’s last act in soooo many ways.)
They’d just cuddle her and bundle her off to a hot bath and bring her cookies and milk in bed, and take her clothes to be cleaned.
They wouldn’t notice that there was blood spray. She’d tell them she strangled the poor thing.
And they’d believe her.
They always did.
And all she had to do was smile.