Children's Ballet Shoes

Jacqueline's life flashed before my eyes Terse. I saw the little girl in pink frilly dresses in the photos of his house. I saw his intuition and his young beautiful smile. I saw her being held by his mother, never knowing where his life was going. I've seen in the videos I found that one afternoon in his living room so long ago. Her voice was the most beautiful children and she loved to watch the clouds.
She was wearing a bright blue silk dress, with a stake corresponding arc length of his hair size in a ponytail. She was lying on his back in a middle of a huge field of wildflowers. The sun shone and shone out of his shiny dark blue patent leather shoes. His eyes gazed at the endless white puffy clouds, his face caught between fear and intrigue.
She watched quietly as long. His mind seemed to be in another world, a world unknown to the adult eye. She was in the world of childhood. Although his mind was probably fly in the sky with Peter Pan, he was still in the body that meadow picture perfect.
Suddenly, his little hand drawn and pointed out the sky with a big smile. His mouth made laugh the most heartbreaking and bounced a little. "Look, Mom," she said. "I see a bird chase a butterfly in a maze of daisies! You can not see? They are so pretty! And the willow, there! The monkeys are dancing in it! They have great fun. I want to be there! It would be wonderful to be a butterfly ... His voice faded and she began to hum a melody Bel Di from Madame Butterfly.
How is a child of seven years, knew this song, I still wonder about, but it was not the most amazing part. She danced on his feet and turned around and around gracefully. His snoring loud and she writhed with pleasure fascinated. Her eyes jumped from one thing to another in the wonder of art. The girl child was not the slightest idea of types that you see in most kids, but anyway, it had reached a maturity that allowed him to understand things at a maximum.
His ballet was a perfectly accurate and humming turned into singing. This delicate voice knew all the words of the song and was perfectly accented Italian words. She has sung in Italian and translated into English. His voice rose and the precise timing and the soprano was comforting.
"Pretty girl, her mother whispered behind the camera." Pretty, smart girl. "
Her mother had it all wrong. It was not pretty, she was beautiful. Even at seven, she was beautiful. And she was not intelligent, it was inhuman intelligence.
She did a little more spins before falling gently in the flowers, gently leaning forward to smell the aroma beautiful. She sighed, then dropped back, her eyes flying to the clouds. Baby Jacqueline fell in this movement, the silent state and found pictures in the clouds that no one else could, as she flew by them in a world I no longer understood.
She had grown up after the video had ended. I had seen pictures of this beautiful girl as she reached slayerhood and transformed, without knowing it. I had seen with his coach and graduation from high school. After graduating college and her first serious boyfriend are also things that I learned to know.
I've known. I knew so well. I knew that. I knew that and did what I did.
What brought me back to reality. Reality. A reality where I killed this beautiful little black-haired child. I was a monster. I really was. But I did not, the murderer was. But this was not an excuse. It was me.

I found this piece very well written until I'm at the end of the penultimate paragraph - when it happens "slayerhood" and what follows.

until the point that you have written a fascinating piece that holds the attention of readers - that you get.