In Loving Memory
I was 3 years old when my parents were murdered.
Thankfully, being that young, I was aware enough to see what was going on, but not quite aware enough to retain all the gory details. All I remember is hiding under a desk in the corner, a big shadow looming over my parents, and two bangs. Then black. I closed my eyes and scrunched further into my corner.
Most of what I know about that night I was told by my remaining family, mostly my uncle, who gained custody of me afterwards. The older I got, the more I wanted to know, so I could better take my revenge. Now, at 18, I know that is unlikely. All that is known about the killer is that he was never caught, and it's highly likely that if he learns about my presence, my life will be in grave danger. But that won't stop me from trying.
Nothing will.
Thankfully, being that young, I was aware enough to see what was going on, but not quite aware enough to retain all the gory details. All I remember is hiding under a desk in the corner, a big shadow looming over my parents, and two bangs. Then black. I closed my eyes and scrunched further into my corner.
Most of what I know about that night I was told by my remaining family, mostly my uncle, who gained custody of me afterwards. The older I got, the more I wanted to know, so I could better take my revenge. Now, at 18, I know that is unlikely. All that is known about the killer is that he was never caught, and it's highly likely that if he learns about my presence, my life will be in grave danger. But that won't stop me from trying.
Nothing will.