Redemption

I can remember exactly when I found it and how it happened, I'm so grateful it did. My life was an unsteady rollercoaster that never seemed to end, I was stuck in a loop. I go back now and again to think about the choices I had to make, the lives that got in the way. I guess it's time to go back to where it all started, it's time to go home.

At eighteen years old I witnessed my father murder my mother and little brother. He meant to kill me as well but I got away before he had a chance. It was a murder-suicide, I think the inevitable reality of life got into his head and he couldn't take it anymore, that's my theory anyway. Nobody knew why he did what he did, but everyone hated him for it. Although at the time I didn't hate him and I still don't, he was my role model after all. When I was little I would shadow everything that he did, whether it be taking out the trash or hunting a dear in the woods, I'd be by his side every step of the way. Maybe that's why I turned out the way I did, but let's talk about that later.

I can remember every detail of the night he picked up his shot-gun and started shooting. These memories may haunt a normal person, but I've never been normal.

It was 11pm on Tuesday the 18th of July 1995, and Danny my little brother had fallen asleep on the couch next to me. I watched him. I found it fascinating watching people breathe, watching their chests move up and down ever so slightly. I especially liked when they missed a breath and it almost looked like they'd stop breathing altogether. It gave me a thrill.

My mother was sitting next to me, reading the latest issue of Hello magazine, I never understood why she liked reading that crap. It didn't teach her anything significant, it only fed her bullshit about celebrities.

My father was in his favourite recliner chair in the corner away from all of us. He liked it that way, he was never a family man. As soon as the credits started playing on the TV I felt a sudden dark shift in the air. It was as if evil just entered the room. I looked at my mother who was still reading that falsified magazine and then turned my glance over to my father's chair. He'd disappeared. I peered over my shoulder to see whether he was in the kitchen but I couldn't see nor hear him, he'd just vanished.

About three and a half minutes later I heard my father re-enter the house. By this point I'd gotten up from the couch and headed into my room, that's when I heard him screaming. It was a scream I'd never heard before, a deep sorrowful scream. Then the sound of a gunshot filled my ears. All the hairs on my body stood up and I felt the familiar feeling of goosebumps take over my skin. Maybe an animal got into the house? I tried to think of anything but the worst. I ran to my door and peered down the corridor and that's when I saw what I didn't want to see. My father standing in the corridor, holding his shotgun. The gun looked ever so familiar, it was the one we'd used countless times out hunting, he knew it was my favourite. I didn't have time to think before I saw him lift and aim the gun.

"Daddy, what're you doing?" Danny's voice was shaky and unbearable to listen too. I wanted to tell him that everything's going to be ok and I almost ran to him but I was too late, the gun went off for the second time. That was the last time I heard Danny's innocent voice.

I panicked, slammed my door and ran to the window. As I was opening it I could hear my father making his way up the hallway. He was coming for me. I could hear my heart beating and nearly exploding through my chest. I almost made it out before he got to my room, but I wasn't quick enough. I heard my door slowly creak open and that's when I saw him covered in blood, my families blood.

My body was positioned halfway between freedom and almost certain death, but I was still. I couldn't move no matter how hard I tried. All I could focus on was my fathers face, it was unrecognizable. He didn't say anything but instead just stared back with these empty threatening eyes. At that moment I saw how old and frail he'd become, he wasn't the father that I'd loved when I was a child, he hadn't been for a long time. We just all ignored him for years until finally, he broke.

I watched his arms slowly raise the gun. The gun I'd raised many times before, was now pointing at me. My father didn't hesitate in pulling the trigger and that's when I felt a completely unknown type of pain. A burning sensation made its way up my leg and overtook my body. I cried out but my father didn't stop to think about shooting me again. Although this time he needed to reload and I knew it was my last chance to escape. I forced my body to fall through the window and onto the grass below.

The smell of gunpowder and blood overwhelmed me but I had no time to spare. I could hear my father reload and walk towards the window. He was in no rush to get me, it was as if he was giving me a chance to run which is exactly what I did. My leg felt as if it was no longer attached to my body but I knew if I stopped I'd die. I tried not to look back but I had to, my father was positioned in my window with the gun pointed at me. He shot again but missed, and that's when he shouted his final words.

"IT'S INSIDE OF YOU TOO."

I stopped running and witnessed my father turn the gun on himself. I have flashbacks of this moment daily, it's been permanently sewn into my memory. He wasn't scared, his facial expression was completely blank. When he pulled the trigger the walls of my bedroom were no longer white, they'd never be the same colour again.

I blacked out from blood loss after my father killed himself. Luckily we didn't live far from the next house and they heard everything, every gunshot. I didn't lose my leg but I was permanently left with a limp.

The news of my families deaths spread quickly. Everyone seemed to care for a little while. Since I was over 18 I legally could take care of myself and had no other family to turn too. Nobody helped me, everyone forgot about me. I spent years homeless, living from bench to bench, hoping somebody would notice, but nobody ever did. I felt completely alone and isolated from the rest of the world. I thought after what I went through that somebody would come and save me but I was wrong. The world only looked out for itself.

When the anniversary of the 'incident' came around I visited the house where it all happened. The house where I grew up and became who I am now in, my home. I'd watch the family who'd moved in not long after the shootings, I guess they wanted to grab a bargain. I watched them sit where we sat, I watched their children play where Danny and I played, and I watched the parents make love like mine never did. I became infatuated with their lives and why they got to live so happily. Why did they get a happily ever after where my family died? Why did they deserve it and my family didn't?

Over the years I watched them, I saw their perfect lives unravel. The husband cheating on his wife, the kids who were now teenagers and sneaking out at night. They were ruining their own happily ever after and they didn't even care. They took this from my family and they needed to pay for what they did.

I started to practice at night. How I would do it, what I would use, and most importantly who's to go first. The first place was always special. It signified who deserved it most. My father chose my mother because she never paid attention to him and she ruined our family, not him. After weeks of practicing on trees, I realized it wasn't enough and I had to advance.

I chose my first victim simply by following her. She lived a good life, wealthy, beautiful, and important. She took her life for granted so I made sure she knew this before I beat it out of her. She died quicker than I expected but from this experience, I learned that beating wasn't the way to go. It was too slow, too emotional.

The next few months I practiced different techniques. I found whoever deserved to die and simply helped them find peace. I began to believe I was God and that peoples lives were in my hands. I decided who lived and who died, and a lot of them died until finally, I was ready.

On the 19th of July 2005, ten years after my families deaths, it was time. Nobody cared about me after I saw my whole family butchered, and now they'll pay. Lives shouldn't be taken for granted and I determine who lives and who dies. God lives inside me. Once the clock finally struck 11pm I grabbed my shotgun, which I'd stolen from a previous victim and made my way into MY home.

They were all asleep so I made sure to be extra loud when entering. They needed to feel the way I felt when I heard that first gunshot ten years ago. The cheating husband was the first to great me. I watched his eyes widen as he looked at my gun and then into my eyes. I didn't delay in shooting him three times until I had to reload. He was the reason this family had failed.

I heard the kids and mother screaming as I walked up the hallway to their rooms. I kicked down the door to my parent's old bedroom but it was empty, and that's when I heard the window being opened. The same window I'd used to escape my father was being used to escape from me. As I reloaded I ran to the front door and around to the back of the house. I saw them as they saw me, they screamed. The mother begged me not too, but that only made me want to do it more. I shot her children first before turning the gun on her, she cowered over her children's lifeless bodies. She looked me in the eyes as I pulled the trigger, I felt nothing for her.

I knew the police would be on their way but I didn't run. This was the moment I'd been waiting for, it was my redemption. I dragged their inanimate bodies inside and placed them next to one another in the living room, where my family had perished. I lied in the middle of them and felt their blood slowly surround my body.

I breathed in my final breath as I had finally found peace. Peace in their blood, the blood of the ungrateful. I finished my fathers work and now, someone will finish mine.

Until next time,

Meliss

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