Facade | Near

Prologue

Prologue

"Our life is like a dice, you can never predict what comes next." Words lingered in my mind. Sighing as I remembered the words of my once living father. I prepared myself for another day of my life. The same people, doing the same things. The same faces, the same names, the same personalities.

I pushed myself upwards, standing up and walking away from my father's tombstone. It was strange that on the thirteenth day of every month, there would always be a jar of strawberry jam appearing on his grave. I was cautious at first, yet I paid no mind as if it was a very normal thing. I can still remember his death clearly like a series of events. You can't just forget the corpse of your father laying on the ground, can you?

He was my best friend, my only supporter, the only one who appreciates everything I have done just for the sole purpose of strengthening my fading bond with my family. Yet, I always get the same bugging feeling that he was not supposed to be there, that he wasn't supposed to be supporting me.

"I'm home," I called out quite blankly, but there was happiness laced on my voice as I slowly walked my way inside the house. I didn't bother to knock seeing as the door was slightly ajar. A rare sight. I was ready to tell him about my day, about how I got a perfect score on my worst subject when the sight of him caught my eyes. 

Blood.

Real blood was splattered against the walls. My father's body had been stabbed, over and over again. The kind of stabbing where pure hatred was forced on. My eyes widened and a scream was heard throughout the whole neighborhood, it did not take even a second for myself to realize that I was screaming. My poor nine-year-old self ran to him and tried to wake him up, but despite my huge denial, I knew he was gone. I knew he was murdered and that he can never come back. I always understood the heavy importance of life and death, the lie of living and the truth of dying, a trait in which most 9-year olds do not seem to possess. 

There were no traces. No traces of the culprit, not even a sign that he fought back. There was nothing. Just a plain, old murder scene in which the only difference it makes is the lack of proof that someone even murdered him, other than the unfortunate situation he was placed on.

'I dislike humans. They killed my father.' was a thought that consumed you in the early stages of life. Nevertheless, according to you- you're just another pathetic human being. Since that day, you grew a small dislike to humans. Of course, you knew you're a human being yourself- which makes it better considering you didn't have an ego that reaches the sun. You weren't the one to contemplate whether you like yourself or not. 

Another trait most 9-year olds do not seem to possess.