The All-Seeing Eyes

Chapter 12

Unknown POV

I've lived on the outskirts of Rachdale for many years. Playing soccer with my friends and finding images in the clouds were my happiest memories. Their positive impact made them feel priceless. Little did I know, how fast it would come crashing down. Moments that you value are temporary. Enjoy each day that goes by or every year that passes because you can't predict how long the moment will last.

My Mom died of a malignant tumor in her brain when I was seventeen years old. She was a carpenter who built our home from the ground up and specialized in renovations. My Mom took care of the house like it was her first child. Then I came along to share and benefit from the home that this woman had looked after for years. I always took each day for granted, believing that everyone woke up tomorrow and that your body strengthened in traumatic times.

My Dad worked to benefit the world around him. We shared an inextinguishable desire for getting the best medical treatment for Mom. Except, Dad was unable to function without her.

A year into her treatment, he lost his job at a downtown botanical research facility because of all the time he took off to be with her. When Dad ran out of money to pay for Mom's care, that's when I stepped in. All of my savings went into helping her recuperate. I spent mornings with my bedroom door locked, doing assignments for online high school classes and Dad would keep an eye on her for any signs of improvement. Nights were my time to administer Mom's medication. Every day I wondered how she could sleep not knowing the next day would be the same or harder than the last. Needless to say: I didn't get much sleep.

However, all our efforts to keep Mom in good health were in vain. Her hair fell out and a weaker version of the woman I knew struggled to get by. No amount of treatment could return her stamina or optimistic personality. It hurts to think that weeks by her bedside couldn't give her the strength she needed to survive. I was naïve to blame the doctors for not doing more. If they had, then maybe she would still be with us.

After my savings ran out, I looked for a stable job and explored many different types of work fields. Construction wasn't for me. I fell seventy-five feet off a high rise building during my first day on the job. Balancing on the outer frame while carrying wood isn't as easy as it looks. This resulted to fractures in both of my legs. Then there was the bartending job. Unfortunately, I didn't have a degree in mixology, but the restaurant was anxious to fill the position. Six people left the bar in ambulances during my third day. I guess I went a little too high on the grenadine. Things couldn't possibly get worse. I quit that job after giving a two days' notice.

One night, I was walking home from the restaurant and got a text from an unknown number. The anonymous person offered me seven hundred dollars if I got rid of a dead body. The location was attached. I made sure to get a trash bag before visiting the place and disposing of it in a small landfill. The next day, the person offered one thousand dollars if I would kill someone. Naturally, I didn't want to go through with it, but there were no other options.

I worked with him for a year. That's longer than I had ever expected to. Each murder became easier to cover up and plan. Soon, however, he wanted to meet in person. I agreed to it, not knowing that my Mom would die in her sleep that night. Dad called to inform me and I broke down in tears. I tried to get out of our deal now that I didn't need the extra money, but my client had other plans.

He was very reasonable when I told him what had happened. Instead of firing me, the man introduced himself for the first time as Hellion and bought a house in Alderdeen for my Dad and I. If I continued doing this job, then he could guarantee that the facility my Dad used to work for would be under new management. I foolishly took the deal to gain another's happiness. Dad got re-hired and received higher pay than from his previous position a week later.