Returning Revenge

Returning Revenge

Prologue

That night so long ago echoes through my mind, continuously haunting me. I remember every detail, every little sound. It will not go away nor do I want it to. This memory keeps me going; it pumps the blood through my veins telling me I can't rest until I bring justice to all those who dare kill a family like the one who killed mine.

 

I was little.

It was the day after my birthday. I had just turned seven and I was enjoying my presents that I had received from my parents the night before: the stuffed bear, the small tea set, and my new dress. My family wasn't rich but it wasn't poor either. Mom wanted me to learn that I shouldn't be attached to so many worldly things. So I never got that much for my birthday or Christmas, but that never bothered me. I didn't mind having fewer things than my friends.

Soon my mother came into my room telling me it was time for bed, but I was reluctant. I didn't want to go to bed, but to play a little longer now that I was seven. I was "older" and I wanted to stay up like the big kids. She was not one to give into a small child's pleas. She was a retired police officer like my father. She had been in more profound situations then this. She could be unmovable and unwavering when she wanted to be, like my father. Tonight, though, her usual confident self was replaced by a look of worry. So without anymore moaning I grabbed my teddy bear and hopped into bed. She came over and gave me a kiss on the forehead.

"Good night, my baby..." she said ever so silently.

"Where is Daddy?" I asked.

My mother smiled and pets my head. "He is finishing some work that has to get done before tomorrow. I am sorry he can't come tuck you in... you will just need to try and fall asleep, ok, honey?"

I nodded even though I knew I wouldn't be able to fall asleep without my dad coming in and saying goodnight. My mother got up and left my room, slowly closing my door behind her. I turned and stared at the ceiling. My dad would come and say goodnight-he always does-but after an hour he still hadn't showed. I turned to the door and looked at it, hoping that he would come in.

 

Some noise woke me up. My eyes shot open as I heard a vase break and a scream. What was going on? I got up hugging my bear and went to my bedroom door. I heard muffled sounds through it. I couldn't pick up any specific words. So I opened the door slowly and then the words came more clearly. They were coming from down stairs in the family room. I started toward the stairs curious about what was being said.

"You should have thought more about your escape plan. It was way too easy to find you." A man said, his voice unfamiliar to me.

"I hear you have a little daughter now. Started a family, did we?" The man asked.

"You leave her out of this." My mother hissed.

Why were they talking about me? I thought. I went to the top of the stairs to get a better look. My eyes widened at what I saw. My father was on the ground with a gash on his head, a broken vase next to him. My mother was on the ground kneeling next to him. What most surprised me, though, was the man pointing a gun at both of them, and another man behind him holding his gun as well.

The man talking to my parents was well dressed, clean shaven and tall. His eyes were small, narrow, and as dark as the night sky. His hair was also a dark brown like tree bark in the night time. The man next to him was shorter than the other but dressed differently. Instead of a good clean shirt, he wore a tee shirt with a jacket unzipped around it. He was facing away from me so I didn't get a clear look at him, but his hair was jet black.