The Avenger

This wasn’t originally meant to get published. Rather it is my life story that is made mandatory by the court as a part of therapy. My name is Devin. I have had a rather messed up life, and the only way my therapist sees me moving past it is by telling my story and then overcoming it.

When I was a little girl, only about seven years old, my mom was murdered. The guy who murdered her didn’t see my standing in the bloody doorway watching as he delivered the final blow. I was going to scream but was so scared that no sound came out. I then ran to my room and hid. I don’t really remember how long I was under my bed. It seemed like hours, and by time the cops came I was so shaken that they had to have two female officers talk me into coming out.

That night my dad had been away on a business trip, and my mom asked me to lock up. I told her I would like I had so many times before when she was sick and my dad was away. It was MY fault that my mom had gotten murdered. I still live with this guilt and I hope to God that one day I can get over it, but I will never forget her.

My dad came home late that night, but he thought it would be to traumatic for me to go back to the neighbor hood so we went and stayed in the nicest hotel he could afford. I could care less about that at the moment I just wanted my mom back. My dad tried to get me to smile but it was useless. I went to bed shortly after we got there and refused to eat.  I didn’t stay asleep long, because as soon as I fell asleep I began to have a nightmare.

Only it wasn’t truly a nightmare. It was more like reliving. All the sudden I could see my mom getting murdered all over again. I woke up screaming in a cold sweat, and my dad tried desperately to comfort me. It was no use. I would relive this dream for years to come, but as time passes the face slowly begins to blur. By the time I turn fourteen I can’t even recall the slightest bit of what my mother’s killer had looked like.

My dad and I moved into a large house with top of the line security along the beach in California. I made it a routine to take a midnight swim every night. Without it I would just wake up in a cold sweat before I had my eyes closed for even a half hour. I guess swimming was comforting to me because my mother and I had always gone for swims while my dad was gone.

One night while my dad was upstairs sleeping I decided to sneak out for a second swim and try not to wake him. There was no way I was going to be sleeping tonight. Something was making my horrible nightmare of reliving strong and persistent. When I got down to the beach I stripped down to my normal swim wear, or at least what I wear when I go midnight swimming. I was out in the water for about two or three hours and when I finally decided to start headed to the house because I knew my dad would wake soon to check on me, I snagged my foot in what I thought was seaweed. I only wish I could have been right.

Of course I wasn’t. I found out the reason that I was having such a horrible time trying to sleep that night. What I snagged my toe in was some girl’s long brunette hair. She wasn’t alive, infact she had been dead for some time and her body finally made it close to the shore. Why did I have to find her??!! I screamed and my dad came running. He had his cell phone and when he saw the reason for my pale face he instantly called the cops to inform them. We waited by the girls dead body, but I just couldn’t get past the markings on her body.

(This is continued in my own paper.)