| | Chapter 1 - The Scene's of Horror
Whispers of agony has given me a title for an
uttermost and disgusting discomfort anyone could ever experience.
Am I experiencing freedom, or has an event such as manslaughter brought
me to a position where I will be trapped behind another closed
door? Two bodies lay on the floor on top of once a blue chinese
imported rug, now in the color of blood. There is no shame in
guilt, and there is certainly no forgiveness in a normal society.
Sad to say, guilt is non-existent in the mind of a killer.
However, one doesn't have to be a killer to have no shame or
guilt.
The two bodies I have dealt with were known to be
perfect in the eyes of society. A well trained proffesional at
her office, she defended victims to her last breathe. Every piece
of evidence she could possibly use, she exploited just to bring
justice in the city. When asked by her only child "How are you so
certain the man or woman you are defending today is innocent?" she
softly whispers "The highest bidder of course". According
to my many assumptions, every last one she prosecuted may have been
innocent. I could be ignorant and say such a thing due to the
fact I hate her with a passion, however it is my mother, and I should
always stick by her side. That is exactly what I did, I stuck a
knife right on the side of her expecting stomach. Whatever gender
was developing in the womb, it certainly wasn't my fathers.
The second body once having the sour stench of
alcohol, now only having the smell of rotten flesh and pure blood was a
good man behind the demon. From political debates, charming
appearances in the local news, and participating in community service,
Glen Walder seemed to be the perfect candidate for the city's
governor. Elected twice and was soon to be third in a row, Mr.
Walder seemed to have it all. A wife, a great political stand,
and a daughter to abuse every day, whether it was mentally or
physically. Around the time I was at the age of eleven, his
favorite saying he wanted to hear was "Daddy dont, daddy stop".
In his sick mind, my sweet, cute, innocent little voice screaming those
haunting words would motivate him to go for more. Since his mind
was poisoned by whatever contaminated beverage he had been served that
night, the abuse would be led for hours. There would be days
when I didn't want to go outside and play with my best friend Cindy
because I couldn't walk. There would be times when I couldn't
walk, the head of the household would give me chores to do. Since
I wasn't able to fulfill his obligations, the same punishment happened
the very same night. And his dead wife that lies next to him now
pretended as if nothing ever happened.
Murderer's say never look in the eye of the one you
are about to kill, or the one you just killed, the situation will haunt
you forever. Suppose the haunting would last as a good
memory. For a moment I feel as if I unlocked the melody of broken
chains, but the two bodies who lie on the chinese rug helplessly
weren't even the worse situations I had to go through in life.
Many encounters gave me experience of what to expect from the
two. But who ever knew that evil existed behind the golden gates
of the mansion? All of my life until the teenaged years, my
friends were elected by my parents, I was told where to go rather than
find things out for myself. I never had true freedom until my
mother and father became so successful in what they do.
By the time the bitch became a lawyer was around the
same time my father became finally elected. After running for
governor for five years, his time of guarantee that he would win the
people's hearts had come. Four years before the guarantee was
made, his urge for rape and my discomfort had weakened. Glen
Walder secretly went into alcohol and drug related rehab and learned
how to control his drinking status. From then on, his commitment
on drinking was only for social reasons. I honestly thought the
beatings would stop then and there. At the age of fourteen, I
finally understood what my parents have been doing to me since the age
of ten. Knowing that he finally put the beer runs behind him, I
felt a little security. About six weeks after he completed his
rehab, his urge for fucking a little girl came about. From then
on, his urges would be on and off, he wouldn't abuse me as consistently
as he did when my age turned double digits.
I understood what he was doing to me, I never
realized it was wrong until a year later. My parents were so rich
during the five year political run, they afforded to have me shun from
the world. Banished from stepping my ragged, untied shoe onto
American soil, I was destined to stay home and kept away from society
in fear that what went on behind the closed doors in the room would
escape. I was pulled away from public school, and thrown into my
room to study all day and throughout the night when my father wasn't
touching me. At the age of 16, I begged my parents to let me drop
out of this home schooling and let me live a life. After a couple
of days from slaps and denials from my mother, they were convinced to
let me go.
Mostly everything I learned was from television,
books, and employees of my father had hired. Although they were
in the house most of the time, they never had the slightest idea what
happened, and if they did have suspicions by looking at the large
bruise on my arm, my father would roll out fifty or a hundred dollar
bills, and shove it in their pockets to keep them quiet.
As two wealthy people stare in shock of how did a
situation ever result in a murder, I question myself was this all worth
it? Like I said before, "I felt as if I unlocked the melody of
broken chains" yet there's an empty space that is felt in my
stomach. It seems a piece of my favorite jigsaw puzzle was
missing in my heart. As I twirl the sharp butterfly knife stolen
from a high school sophomore named Jake Jinkins or J.J. for short, I began to
have flashbacks of
something he would like to call love.
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| | Posted 7/1/2004 1:53 AM - 20 views - 1 comments
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