A Diary Of A Kind Professor

Rain

14:25 Monday January 2020
location: library

It was raining that day. I was stuck in the library since school ended. Not that it mattered, but my stomatch growled from hunger. 'My mom's warm soup would be nice today', I had thought to myself as I hugged myself for warmth.

Pitter. Patter and the little drizzle had turned into a downpour. I was already busy checking out books from the shelves, going from one to another.

One of the books that caught my eye was "The Ones who walked away from Omelas". I picked it up, as mom had mentioned it to me for a few times.

My mom was a professor at our city university. She taught literature and art history to students which she seemed to enjoy doing.

Truth is my mom isn't actually my mom. She was just a professor that had brought me up out of kindness. It happened 19 years ago in a late October night, as mom told me frequently. She got requested to help on a case of murder that happened two blocks away.

The whole family murdered except for me. I never missed them, I never needed them either, I had my mom after all, but, sometimes I did wonder what it would be like if they were still alive.

The case was never solved, even with my mom's help. The killer left pieces of code that was somehow connected to works of literature, but, unfortunately no one had a clue of how to solve them, or where to begin. In the end after 6 years of trying the police buried the case.

Sometimes I still wonder why I was the only survivor. Did they not want a little girl to die? I was only 2 months old and I couldn't remember a thing about my family or who could've wanted them dead. I couldn't remember my birth mom's face nor my dad's or my older brother's and sisters.

I would beg my mother to tell me about my families death, but, she wouldn't dare. She never told me how they were killed, instead she would look away pale whenever asked. Sometimes she would mutter to herself and nod. "It was a painful sight my dear child... you wouldn't want to know", and just like that she would turn around and leave.

My curiosity never died though. It only grew. One day at a time.