Crime 13

Origin

It was that night it began. The night of which my parents died right before my eyes. I still remember the sound of my parents scream, as they were gunned down mercilessly. I just stood there, like I was in a shocked state of paralysis. It was like someone had stolen my soul and left me for dead. The gunman spared me. I didn't know why he did but I wished he just killed me too. The feelings inside me we're all going crazy like I was going to burst out different emotions from every direction . At that moment all I felt was guilt, anger and pain. The stare that my mother looked me right in the eyes with, washed all my memories and thoughts away. I looked at the ground only to see the blood of my parents flowing down the cobbled pathway. I never forgot what happened. I always get the same recurring nightmare of what happened that night. It was like it was torturing me to the brink of insanity. But the only thought that came to my head was revenge.

15 years later

I woke up in my apartment with a pounding headache. No surprise. I can't even remember what happened last night. All I remember was that I had a lot to drink. Sounds a lot like me. As I struggled with the covers to get up, I noticed that my left arm had a bandage on, to aid a deep gash."guess I got in a fight too." I thought. I got out of the bed, letting all the cold air freeze my bare feet while sliding them into my slippers. I grabbed the newspaper and headed on downstairs.

I live in a simple apartment, east of Blüdhaven. I had to save a lot of money for it but I guess in the end, it was worth it. Saving money in Blüdhaven is a really hard job as there is little money to be gained so people turn to crime to make a living. It's only us sane people that struggle to survive in the cold winters of the town. Trying to wake up later is impossible with the dig site behind my house, causing all the disruption, which wakes you up at exactly six o'clock, so that's became my wake up call. Anyways, I guess it's better than a rooster.

While reading the paper I noticed a particular article which caught my eye. It read 'Political leader found dead'. Police officers say that the body was found in a warehouse south of Blüdhaven. The image with the article showed a man with his tongue removed and his fingers chopped off. Just looking at the article made my stomach churn. I even started to feel nauseous. 'Knock, knock'. My heart skips a beat as I frantically turn around to see where the source of the noise was coming from. It was the door. I sighed a relief and trudged over to the battered wooden entrance. I opened it , leaving a tiny gap to see who was there. It was Sarah. "Looks like you had no sleep," she started. "Yeah I was..." " Partying again!" She butted in. " I only had a quick drink!" As soon as I said that, I knew I had more than a 'quick drink'. "Okay maybe more," I added.

I invited her in and we both sat down at the dinner table. "Do you want me to put the T.V on?" I asked. She nodded. I grabbed the T.V remote from the rusty side table and started flicking through the channels. Eventually I found the news which was the same article that I read in the newspaper. Fascinated by the story , I listened in to every detail the newsman gave me. It was like he was mouth feeding me evidence. "Police officers have suspected that the murderer of the political leader, James Stewart, was Sal Maroni." Now that's a person you don't want to mess with. He is an Italian mob that has been 'suspected' of 23 murders, but police say that there is not enough to convict him to make him stand trial in court. The only way he could be convicted is if someone had a surveillance tape of the crime. There never was one as he sabotaged the cameras. He messed with a lot of people and that makes him the most wanted person in Blüdhaven.

I looked up to see Sarah staring at me. She looked confused. "What's wrong?" I asked. She slouched her head down as if all life had been sucked out of her. She was dead. My hands started to tremble just looking at the corpse. It was like the same night my parents died; like a reenactment of what happened. I slowly stood up, knocking my cup of tea off the arm of the chair. But the smash of the tea on the ground, never made contact with my ears, as I was too focused on the dead stare that she gave me. It drove me insane knowing that I let this happen. The stare was exactly the same as my mothers. All of a sudden, I remembered the promise I gave to myself that night. The promise of vengeance.