My Daddy the Serial Killer

Prologue:

I always knew what daddy did, and I thought he was right for it. He told me when I was small that he made the bad go down to hell where they came, and I thought he was a hero. My mother, on the other hand, thought he was a monster. I would always take daddy's side and hold his leg tight when they fought. Then mom would leave and come back approximately 5 days later. Well I'm not that little girl anymore, and my daddy isn't alive either. My mom is still up and moving, but she might as well die. She said that when my daddy died a part of her went with him. How pathetic.

He was actually a very good daddy I have to say. He never beat me, he loved me with all his might, and he was my best friend. He died when I was 14. It was a homicide.  At first they wouldn't tell me, being all young and shit. But I said that he was my father and I had a right to know. Stab wound in his artery. Bled to death. They never caught the bastard who did this, and neither did I. I'm 18 now and I never thought I had to kill. Daddy said "kill" is an ugly word, and I shouldn't use it. But that's how he went. He experienced an ugly death, and he deserved every gruisome second of it. I don't know if he would be proud of me, besides its every parent's dream to pass on their traits to their children.

~~~~~~~~~~

My name is Emmaline Yorks, and my daddy was a serial killer. I just turned 17 and is on my way to the 11th grade. Great, the era of sex, drugs, and alcohol. I checked myself before leaving my car and into the student infested parking lot. Cute flats, skinny jeans, shirt reasonably low cut, and shiny brown hair. Here goes. I slung my school bag over my shoulder and stepped out of my Mercedes. I flashed a smile to a group of boys,and lucky for me they smiled back. Not what you expect from the daughter of a serial killer huh? It's not like a have a dark shadow peeking through my eyes seeing who to kill next. I'm saner then you give me credit for. I don't see my dead father everywhere and I certainly do not have a thirst for blood.

"Hey! Emmaline!" I whipped my head around and saw a skinny blonde trotting herself and her bouncy curls over to me. "Oh hey Tess!" I exclaimed and threw my arms around her. Tess, Tess, Tess. She's my best friend ever since the 3rd grade. I loved this girl to death, but she's kind of on the stupid side. She knew my father, but she didn't know about his gruesome secret. "Hey how've you been? How was summer? Are you still getting those nightmares you told me about a few months ago?" exclaimed Tess. Oh yeah did I mention I've had vivid dreams about my father being killed in front of me? "Slow down there Tess, I miss you too", I giggled. "I'm great thanks, and summer was as same as always: pretty fuckin shitty. My mom is always on her ass unless she's going to work. And even there she's on her ass, she almost got fired! But enough about me, how was Italy?"

The day was filled with old and new faces, all of which didn't amuse me. I got home and plopped on the couch, not even glancing at the first day of school homework sitting in my bag. I shut my eyes for a second, only a second, and I was swept away by that damn sandman:

"Daddy?" my small voice echoed in my desolate house. I walked in my daddy's office only to find a shadow with a knife and my daddy frozen on the spot. He turned around and looked down at me, wide eyed. "Go to your room Emma. Daddy's working right now." His voice was distant. The shadow thrust the knife deep in my dad's heart and pulled it out. Daddy didn't even groan. He just fell on his knees and down to the floor. I stared down at him, and the shadow stepped towards me. He stepped in the moonlight and it revealed his body and-

"Emma! Get off the couch and into your room!"

Without wincing at the loud ratty voice of my mother I managed to hoist myself up and out of the room. When she gets home from work she enjoys a bottle of wine and her God forsaken soap operas. I would be smart to not bother her during those events. I wasn't shaken by the dream, only confused. I knew dreams only displayed mental images of what's in my mind, so I don't dwell on them. They won't help me, or my mom, or the upcoming trouble that's about to occur.