It's been 3 days, 13 hours and 6 minutes since my father was murdered. The police say they haven't found the bullet or bullet shell and doubt they will. But, I remember exactly where the bullet landed. In fact i had picked it up and stuffed it away so the police wouldn't find it. I knew they wouldn't try to find the killer but I would. I would find who murdered my father.
It's 2a.m. and i keep waking up. Repeating different angles and ways the killer could have shot my father. What floor they were on and what building they were in or even the awful reasons they would want to kill him. At about 5a.m. I finally drift back to sleep and at 8a.m. jumping out of my bed from yet another frightening dream. Banging my head on my nightstand sitting next to my bed.
All day I've seen him. Walking through the front door from work, seeing him across the table at breakfast, or even sitting in his rusty old metal lawn chair watching me play fetch with our Great Dane, Max. It's only been 4 days but it seems like eternity. How am I suppose to last the rest of my life with this empty pit in my gut. My days will consist of three meals, school, homework and sleep. No more daddy daughter days where we walk to the market together and if we have extra money, get vanilla milkshakes, hiding them from mum and brother, making it our little secret treat.
Nothing will ever be the same again without him here. But, finding his murderer and punishing him will take a lot of pain away. I guess you could say I'm,
Seeking Revenge.
