Flashbacks

She sat between her bed and her lamppost, the furthest she could get away from the horrible noises that wouldn’t leave her alone, not even during the peaceful times in her bed. They would filter through the calming darkness and filled her consciousness with horrors unimaginable to the innocent eye. She wished that she could -somehow- push the voices out of her head.

But when she heard the screams stop emanating from the closet, she quickly turned the lights off and jumped silently onto the bed, trying to get herself to look as if she had been there from the moment she entered her room. She had finally managed to calm her heart down as the footsteps drew even closer. And when the door opened just by a sliver -as it always did- she was sleeping quietly, her eyelids glued to her eyes. The door closed.

When she could no longer hear the noisy pair of footsteps coming from outside her bedroom, she crept out of her bed and slowly crawled to her loose floorboard, and carefully took it out of its place, revealing a grand total of three thick books, a pencil, and a notebook. She took out the thickest book, and closed the lid on the small container, and quietly walked to the bed. She opened ‘Moby Dick’ for the fiftieth time as she focused on the words that took up the valuable spaces on the pages, reading under the soft starlight that shone from the windows above the bed.

-!-

“Why didn’t you try to help those people?” -Police Officer Wern

-!-

Please go away, Amantha Grace, she thought as she pulled her seat out from the tiny shelter it received under the desk.

“So, hey- are you listening to me?” Said girl asked her. Amantha was as annoying as always, and she made no motion to respond to her.

“Come on, why do never say anything?” She kept persisting, and Amantha laid her hand on her shoulder. Flinching at the gentle touch, she practically leaped out of her seat, cannonballing herself into the desk in front of her.

“Shannon, are you okay?” The blonde teacher looked over her computer to see her sprawled on the floor, with Amanda looking down in between amusement and horror.

“Yes ma’am,” She said, and without even sparing a glance at her peers, she gently placed her uninjured fingers on the ground, and lifted herself up. Stupid Amantha Grace. “Sorry for the intrusion, ma’am.”

“No- you don’t have to apologize for an accident, Shannon!” But the look on her face told otherwise. “Now class, get back to your seats; we already wasted three minutes!”

The rest of the class went back to their seats as the teacher started to write very simple math problems as the beginning-of-the-year review. Whatever. Things would never change. Such as the fact that she couldn’t tell the rest of the class -or anybody, for that matter- that her dad was a murderer.

-!-

“The one thing to be afraid of is yourself. You never know what you can do, or the crimes you’re capable of committing.”

-!-

The fact that she couldn’t tell anybody that her father had Munchausen syndrome by proxy used to drive her crazy when she was younger, but after several incidents after her dad beat her, she learned to keep her mouth shut. It all started when she was around five or four -she wasn’t exactly sure- but her father had come home with a bloody knife. She was curious, so like any other child that was curious about something, she used the Internet.

‘Munchausen syndrome by proxy: Wikipedia.’ When she clicked the link, she found an entire article about the wants and needs for homicide. It was most likely that her father had this disease. If her father had cancer or Ebola, she would’ve had the same reaction that she had now. Pity. She pitied him because he was never in her life, never supported her mom and herself, or even tried to help them with their financial problems. So she pitied him, like any other stranger.

But she pitied the people that her father killed more. Thoughts of trying to save them always crossed her thoughts, but it never quite took hold. She was too afraid of him to try anything. The people that he killed were usually homeless, judging from the stink that emanated from the closet that he never allowed them to go in. She went in there anyways. The fear wasn’t enough -yet- to stop her curiosity.

She wanted her father to disappear from this world; it would be as if a mass murderer died for his crimes. She had tried, once. She slipped ricin into his numerous wine bottles that her father had opened out of his sight, and vanished under the desk. But when he drank the wine, he started to vomit ruthlessly. The small amount of poison was in his disgusting vomit, which would never affect him again.

She had stayed crying -silently- under the desk when her father stumbled clumsily to his room, and she cried. She cried for the countless amount of people that would die because she couldn’t kill him. It was unjust.

-!-

“Are you okay?” No, I wasn’t. But even though she wanted to fall into her mother’s arms, she hid under her personal happy face, and said, “I’m okay.”

-!-

She was never the same when her father killed her mother. Her mother was a huge part of her life like her father should’ve been, and it tore her apart when she realized that her mother wasn’t there anymore. Like the countless others that vanished at the ruthless hands of her father, her mother was gone. It was so hard to believe that an entire life, all those things that made her her, was gone.

Why did she go? She thought, as if she could bring her back with her thoughts. Please come back… nevertheless, she didn’t. Her mother was dead and in pieces, probably hidden beneath their own garden. It was disgusting.

She didn’t act like it, though. Whenever she went out, she would mentally place her happy mask on her face, and spoke in cordial tones. She had no one that could possibly care for her; no one to support her. She felt as if her life was a small firelight that lived on a candle, but the winds of life were trying to put her out. Like her dad. He was tantamount to garbage. He was a tornado to her candle, draining her fire and extinguishing her life. Her happiness. Her joy.

Devoid of any life, she hid underneath her bed for two days when her mother disappeared, eating nothing but bread and milk.

-!-

“Please don’t leave me, officer. My dad’s still there, isn’t he?” -Shannon

-!-

She had never been scared, not even when her mother died. She knew who killed her, and he lived with her. She would get revenge, no matter what. It was what drove her forward -it inspired her. However, the sadness that she felt never could be diminished not even after three years her mother disappeared to the public. To her, she had died. And she was right; she knew it. Her emotional life was a rollercoaster, and she couldn’t stop her tears as she sank to her knees, leaning on her faded pink wall for support.

She would occasionally burst into tears as she thought of her mom, who had been both her mom and her father in this life. Why did her mom marry this- this- abomination? After she had finished crying, she would think back to the failure with the ricin and her dad, who was still murdering people when he thought she was asleep.

-!-

“Why didn’t you try to save her?! She was a person, you know! A person!” -Shannon

-!-

She wondered why the police never found out about the murders. They occurred very often, and in Gakona, they should’ve realized that their already small population was shrinking by the day. When she tried to call 9-1-1, nobody was on the other line. That’s when she found out that the police was non-existent in Gakona.

What used to be tens of thousands of people never realized their families were missing, and when they went missing, nobody else tried to look for them. Most of the town was made out of travelers and wanderers, and they never really took hold.

-!-

“But I can still hold onto that light; to save myself from the depths of death.”

-!-

She decided to travel away from the town, but not before she took care of the murderer. However, as she doused oil onto the wet grass, she had a mental conflict within herself. Is this right? Is this revenge, or justice? In the end, she decided that this was justice. She was avenging countless lives and wasn’t doing this for personal gain.

When her father came back, she never knew that he was coming for her this time.

-!-

“We are the scariest things on this planet, possibly in this universe.”

-!-

When she didn’t hear the screams again, she knew something was wrong. The footsteps were growing louder as she leaped out of the first-story window and tumbled down onto the oiled grass below. The almost-oily stench in the air was unavoidable, and she was counting on the fact that her father was usually drunk when he came home. He wasn’t, though. Not today.

Trying to get out of the garden, she grasped for the iron coils that blocked her escape. And the footsteps grew closer, like tigers surrounding their small prey.

-!-

“Help!” -Shannon

-!-

“I’ve found you, you filthy bi##h.” His drugged breaths clouded the air, leaving her surrounded in his filthy smog. “You found out, didn’t you?”

She only stood quietly, reaching for the lighter behind her pocket.

-!-

“She had poured gasoline on the whole property.” -Police Officer Wren

-!-

As he stepped closer, she could clearly see the blade behind his back. Closer -and stopped. He had seen the lighter behind her back. The grass wove slightly to the wind, but the winds didn’t stop her from raising the fueled lighter to the light. “You killed mom.” Was the only thing that left her lips. Her eyes were brimming with tears, but she wouldn’t cry in front of this- this monster. She had failed once, and she wouldn’t fail again. The tears in her eyes showed fierce determination, and she lit the lighter.

“Don’t- Shannon, don’t. It’s dangerous, -” She almost laughed as she brought herself to her knees, bringing the flickering flame closer to the oiled grass.

“You don’t care about me, you- thing. And I will end this, no matter what.” Her lips contorted into a tight line as she threw the fire to the grass near her father.

She ran as she had never had before. The fire exploded into brilliant flames near her father, the orange waves rising almost hypnotically. The grass near them -also oiled- attracted the flames, and they were moving dangerously near her house. She ignored his screams and the scorching flames probably right behind her as she closed the door behind her once again. “Bye, mom.” She had already packed her most important belongings into the tiny cardboard box, and she took off, running off the property just as the gas pipes exploded, burning the house in a bright yellow hue, almost as if nature was coloring the house.

She didn’t spare a second glance back.

-!-

“And then there was one.”

-!-

She was currently living in Washington, working at a nearby Starbucks she had found close to her home. She had done the impossible and was still carrying on. She would never forget what happened to her, but if she had to go through all of that again, she would. Without a shred of doubt.

–END–