I can’t remember a time when I was truly happy.
My whole life has been filled with pain and heartache. I feel so miserable all the time and anyone who is happy, just makes me sick to my stomach. What right do they have to be so happy, when I am a miserable wreck?
My family was very wealthy. Father had invested in some companies whose stocks paid off in heavy dividends. We lived in a big house that overlooked the city.
I was the oldest of three children. I had two younger sisters, Samantha, the middle child and Vanessa the youngest.
Mother loved my sisters more than me. I knew she would never admit it, but a person can tell when there are favorites being played. They were much prettier than I. I always felt like the Ugly Duckling whenever those two brats were around. Mother doted on them always combing their hair and putting them in the finest clothes. I hated them for being so pretty.
My childhood progressed like normal. I went to school.
My sisters were the favorites there as well. All the boys loved to talk with them and asked them to parties and such, but I was never invited. I was looked down upon as being ugly, plain and simple. I hated all these school kids and their mean names and their stupid little clubs that excluded kids like me. My sisters didn’t help matters. They would often act like I wasn’t even related to them at all. Those insolent little brats!
I would come home crying to Father and he would hold me and tell me, everything was alright. And that he loved me very much. I always felt safer and valued when I was in his arms.
One year as Father was looking for fellow investors, he met a man by the name of Walter Renfield. He was a rich man in his own right. Father thought it would behoove the both of them if they combined resources for a most profitable business venture. This would prove to be his undoing.
Walter had placed a good portion of the investment firm’s money into some stocks that had increased in value greatly.
Walter had become extremely greedy over this venture. He found that he not only wanted this money, he deserved all of it, seeing as he did all the work. Walter had conspired with a mysterious man to get rid of my father. Walter wanted to make sure it looked like an accident. He could in no way be implicated.
On the eve of my 19th birthday, Father bought a cake for me to celebrate.
Walter had showed up with a bucket of ice and champagne to celebrate their successful venture. He poured the champagne, brought Father and himself a glass and toasted to their continued success. Father had drunk to the toast and patted Walter on the back. It was a nice night for celebrating. We chatted a bit throughout the night. It was getting late so Walter said good night and left us.
It was a nice night of celebrating. One of the few times I was happy, but that was to be short lived.
I awoke the next morning and found Father wasn’t up yet. I found this odd as he usually has his coffee and paper before setting off for work. I knocked on the door to his room. No sound. I knocked again, nothing.
I opened the door and saw him sitting on the foot of his bed. He didn’t look well. I asked him if he was feeling alright. He said yes. He just had a headache. “It’s probably from too much champagne last night,” he said. I helped him to his feet.
That’s when he grabbed his stomach.
He fell to the floor and didn’t move. I shook him saying, “Father! Father! Wake up!”
I ran to the phone to call the paramedics. When they got there he was dead. The police found no evidence of foul play, but I knew better.
The years that followed my father’s death were troubled. We lost the house and all Father’s money was gone. Mother hated me. She blamed me for Father’s death and wanted me out of her life.
We had a terrible fight the night of my departure. "I HATE YOU!" I yelled at my Mother. “You never loved me! All you love is Father’s money and those little brats in the house!”
She slapped me, “How dare you speak to me that way! How could I have given birth to such a hateful, wretched child as you! I wish you were never born!”
I was stunned. Could I really be hearing these words coming from my own Mother’s mouth? More than anything I wished she were dead instead of my Father.
I couldn’t see myself staying in that house a moment longer. I didn’t pack a bag. I didn’t grab any belongings. I just left and I never looked back.
My dealings with this family and the Renfield family are far from over. I know Walter killed my Father. I will not rest until my vengeance is satiated.
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