Chapter 1

"I emerged safely from the birth canal into the open air; immediately a doctor picked me up and smacked me on the butt - I guess he was just getting me used to what life has to offer." True words have never been spoken.


Life for me hasn’t always been a bed of roses. I am Wesley Roberts. I was born to a loving family.

 My father Alex is a hard working man. Who spends a lot of time out in the fields supporting my Mom, Andrea and I.

  We are a close family. Dad taught me all the things that boy should know, like how to fish, how to play catch and the value of a hard day’s work.

 Mom was your typical doting mother. She was always in the kitchen cooking something. The smell of fresh apple pie was enough to drive any man crazy. She helped me with my homework and she would play outside with me when I asked.

Life as I knew it was great. We lived off the land, Mom and Dad were in love with each other and they loved me. I thought nothing could ever happen to us. Boy was I wrong.

Mom became pregnant when I was 6 years old. We were all so excited to have a little one on the way. Imagine, I could have a little brother. He would do everything I asked him to, he would idolize me because I was older and smarter. Having a sister wouldn’t be bad. I wouldn’t let no body hurt her and if they did they would have to deal with big brother.

Anyway, Mom’s pregnancy was going well.  We continued our lives, fishing, playing ball and just having fun. The big day was finally here. Mom was having a nap, because her back was killing her. She woke up to a sharp pain in her abdomen. “Honey, it’s time”, she said. Dad, he was funny. He was jumping up and down, “What do we need, towels, and hot water? Work with me here people!” he finally got it under control and delivered our newest member of the family, Levi a bouncing baby boy.

 He was beautiful, can you call boys beautiful? Well Mom did. Dad quickly went to work cleaning Levi up and then put him in his crib for a nap. He went back in the bedroom to check on Ma. She didn’t look well at all.



I was afraid for her because she got all pale. Dad quickly told me to get out and go play outside. I didn’t want to go play, I wanted to stay with my mom, but he insisted. You don’t argue with Dad. Well, she didn’t make it. She died that night.

 How can such a happy day, turn out so crappy? Pardon my language.


Dad took it the hardest. He cried and cried. It was kind of scary to see this man that is supposed to be so strong weep like a child.

 I cried too, I wanted my mom back. He hugged me and tried to tell me it was going to be alright, but really, how can it be? We were all alone. The three of us guys. How was dad supposed to take care of us and still make a living?


That night we buried Mom under the apple tree. I thought she might be happy there. We said our tearful goodbyes and went to bed. Dad let me stay with him; I think he needed me as much as I did him.

My nightmares were answered.  When news got to my Aunt Gretchen about Mom’s death she came over to offer her “help”.

To make matters worse she brought along my cousin, Ezekiel.  These two are both bad apples.
Ezekiel was always making fun of me. “You’re nothing but a little crybaby. Waahhh I want my mommy. Waaahhh!” He would take my toys and hide them in the dirt outside.

Most days Dad was still too upset to do much in the fields. Most of the crops had started to die.

 He just didn’t have the will to do anything at all. He would still talk to me to make sure I was holding up okay.

The months seemed to drag on for me. Dad had gotten back to the work grind. I guess it gave him something else to think about. He did repairs around the house as well and was becoming quite the handyman.

I went to school. I didn’t have many friends, a few of the neighborhood kids would chat with me at recess. Most days after homework was done, I’d go find a spot where it was nice a quiet and just think about how my life has come to this point. It was always nice out here with no one to yell at me or make fun of me.

Of course when it got dark I would have to go back. I always dreaded that house now. Gretchen was an evil witch. You know those stories about the “Wicked” stepmother? Well, this was her. Only in living flesh. She yelled when I tracked mud in the house, when my clothes got dirty and if I didn’t finish my chores.

Not even my dad was safe from her barrage. She criticized him being too lax on me. “The boy needs discipline,” she’d say constantly. Her idea of discipline was military school.

I hate my life. I hate what this woman has done to my family. Sometimes I wish I could just run away from it all…

Chapter 5

Webs of Deceit

A male voice can be heard singing in the park.


“People are strange when you’re a stranger
Faces look ugly when you’re alone
Women seem wicked when you’re unwanted
Streets are uneven when you’re down
When you’re strange
Faces come out of the rain
When you’re strange
No one remembers your name
When you’re strange….”

A handsome man can be seen sitting at a chess table. He doesn’t appear to be interested in the game. He appears to be more focused on a couple sitting having a picnic.

The couple is oblivious to this man, as they are enraptured in their conversation and in each other.

They are also unaware they are being watched by another.

 She is hateful woman with no pity in her heart. Remorse, sadness, guilt are all emotions she has since given up for vengeance and hatred. 

Chapter 4

A Life Turned Upside Down

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.