Vengeance

||Prologue||

Oakley Marrero

I was never like other kids growing up.

When girls my age–five years old–were playing with dollhouses and painting their nails with colorful polish, I was in my bed staring at magazines full of guns. Yeah, you read that right, guns. Since I can remember, they've always been my fascination.

There's so much more to guns than just pulling a trigger, and that's what most people don't know, including you.

A bullet from the strongest handgun, a Smith & Wesson Model 29, can travel anywhere from 1,200 mph to 2,800 mph, and if that isn't simple enough to understand, let me put it this way. It's equivalent to 46 cars hitting you at full speed consecutively.

Now, imagine those collisions compacted into one grape-sized piece of fucking metal, piercing through your skull and killing you on the spot; not giving you even a half of a second to acknowledge what has just occurred.

But, you have the privilege to only imagine it. While my parents had to experience it.

And me?

Well, I got front row seats to the night that was supposed to be filled with love, but instead was filled with unforgetable aching pain.

***

10 years ago

February 14th, 2011

"Mommy, are we almost there yet?" I whined from the back seat, my mom sat beside my dad in the driver's seat.

For Valentine's day my parents and I went out for a family date, Dad had taken us to one of the most expensive restaurants in town and then to the movie theaters. And after the eventful day, my tiny body was worn out.

"We're nearly there, be patient." My dad said from behind the wheel.

"But I'm tired." I groaned.

Before my Dad could speak again, the sound of his phone receiving a call rang through the car. He huffed as he slid one hand off the wheel and retrieved his phone from his suit pocket.

Besides the tune of the ringtone and the raindrops hitting the car from outside, it was silent. My dad stole glances at his ringing phone, trying to keep his eyes on the road through the blurry windscreen.

"Hunny, aren't you going to answer it?" My mom asked him.

I remember the fear on his face as he stared at the screen with wide eyes like it was just yesterday the chaos happened.

His grip tightened on the phone as he rolled down the window beside him and flung it onto the road below. The sound of it shattering and tumbling behind us slowly diminished as he drove by. Once the window was back up, he slammed his foot on the gas, surpassing far beyond the speed limit and causing my mom and me to grip onto the leather seat to keep stable.

"Daddy, slow down!" I shouted as my dad suddenly jerked the car to the left, sending me flying to the side, despite my seat belt wrapped around me.

"Philip, what is going on?" My mom asked frantically. The sound of the engine rumbled as we straightened on the road.

"They've found us." His words were rough, and dripping with fear.

Who?

Those were the last three words my dad spoke before a beam of light shined through the rear window glass.

After this point everything seemed to move in slow motion as I watched my dad turn his head to me, his eyes shooting to the car directly behind us, "OAKLEY! GET DOWN!"