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"Here I opened wide the door; - Darkness there, and nothing more." - Edgar Allan Poe
"Raven, wake up," I rubbed over my eyes opening them gently. I put a smile on my face and looked up to my dad. I used to smile everyday when I woke up, my dad said that I was his sunshine, that was also my nickname. No one sees me as a sunshine anymore.
I adored my dad, I looked up to him. He was the only parental figure I had, because my mother left when I was young. Leaving my dad to care for me, all by himself. I think it reminded him of his mother a lot, Maureen Prescott.
If she would've just considered him as her son, none of this would've happened.
He picked me up from my bed and carried me to the kitchen, putting me down in my chair that I had put princess stickers on. He wasn't happy about it at first, but he didn't care that much. He took the pan of the stove and put my breakfast on my very own princess plate, I adored the Disney princesses.
"Here is your breakfast, sunshine," I giggled at the nickname, and happily started eating my food. I was at the age when if you asked me what I wanted to be in the future, I would've said a princess. I had only turned four the month before.
I was only four and dreamt of being on a silver screen next to the best actors and actresses, besides wanting to be a princess I wanted to be an actress. I was a theater kid growing up, I loved being on a stage and preforming a dramatic scene. I loved it, I don't anymore besides my real job now is far away from what I dreamt of.
"Yummy," I picked up my fork and stabbed another piece of bacon, I at my breakfast in a heartbeat. It was my favourite breakfast: eggs, bacon, and pancakes. It was an odd combination but I loved it, I wouldn't eat that anymore though. Plus I added way to much maple syrup to my pancakes. My dad looked over to me and gave him a quick thumbs up, to say I loved my breakfast.
I carefully climbed out of my seat, almost falling on my butt while doing so. I grabbed my plate, and walked to the stove muttering, "don't fall, don't fall." I reached the stove and held the plate high above my head, to try and reach the counter.
"Thank you," my dad grabbed the plate out of my hands before I almost dropped it.
"No problem," he grabbed a paper towel and kneeled down to reach my height, and he wiped some food off my mouth.
"Come on, you need to get ready for school," he picked me up again. Walking over to my room to dress me for school, they reached my room and he set me down onto the carpeted floor.
It was a dream room for me and probably every other little girl, I had a bed that was painted pink and that was filled with teddy bears. It kind of looked how the stereotypical four year old girls bedroom looked, but with more books. I used to love books especially fairytales.
After my father died and stopped loving everything I used to love, like reading, singing, dancing, acting, baking, playing board games, etc. All the fun stuff you do as a kid, stuff that most kids do when they're younger.
I had a cupboard filled with Disney movies, and bookshelf filled with my books. One of the book was a script dad wrote for me, it was about a girl my age who became obsessed with the theater, just like I was. It wasn't a script for an actual movie.
It would've been cool if it was. I definitely would've watched it.
He opened the drawers of my cupboard and asked: "what do you wanna wear?"
"Uh, the... the dress with the flower," he handed me the dress I wanted, a pair of socks, underwear, and shoes.
He walked out the door to let me change, and I quickly put my clothes on struggling to button my dress, and tie my shoes.
"Dad!" I yelled trying the reach the button on the back of my dress.
"Everything okay?" He opened the door.
"I can't tie my shoes and button," he kneeled down and buttoned my dress, then started showing me how to tie my shoes.
"First you make a knot, then you make one look like a bow. Tie this one around, through there and voila," he tried to teach me as much as possible. Before he might face his demise, he knew there was a chance that he could die.
He planned everything for if he might die, he prepared birthday cards for me, letters written for me. I was to young to understand that the script he wrote was for me, it was the future he hoped I would have. He didn't hold me to any expectation of a certain job, it was mostly just a very happy story.
The future I didn't choose in the end.
I chose a life of bloodshed, people tell me everyday it's not the future he wanted for me. That he didn't want me to take my revenge, but I did. And I think those people need to keep their mouths shut, and minf their own bussiness.
