Revaliir

Author: Sweet Revenge, Posted: Fri Oct 23, 2015 12:33 PM, Post Subject: Heart and Revenge

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Today, it was a hard day. There is a woman who comes into the Inn every so often, she reminds me so much of my mother. It was only a few days ago when I decided to start this journal. I felt my need to write more about my human life. Life after my mother.

When she died it was a few weeks after my fourteenth birthday. Her funeral was a day after her death. I remember my father looking like he had gotten no sleep, red ringed eyes, pale skin. He had lost the love of his life, I knew then my father would never be the same. I knew he wouldn't be my father anymore, she made him who he was. Her love kept him sane. I heard stories about my father in the last few years. He was a drunk, always in the Tavern down the road from us. He had met my mother one day before he walked into the bar and everything changed for him. They married and had me. I had felt an ache in my heart during the whole service. I might only be fourteen, but I still understood what was happening around me. My father was not my father anymore.

The weeks that followed, I barely saw my father, he was locked in mostly in his room. I would bring him his food but he wouldn't eat it. I would try to talk to him, but all I got was silence. His eyes seemed to be staring into nothingness. I wanted to cry every time I saw him. He was lost. He was gone just like my Mother.

A few months passed and I started to go back to school, it wasn't long till my friends got me to smile again. Smile with everything that was inside me and laugh. How I miss the feel of joy in my heart when I laughed with my closet friends. I miss them… I miss there smiles, the way they used to make fun of one another, how we would skip around the big fountain in the center of town. I loved them dearly. To think when I was a vampire I didn't care about them anymore or my father. Now that I am human again everything feels different.

One afternoon coming home from school, I didn't find my father in his room. The house was empty. I smiled, thinking that it was a good thing. Maybe he went back to work, or maybe out with his friends, or some fresh air. But I was wrong… Soon after the sun went down and the moon taken its place. I heard crashes in down the hall, stuff breaking. A scream, that sounded like my father. I ran down the hall and stopped when I reached the end. My father kneeled in the middle of the living room. Couch toppled over, the oil lap on the floor. Nothing was right side up. He was crying hard, his face in his hands. He smelt of alcohol. I ran to him and threw my arms around him. His strong arms pushed me away and my back hit the fallen couch. His face…His face when he he looked at me….it was like he didn't know me. I knew then, never to touch him. He wasn't my father anymore and never would be again.
That wasn't the last time it happened. I would try to avoid him as best I could. He did the same, unless he was drunk. I would come home from school and he would yell at me about different things. The dishes weren't done, the house was a mess, or to clean my room. It wasn't how a real parent would yell, his words were filled with anger.

On my fifteenth birthday, my friends tried to lift my spirits and planed me a party in the middle of the square. Their parents came and brothers, sisters. But all I could think was that my father wasn't there, he was at the bar a few blocks away. I wanted him there. I wanted to smile. I wanted to see his smiling face again.

Then a few weeks later, I went to visit my Mothers grave. I laid on the ground beside her grave stone and my fingers trailed the grass beneath me. I told mom of my summer. I met a boy. He was sweet and always looking out for me. I wish she could meet him. He kissed me. It was an okay. My first kiss. His too I think. But at the end of summer and beginning of school, he left me for another girl. I didn't mind. I didn't mind a lot of things. Before I left her, I cried. Cried so hard. Cried for her to come back. Cried for my Father to come back. I didn't know how long I cried for, but by the time I finally looked up to the sky the sun was setting.

Sitting up, I laid my hand on my Mother's gravestone. I told her I love her. Stood up and was about to leave when I heard my name yelled in the distance. It was my father. He was drunk….again. His face was full of anger when he approached. 'You shouldn't be here..' He said, he went to slap me but stopped and looked at the grave stone. I didn't wait to see what he did next. I ran away, ran to my friends, Caroline. She took me in and her mother soothed me while I cried. I didn't say anything. I think now, maybe, they thought I was crying for my Mother. I was partly and I also was crying for what had happened. I couldn't believe my father almost hit me.

After a few more years, I was eighteen, almost nineteen. I got a job the bakery. I would make bread and cakes and all sorts of things. My boss, Cindy, said I had a talent for designing cakes. I loved cooking. I loved the smell of freshly baked bread. If only they saw what was hidden beneath my long sleeve shirts. Finger marks, bruises. Over the years, I had leaved how to conceal my bruises. Even the pain in my heart. My father had started to hit me almost a year after the incident at my mothers gravestone. He didn't care about life anymore, staying indoors drinking or going to the inn. I had to work to put food on the table. I didn't call him Father anymore. That upset him at first, then he didn't care.

Cindy had asked a few times why there was a bruise on my cheek, I lied and said I had fallen, hit the stare or a corner of a table. She believed me the first few times, then now she grew suspicious. She didn't say a word but I saw it in here eyes. They soon would find out… it was only a matter of times.

I wish I could see her again. She was such a caring person. She even tried to help me but I refused it. I should of said something to someone. Maybe I would still be living a happy life there. My father could of got the help he needed. Or be alive…. even if he was rotting in a cell.

Author: Sweet Revenge, Posted: Sun Oct 18, 2015 10:46 PM, Post Subject: Heart and Revenge

Page 1

Just like most, I do not like thinking or even talking about my past. Its not something that brings happiness to my heart. But I need to write down everything I can about my past. I know how horrible it is to loose all memories that make you who you are. I want to remember my past, no matter how much I hate thinking about curtain things. Memories are the most valuable things everyone holds. I know that now.

I will start at the very beginning of my life. The most dreadful of memories was when I was human.

At first, my life was wonderful. My mother, Margaret, was the most caring, sweet, and the most beautiful woman I have ever known. We used to go on walks through our town before school. She smiled and waved at everyone. Her smile would light up anyone's mood. The town loved her. So did I. Most of all, my father, before the worst thing happened to us, he was an amazing, hard working man who wanted to take care of his family. He would kiss my head every night before bed when I was little. My mother would sing me a sweet song, and tuck me into bed. They were the couple everyone wanted to me. They loved each-other with everything they had. They never yelled at each-other, never scolded each-other. When they looked at each-other, you could see the love in their eyes. I used to wish that I would find a love like that.

It was sudden, my mothers illness had took her quick. One day, she was cooking my father breakfast and the next she was on the ground. Weak and pale. I remember my mother's name leave my lips in a scream. I couldn't believe my healthy, bright mother had fallen so sick in the matter of minutes. My father carried my mother to their room. She looked like a child curled up in his arms, her eyes barely open. I wanted to follow them, ask what was wrong. But my father yelled at me to run for the doctor. My feet took off before my mind did. The run was a blur. Talking to the doctor was a blur, until I got back to my house. I didn't go in when the doctor did, I stood in front of my house staring at the door. I couldn't move, I couldn't think. My father voice had knocked my out of my trance. He had called my name in a frantic voice. I walked slowly inside and stopped at the hall, staring at my parents door. He called again, and I went inside. I didn't say anything when he looked at me. I stared at my mother in bed, her forehead sweaty and her eyes closed. She didn't look like my mother.

The doctor couldn't say what she had. It could be Ague, Sweating sickness, or even Tertain Fever. He said it would clear up in a few days and she would be back to normal. That gave us hope. My father and I took care of her, but it was all for not. It was like my mother knew she was going. My father had left to get more soup from the neighbor who had been helping with our food for the last few days. I will always remember my mother's voice calling me to her, weak and frail. Not full of life like it always was. I came in and sat down next to her. She waved for me to come closer. I climbed into bed with her and she slowly wrapped her arms around me and laid my head on her chest. I listened to her slow heart beat as she combed her fingers through my hair. I will never forget her words. 'My sweet girl, your the best thing that has ever happened to me….. I will be with you always…I love you, Victoria.' Her last breath was my name. I heard the least breath of her lungs and the last beat of her heart.

I cried for what seemed like forever. I don't know for how long but the sound of breaking glass made me shoot up. My father stood at the doorway, his face white. He moved toward us and I jumped out of bed and against the wall. He picked her up and hugged her to his chest, and sobbed, sobbed so hard that I couldn't take it anymore. I ran, I ran as fast as I could out of my house and down the road to the docks. The docks were bear, the night cold. I couldn't feel the cold, all I felt was sadness. My Mother was gone. My Mother is gone…..I miss her to this day. I miss her with my whole soul. Would she be proud of who I turned into? Would she still love me? I think she would, she had such a kind heart. She would love me no matter what.

Hint: Hover over a field name if you want to know what it's for.

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