Forgive and Forget…Or Not: Part I- Nikki Bell

"When you grow up…if you still feel raw about it… I'll be waiting."

-Beatrix Kiddo (Said mere seconds after Jeanie Bell a.k.a. Vernita Green was killed)

Chapter 1: Nicky Bell-Reaction

As she stepped out of the door, being only 4 years old at the time, I was frozen where I stood, though my mind was racing. Flashing back to what moments before I thought must have been a dream, or some figment of my imagination, as I had a vivid one back then.

Mommy laying on the kitchen floor, choking on her own fluids, something impaled in her chest. Her head suddenly slumping to the floor. The blonde woman then kneeling down and removing the knife from my mother's bosom. Hearing her cold, seething, yet sincere words. Hearing the door slam on her way out.

Then there I was, alone, left looking at my mother's dead, lifeless eyes, which had a look of serene depth to them. I didn't focus on her chest, or how she was drenched in blood, or her gory face. Just her eyes. No, I thought. This isn't happening. This can't happen. I abandoned my statuesque position and closed my eyes, tighter than I ever had before, hoping, with all of my might, that when I opened them, my mom would not be on the floor and not have these inhuman eyes and not be…dead.

……..How naïve children can be.

When I opened them, well, you can anticipate what I saw and how real it truly was. I just dropped on the floor and cried. Cried and sobbed like a girl whose mom had just died. But there was this twinge in the back of my mind I couldn't really put my finger on. I smeared my tears all over my face trying to clear my fogged, grief stricken eyes.

Once I could take a ready glance, I saw the living room in shambles. Glasses and plates broken and strewed around the room. The coffee table in pieces. My paper machete heart I made mommy was cracked in two. But it was not those that caught my attention, but rather what was barely visible among them. A thin, rather ethereal looking hair. A blonde hair.

It was then, while tears were still streaming like a flood out of my eye sockets, that I realized what was truly crying about. Not like a girl whose mom had just died. Like a girl whose mom had just been murdered. Even as a 4 year old I knew what one person killing another meant, and seeing it happen just heightened my sense of the word.

The blonde woman. "Beatrix", I remembered her say her name was. I had so many questions. Why did she come here? Why did she kill Mommy? Why didn't she kill me? My mama had it coming, she said. And I was going to find out why. And then, with more conviction and surety than anything that was ever uttered, I promised out loud, "I'm going to kill her."

I know I didn't understand much in the world then, and hell, I still don't now, but to this day, a full 13 years later, I don't remember ever saying anything else as resolute as I had then. And not once in my life after that had I deviated from my promise. In fact, it's what led me to this exact moment.

I mean, when you've reached the end of the path you've taken in your life, you think about when you started it. And its fitting, seeing as how I am about to be killed, as my mother, my sister, my mentor, and many others have before me, by none other than Beatrix Kiddo, the "Black Mamba".

NEXT CHAPTER: Nikki Bell/Sofie Fatale- Answers

Hey everyone! This is my very first fanfic and hopefully the first of many. I'll take any reviews, just try not to get too cruel! D (Please Review)