Never had I seen one woman so peaceful on her deathbed as my mother. Her hair, dark as the velvet night sky, was sprawled over the eggshell pillow upon which her head rest, each strand curled gently and naturally. Her pale, blue eyes watched me so calmly, so lovingly; and her smile triggered every emotion with its full, red lips.

Placing my hand upon hers, I felt a surge of pitiful sorrow. I couldn't help feeling as though her pending demise had been my fault. Of course, it hadn't been my fault and I knew exactly whose it was, but being in the state she was in, I didn't dare mention such a name.

"Philip," she whispered, low and coarse. "Son, I need you to do me a favor."

"Oh, mother, anything," said I, and I meant it. This woman raised me, on her own, since my father had passed when I was a young lad. She deserved the world. I'd gladly exchange my own life for the chance that my mother might live another day.

"You see, I don't have much time left…"

"No," I interrupted. "Mother, hush, you…"

"Philip! I'm dying," she wheezed.

I fell silent, but I could feel a fountain of tears welling up in my eyes. I struggled to choke down my emotions.

"Take revenge, son," she said at last.

After blinking away oncoming tears, I gazed hard and thoughtful into the blue pools that were her eyes. They reflected pure hatred and I knew for exactly who those eyes were meant. I remained silent and waited for her to continue.

"Find him, and kill him. Mark his watery grave; you must do this."

Still, I said nothing, but felt the same need to avenge her; I was simply taken aback by the fact that she wished him dead as well as I had. My eyes glowered with an overpowering sense of determination. Now, wasting away by the second, mother's pale face twisted into a look of pure agony. She began to groan and grit her teeth. And the fault rested with him; he was to blame for the pain she was going through on this fine spring day.

"Phil, I don't have much time left."

"Shh…don't t-talk," I stuttered, becoming aware of the single tear that now stained my face.

She smiled warmly as death sucked out the final glow of her eyes. Her hand brushed away my lone tear and with all the energy she could muster, she said, "And I'll always watch over you." Then she breathed one long, last sigh and her dimmed eyes were lost beyond eternal darkness.

That was it: all I had in life was no more. And after mother's death, I came to live a quietly amongst the other nobodies along the coast; but all this time, I wasn't merely feeling sorry for myself; I was plotting. One day, he responsible for mother's death would pay dearly with his life, and for fifteen years after her death, I would think of nothing else and I won't rest until I have the pleasure of instilling fear into those eyes that took the glow from my mother's.