Chapter Four: Retaliation
When you're young, nothing matters. Nothing scares you, nothing makes you embarrassed, and you're just so care free. I was like that once. I was once happy. There was a time when I wore bright colors and my favorite things in the world were unicorns and rainbows. I was seven and I remember being the happiest child you could imagine. My parents were together and we lived in a small house in Azusa with a big front yard with lots of grass and flowers. My mom loved to garden. She'd have all these pots filled with exotic plants and flowers. I would love to watch her at work, humming show tunes. I'd sing with her and she'd turn to me and smile. She'd say, "Jadelyn you have a beautiful voice. You'll make it big someday." And I'd giggle and she'd go back to work. Those were the days. Then, one day I came home from school to find my mom's plants and flowers ruined. I ran into the house where everything was a mess; the sofas were upside down and broken, the TV had a big crack on it, broken dishes decorated the kitchen floor. It was total chaos. I remember calling for my mom, but she was nowhere to be found. I ran around the house searching for her, but I couldn't find her. Then I heard my dad calling my name and I ran to him. He hugged me and told me we had to go. He didn't even give me a chance to ask any questions. He packed both our things and escorted me to the car. I remember him buckling me into the booster seat and me asking, "Where's mommy?" He refused to respond. The last thing I remember was us driving away, leaving the house I had grown to love so much behind. And my mom? Well, that was the last time I ever saw her.
I spent the next nine years living in Los Angeles with my dad. After a while, I stopped questioning my dad about my mom because he never gave me a straight forward answer. I gave up trying to find out what happened to her. I began slowly forgetting her. My dad was now busier than ever. He worked all the time, he worked weekends. I began spending more and more time alone. The more I spend time alone, the more I let go of the helpless little girl I used to be. I put her aside along with the many memories of my mother. I began to embrace this new persona; Jade. I no longer went by Jadelyn, as my mother had been the only person to call me by my full name anyway, and she was now gone. I began to wear dark colors and listen to really depressing music. Being depressed all the time helped suppress the memories of my mom. I began to take my dolls and smash their heads with hammers and burn their bodies with the lighters my father left lying around. I began to sing about death, dying, being dead, and everything in between. My father, the once
My father did assure me one thing, my mom wasn't dead, at least not physically anyway. But he'd always say she was as good as dead to him. He'd always say she did him dirty. I don't know what happened that day, but from that day on, my dad changed. He became more and more distant as if he had just completely given up on life. He pushed me away and I had to become my own person. He forced me to grow up.
Beck was the best thing that had ever happened to me after my mom disappeared. He understood me because he didn't have a good relationship with his parents either. He knew what it was like to be ignored and to grow up on your own. I loved him. He loved me too, until the day Tori Vega showed up at Hollywood Arts. Tori instantly became Beck's priority. He'd deny it, but I knew it for a fact. I hated Tori. That is why Tori is dead.
Lookng up at my attacker, I saw Tori's face. As he tried to force himself on to me, I saw nothing but Tori's face, Tori's body, Tori's smile…Tori's disgusting happy smile. I lost it.
With sudden new found strength, I managed to wrestle my way up, putting my arm around the man's throat, Tori's throat. I had killed her once and I was damn sure I could do it again. I felt for my knife and once I felt the smooth wooden handle, I grabbed it and stabbed the man right in the head, Tori's head.
"Die bitch! Die!" I was screaming with rage as I continuously stabbed him. Hot blood trickled down the knife handle and onto my hand. I knew the man was dead, but I kept stabbing and stabbing. I felt as if I was killing Tori all over again. When I've had enough, I kicked open the door and kicked the body out, its blood spilling onto the wild grass. I then slammed the door shut and got into the driver's seat. I looked at myself in the mirror and saw a different person. If I was going to be a fugitive, I'd have to become a whole new person. Without giving it a second thought, I grabbed my knife, still bloody, and began to cut my hair. I snipped it until it was less than shoulder length. I looked in the mirror again. Now I really looked like a different person.