As silly and ridiculous children's games can sometimes seem, they can also show what the kid playing them might be doing in the future. I'm not sure if it's always like that, but I can tell it was in my case. I did use to play with dolls and pretty toy animals while being a little girl, but I also used to find myself fascinated by the games boys were playing – the ones involving toy guns and justice. I used to want a Barbie, but I also used to want a gun. A real gun.

No, I wasn't going to become a robber of some sort, or work in the police, or anything like that. I needed a gun for another thing.

I have always wanted to live in a better place, a place where people wouldn't be so dumb sometimes; a place where everyone would respect others' rights… a place where no one would ever do anything which isn't fair. I always wanted everything to be fair – if someone did anything bad to me, I did everything to pay them back. And there was that one man who did a very, very bad thing to me.

So I am going to pay him back.

I have been planning this since I was nine years old – no, almost ten. I used to have dreams about him suffering and dying, and used to wake up, scared to death, not sure if I really want to do this or I'm just being stupid. But then I remembered what he has done to me, and my determination always returned.

He hasn't done anything to me in particular, but his actions surely haven't changed my life for the better. I can clearly remember that fateful day – I was sitting in my parents' car, doing nothing, being bored, waiting for them to come out of the grocery store, when I heard those screams. And they were getting louder, louder, and I was so scared I couldn't even understand what exactly the people were screaming – but I'm sure it's a good thing. And right as some guy exited the store, there was that explosion, like the ones I've seen on TV. The car was far enough from the store not to get destroyed with me inside of it, but also close enough for me to take a good look of the man who has left it – and since I was scared to death, I didn't have anything better to do. I can remember him still: he was young – about seventeen years old, I believe, though I'm not sure – and abnormally thin, black hair in a terrible mess, blood splattered on his face, on his striped shirt, and on his hands.

I think I was scarred for life.

Then, my Aunt Rose became my legal guardian. And I started sitting in her house, waiting for the police for catch that homicidal pyromaniac – or whatever it's called – who killed both my parents in that store. But they didn't find him. Actually, they have forgotten they had to find him, as ridiculous as it seems. So, I decided to find him myself. Sure, it wasn't in any way easy, with my over-protective aunt who was afraid to let me out – can't blame her, though – and the utter invisibleness of this man. And, of course, I had to go to school, and… have a life. Sort of. But I have never forgotten about my… mission.

Though, after I've spent more than nine years on my search, I was actually ready to give up hope, but I fortunately didn't. Instead, I met Devi. I met her sometime, somewhere, we talked – she seemed quite depressed and was complaining about a painting with a doll which was evil… or something – and then, she mentioned him. I can't remember what she said, but I just immediately knew it was about him. So I started asking her about questions of all kinds and kept asking until she told me everything. His address. Books he read. Movies he watched. Music he liked. His age. His style. His name.


Johnny C.

Johnny C.

I have found him. I have finally found him. I know where he lives. And soon, he'll be dead. He'll die the same day my parents have died.

That'll be epic.


A/N:So... what do you think? And can anyone tell me how to find a beta here?