My mother’s big brown eyes were warm and pleasant. She was so inviting as her brown hair waved down her back, but her eyes could turn black and colder than any winter I experienced. I watched her kill person after person. The last of the loving bond I had for her rotted away. I watched her shoot people between the eyes as they stood before me, and making me do the most unspeakable acts. These people had lives and families. Once they discovered me, purposely or accidental, their fate was sealed by my mother.
My father didn’t look warm like her, he looked evil. He wasn’t the kind of father a little girl would run to. His scary eyes… almost black, and his blond hair slicked back. He looked menacing as his empty eyes always looked for the next threat.
They homeschooled me, of course. I wasn’t trusted among regular people, and my parents didn’t trust people with me. I was smart but my parents didn’t push education on me; they pushed defence training. My fighting skills were mastered, they trained me to kill and to protect myself. They were making me like them, and as years passed, I became numb to the havoc. Their executions made my body ooze with guilt, and I forgot how to flinch when the gun went off.
My situation was different, they would say. Sure, different…
And for them I was the greatest gift that would never be shared.