Birth mother

I laid stretched across the couch in my living, observing the latest stories on CNN. A reported with straight blonde hair appeared on screen with breaking news.

"This just in, I'm hear to report that well known serial killer, Wendy Parks, has escaped from prison. She was last spotted in north Dallas. We believe she is heading to Plano, TX in search of something," she paused, "or someone."

I shuttered. I had heard a lot of stories about the horrifying ways in which Wendy Parks would torture and eventually kill her victims. She's heading towards Plano?! That's where I am right now! What if I run into her?

"Jenna," my mom called me from the kitchen. "Your dad is going to be here soon. Are you ready?"

I just remembered I'm spending the weekend with Dad. I quickly packed my bag with Wendy Parks still on my mind. Okay, now I'm getting as paranoid as Dad. It's not like there is that big of a chance that I will run into a serial killer on the run in broad daylight.

When Dad came to pick me up I decided not to talk about what I saw on the news. If he knew that a deadly serial killer is in town, he wouldn't let me leave the house. Though it turns out, that actually didn't matter since once we arrived at his house he went into his office to work while I just watched TV. After I went through all the channels and saw that nothing was on, I turned to the news. Sure enough, the reporters were still discussing Wendy Parks.

A man spoke this time. "Still no sign of Wendy Parks. We believe that it is an actual person she is after, but we are still unsure who or why."

Having heard enough about Parks, I turned the TV off and went to the attic to have a look for my old drawing book where I use to do my sketches. Everything in the attic was compounded in large boxes. As I rummaged through them, I found something that caught my eye, an adoption form, for me. I'm adopted? My parents never told me that. Who are my real parents? I continued to search through the boxes, looking for my birth certificate knowing that would inform me of who my real parents are.

Found it! I looked were my real parents had signed their names. I gasped, horrified. The signature where the mother signed was the named I feared most, Wendy Parks. Wendy Parks is my biological mother? This can't be!

"DAD!" I called needing to hear the truth. "Could you come hear?"

"What is it, sweetie? Why are you in the attic?" His face fell when he saw me holding my birth certificate knowing that I had discovered the truth.

I had to say it anyway. "Please tell me this murderer is not my real mother?"

Without a word, Dad just nodded. Neither of us knew what to say after that. It was just uncomfortable silence.

"Is everything okay?" I looked up and saw my stepmother. "What is it Jenna?"

"I just found…"

"Its nothing, Laura. We'll talk about it later," Dad said quickly.

Once my stepmother left, I looked at Dad. He seemed to know what I was thinking. "Look, Jenna. I don't want people judging you by who your biological mother is. I think its best we just keep this between us."

I just nodded as he left. To tell the truth, what other people would think of me is the last thing I'm worried about. I had a horrifying feeling that I now I know the real reason Wendy Parks decided to come to Plano.


The next day I awoke to a phone call from an unknown number. I answered it anyway.


"Hello Ms. Mason. This is Peter Johnson from the police station. I'm calling because we have Wendy Parks here in custody and she has requested to see you."

"Um, okay. When should I come?" I know this is not a good idea, but I couldn't help but feel curious about what is would be like to meet my birth mother, even if she is a vicious serial killer.

"Tonight at 9:00," Peter answered and then immediately hung up.

As I drove to the police station, I felt more and more anxious. When I arrived I found Wendy Parks chained to a chair. As I approached her, she did not acknowledge me. With a blank expression, she just looked towards the ground her eyes not moving, her stringy, greased up hair falling over her face.

Before I had a chance to ask her anything, I heard a sudden crash. I looked over to see a tall hooded man approaching me with a knife. I turned me head back to Wendy Parks only to see the empty chair.

Realization suddenly hit me. This was a setup, not the real police station. Wendy Parks had planned to have me killed, her only offspring.

Not wanting to stick around any longer, I got in my car and drove as fast as I could. Where could I go? Wendy Parks most likely knew where I lived. I had to find somewhere to hide, but I knew in my heart, there is nowhere. Once Wendy Parks decided she wanted to end someone's life it was over for them. Not a single person ever escaped from Wendy Parks.

I drove into a dead end on the dark, damp road in the middle of nowhere. I noticed my gas tank read just about empty. A tiny black car slowly approached from behind me.

I knew who it was even before I observed the straggly haired woman get out of the car, holding a weapon I could not make out in the darkness. I stood in the dead end surrounded by tall brick walls. No escape. As of this moment, my life was over.

The End