Face of Evil

I wish someone else had known, had seen it too. They never listened till it was too late; starting with the neighbor. She loved her son more than anything in the world, until Paul.

Paul was an upstanding, kind citizen. They were married before the year ended, and we often went to the neighborhood barbecues. Then her son started getting bruises and burns, he stopped smiling and when the neighbor and Paul announced their new baby, he stopped appearing at the barbecues.

That’s when Paul’s face started to change, to me. It was hard to figure out at first; why he looked wrong. That’s the only way to describe it.

It took another year before we discovered the neighbor had been letting Paul abuse her son. Only after the boy had escaped, and we opened the door to him standing on our doorstep barely alive. He still lives in our house, taking care of my brother who inherited the house, despite what happened to him in it. What happened to our mother.

When Paul and the neighbor were taken to jail my mother offered to take in their children, as they had no other kin to go to. Little Lucy was a perfect baby, and we all loved her, except my father.

His face didn’t change, didn’t become evil till Little Lucy was four. She would often cry and hide between my brother and hers every time she saw my father. It was puzzling and concerning, as my father never seemed to actually pay any attention to her. My mom started to become suspicious, especially when I would find her in my bed in the morning, wearing different Pjs than I’d helped her change into the previous night.

By then I really understood what I was seeing. The changing faces, plenty of people I didn’t know so well had changed faces and been exposed as criminals. People I passed in the grocery store and then recognized weeks later on the evening news.

I told my brother and the neighbor’s son that something was wrong, that Dad’s face was evil, like Paul’s had been. They didn’t believe me. I tried again and again, I held Lucy in the mornings and promised someone would help us someday. She wouldn't tell me what was happening but she let me hold her while she cried in the morning sometimes. To be honest, she didn't talk much at all.

After Lucy turned six, one night she ran from her room, screaming in pain and fear, her legs naked and covered in blood. We found my father inside.

He murdered my mother that night while she called the cops. My brother got caught in the crossfire and lost the use of his left leg. By that time he was 18, and the neighbors son was as well. He volunteered to care for my brother, and Lucy stayed with them as well. I decided to leave, to live with our aunt and begin to figure out what I could do with this power I seemed to have.

I chose a career that allowed me to use my knowledge of the face of evil to fight it. I was able to notice early on in investigations if something would go wrong. I saved innocents, like Lucy. I took children away from abusive parents and served justice. I was becoming successful in my quest to understand and use the power only I had; but something is wrong.

I’ve known the face of evil my whole life, but I don’t know why it’s looking at me from the mirror.