I Fell for a Cannibal

By R.J. Adams

Rayne lives a naive life with her father in her own world. She is his princess and he treats her like so. Everything to her is, perfect. Until one day when her world is turned upside down, and everything she thought she knew was never as it seemed. Can Rayne come to terms with the deceit, the lies and the people she thought she knew? As her life unravels around her, Rayne must learn to adapt to survive and uncover the truth, no matter what.

• Language: English
• Publisher: R.J. Adams
• Release date: Mar 16, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005897932

R.J. Adams

'Live each day as if it was your last as only you can make your dreams come true.'

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Chapter 1

The sun shines through the window creating a warm feeling on my skin. It almost feels like a summer day. If I close my eyes, I can picture the beach, hear the ocean waves coming and going. The feeling of the sand filtering between my toes.

My mind is my escape, when the bad dreams and the memories fade, my imagination becomes my solace. My playground of fantasies.

I stare at the blue sky wondering, what it’s like beyond the clouds. Beyond the sky. Where the world would end, and heaven would begin.

If I died, would I look as I am now? Would I be wearing what I am wearing now or in heaven do you get flowing white gowns that sweetly flow along the floating clouds of heaven as you glide along with it.

What if I didn’t go to heaven, what if I went to hell for being the daughter of a monster?

Do we also carry the sins of our parents? Does that they do hold us accountable too? Strange thought I guess, to think of death, to think of what may happen when you die. But when you have seen the things I have seen, then, well, it wouldn’t be hard not to think about it.

How are you feeling today Rayne?

I stare intensely out of the window wanting to be free, wanting to not think of this anymore or be here. Therapy will be good for you they said, it will help you they said. All it has done so far is make me go over the same horrific details, things I don’t want to think about. I feel, okay, I guess.

Anymore nightmares? her tone is soft. Her caring blue eyes look deep into me, she reminds me of a grandmother. Not my therapist. Her shawl draped over her shoulders and her glasses perched on the end of her nose as she writes her notes whenever I speak.

No, no-more nightmares, well, not this week anyway. I think being around Josh has helped. When he isn’t there, I guess my nerves are more on edge.

What do you mean?

Well, since all this, I feel like people are trying to hunt me down – find me. Punish me.

That is your anxiety and over time that will ease. No-one is coming for you, none of what happened was your fault.

Maybe, I suppose it wasn’t although I never took part and only found out when all the horror came to light. But people don’t see things that way, they see what the media tells them. The ‘she must have known’ whispers and the evil stares that follow.

Why oh! why couldn’t my father just be a normal person, why did he have to do what he did?

Have you had more visions?

I look at her, my mind thinking, not since I’ve moved to the other house. I can’t go back to our old house. I was thinking of putting it up for sale but who is going to want to buy it? It’s like the Amityville. Everyone knows what happened there.

Yes, I have two houses, one where everything happened and one no-one knows about. I suppose it’s good that no-one knows about it otherwise I would have the media there too.

I hate waking up every morning with the, stood outside, just waiting for a glimpse of me so they can bombard me with questions. Haven’t they had enough?

Every sordid detail published, every part of my life, photos, what more could they need from me? When will they let this go?

You could try and sell it, see what happens, maybe let it go and use that sale to move on.

I suppose I could, if I could, I don’t know, maybe I’m not ready to let it go, deep down. I mean, I grew up there, it’s my family home.

Do you still see it as a family home?

I don’t know, I shrug, maybe, just from the memories I had there but I can’t live there, not anymore.

The house holds nothing for me now, yes, memories, beautiful, wonderful memories of that house but now, tarnished by what has happened.

Well, then maybe you should try and sell it and only take those memories you cherish with you. Forget what happened. Her voice softens, Rayne, you have to try and move on otherwise you will never feel release from all this.

Yeah, easier said than done how can I? I still think of my father as this kind, loving person. But then, I know what he did, he was sick, psychotic, and yet, in my heart, I love him. Does that make me bad? To love a man like that?

No, she says, her mouth curling up into a tiny smile, you see your father as you see him, not what happened. You experienced life in a different way to the way he was when he did all those things. You have said before how wonderful your childhood was, how wonderful he was with you. I think, there is nothing wrong with loving the man you knew as your father.

I did have a wonderful childhood. Anything I wanted I had. You must think I’m a spoilt brat, got anything I wanted.

My dad treated me like a princess, I was his one and only. It was just him and me. My mother left when I was so young. I remember the day I woke up, ready for breakfast, excited because that day, we were all going to buy my first pair of dancing shoes. I wanted to be a prima ballerina, I sucked but I was eager to learn. So, my mother said we could go buy shoes. I came running down the stairs filled with glee and excitement by my mother wasn’t there. I searched but never found her, all I saw was my father sat on the sofa, his face so sad, his fingers linked together as he leaned forward staring at the wall.

He never told me what happened, just that she didn’t want us anymore and she left. I never thought to press my father for details. I mean, if a woman doesn’t want to be with her child why would I bother to chase her?

Well, he was the only one I had, and he never ever hurt me. I feel, ashamed to love a man who did that to all of those people? And as much as I love him, a part of me hates him too. I hate him for what he put me through. I hate him for what he did to those people. I hate him for making my life now so that when I go out people stare, point, whisper. Everyone knows who I am. No matter where I go. I hate him for that. But I love him too. My eyes begin to well up as emotion overcomes me. How could he do this? Now I must have weekly therapy sessions because my doctor ordered me to when I began to have nightmares of it all. Began hallucinating and having panic attacks as I wasn’t sure what was real and what wasn’t.

I guess you wonder what my father could have done that was so awful?

Well, then I guess you should know, I am the daughter of a serial killer.

Chapter 2

How did I not know you might ask? Well, not that easy to know something that is so well hidden. So carefully planned out that for years it went undetected.

I never once heard those people scream, I never once saw my father burying bodies in our garden or even offloading them from any vehicle.

I wasn’t sheltered, I wasn’t hidden away in some closet whilst my father carried out his evil deeds. I was in the house playing, like a normal child.

My father would play dolls with me and have pretend tea parties and encourage me to practice my ballet around the living room. He was wonderful. But never once did I see something I should not have seen or heard something that made me fear for my