Charles Lee Ray. I didn't know why exactly why mother loved him so much. Maybe it was the thrill of adventure that ran through her veins like electricity. The thought of her being 16 and my father 'Chucky' being 23 years old.

She told me he didn't care about age, that it was "just a number," I think it was wrong of her because she should have known better. She knew it was wrong, but to her that's what made it so right. She told me her mother said, "Older men are always more exciting, because they have stories to tell," Which is true, but then again Grandma Valentine is always heard from the mouth of my mother (words could have been changed.). I swear Grandma Valentine should of wrote a damn book. Even in death that lady keeps talking.

I may only be 13, and can't really remember who my father was, but from what my mother told me, he was really 'killer', please all puns intended I am a Ray you know. But still my mom has videos of me as an infant sitting on my father's lap which means he was obviously alive when I was around, and the stories my mother told me had to of been true.

My mother was in "love," With a crazy killer man of the name 'Charles Lee Ray'.

I'm Blair Lee Ray, My mother gave me my father's middle name. At the moment I'm 25 years old and writing this book that people will pass off as horror, or sci fi, fiction, or whatever they want to call it, but to me that was very real.

My mother always told me "Great stories always start at the beginning," So I shall start back to when I was 13 years old living in a trailer with my mother.

I had detention again, why? Because I have a mouth that my teachers don't like. When detention was over I waited an hour for my mother to come, but she never did. This happened again. I was tempted to call Jessie my next door neighbor, but he was going to prom with his girlfriend Jade.

I shoved my dirty blonde hair behind me and put the hood of my black jacket on, and fixed my white gloves. the pant legs were stuffed into my boots to keep from getting wet. I had to wear these pants tomorrow. Don't judge me I only have 4 pairs of pants that fit. Fixing my backpack I began to walk back home.

It was a good three hour walk. When I'm in foster care at least they picked me up. I've always been in and out of the foster system since I could remember. I only remember a few people I met. Some girl named Kyle, and a kid named Andy who was afraid of dolls, but back then I was really young. I was only in that house for two days.

My thoughts continually ran in my head, as to what my mother was doing. My luck she'll be with Dameion, or arrested again.

It was already so late, and rainey. I wasn't one to complain since I dealt with this shit a lot. That was kind of sad for me to say since I was 13.

I may be 13 but I have a system, I take care of my mom, my mom takes care of me. Usually it's me taking care of her. I worry about her sometimes. Her doll obsession is a little crazy.

Any time the words 'Good Guy Doll' came out of someones mouth, ended up in an article, on TV, and anywhere, my mom was on it like it was her new favorite toy. Sometimes it gets a little sad, she'll find a good guy doll recite the little chant, and when it doesn't work she finds herself heart broken and laying in bed crying.

I'm always the one to comfort her, and lay with her in bed. I give her the words of encouragement because I just want to see her smile and not be so sad about it. I honestly shouldn't care since she has turned me aside, when she got news about the doll many a time. Sometimes she makes me feel like the doll is more important.

I think she just has a mental illness. She really does believe the soul of my father is in that doll.

I paused at a street corner waiting for the bus to pass. 'i wish there was a bus to take me home.' I thought to myself. Maybe if I hadn't got detention, I'd already be home cooking dinner. I looked down at the watch on my wrist and sighed, it was already 8:30, only two hours since I got out of detention, but I knew by the smell of pot and alcohol I was nearing the trailer park I lived in.

I live in a purple trailer with my mom, she has her own bed I sometimes sleep in with her, or I sleep on the couch with the purple and black pillows, or sometimes Jessie lets me sleep in his trailer when my mom has Daimon over.

My mother Tiffany isn't a bad woman, or mother. She is great when she wants to be, she is great when she tries, She has just had it hard since My father died. She still had the engadgment ring he left her around her finger.

I honestly think she needs to give this shit up and throw the ring out, but I would never tell her this.

As I step into the trailer park I smile and jog over to the door lifting up our 'Home sweet trailor' Welcome mat and picking up the key before dropping the mat down again and and unlocking the door stepping in.

I could feel something was wrong and the odd quietness. I shut the door and locked it behind me dropping by back pack on the floor. I took my hoodie off and through it on the couch. I pulled my grey t-shirt down over my stomach slowly. I smelled the air. She cooked dinner?

Which meant she had someone special over? did it not go well and she killed him?

Yeah I know about my mom being a killer, i always have, even when i was little. I knew telling would be bad and i would never see her again. She told me. She guilt tripped 5 year old. 'Do you want to be taken from mommy, sweet face?' i was taught at a young age to lie to cops. I hope if my mother decides to have more kids she'll try and change her ways.

I looked around with a distressed look as I tried to look for my mom. "Mom...?," I whispered as I started to walk around, walking over to the oven and looking at the meat balls in the pot on the stove. I grinned to myself and grabbed a fork off the counter and dug right in.

"Well at least you made dinner," I said after i swallowed the meatball. "Makes up for you forgetting to pick me up after detention," I said quietly. I looked over into my mother's room that was in the room next to the kitchen. Bile rose up in my throat at the sight. There she was laying next to Damien's dead body that was tied to the bed, he wore a stripper like outfit.

I walked in and looked over the man dropping my fork on the bed. "Fuck," I muttered looking over his face. His piercings were ripped from his lip, and were still bleeding out. His face was pale from death. I cringed, and looked over to the radio playing music poking the off button quietly so I wouldn't disturb my sleeping mother.

I always ended up picking up a mess she made. I swear she has emotional problems. I mean she did just fall asleep next to her ex's dead body, and from the look of her face she was crying.

I sighed to myself as I began untying the corpse from the bed starting with his hands watching as they dropped limp onto the purple blanket, and then I ended with his feet. I hate feet. I grumbled as I untied them trying my best not to touch his feet with his money like toes. Once he was untied and his feet fell onto the bed, I went to his hands and grabbed them noticing his nails were painted black. i rolled my eyes. I started pulling him off the bed slowly.

His back hit the carpet softly and then I dropped him not caring anymore since it was easier from here. i grabbed his legs and dropped them on the carpet carefully , soon grabbing his waist and began dragging him into the kitchen dropping him by the play pen I use to be locked up in.

I looked into it noticing the torn up good guy doll staring forward. "Oh lovely another one...," I muttered as I looked over it's scarred face. "Weird...If you think I'm calling you daddy-" I stopped myself. "I'm talking to a doll.." I muttered.

"Hi, I'm Chucky, wanna play?," The doll asked in it's creepy doll voice. I snorted.

"Not really," I muttered answering the thing beginning to walk over to the empty chest in the corner of the room opening it. There was enough room to fit Damien inside. Slowly I started pulling Daimen into the box his front half first.

Soon, okay not soon after 20 minutes of pushing, pulling and readjusting the man was in the trunk with a the lock on. I put the key on the counter and sighed sitting on the trunk. It was almost 11 now.

I probably wasn't going to go to school tomorrow anyways. It was my 13th birthday, now I could finally stop just saying I'm 13 when I'm not. Yes, I just say I'm 13, I usually start saying it a month before my birthday.

I got up from the chest and walked back into my mom's room noticing she moved into the middle of the bed. I sighed sadly. I walked over and started putting the blankets over her and kissed her cheek once I was done. I moved her hair from her face and frowned at the smeared makeup. I probably wouldn't ask what was wrong tomorrow knowing it was probably something Damien did.

Once I finished tucking her in, I took my shirt off leaving me in my purple tank top undershirt and jeans, I took off my boots leaving them in the corner of her room. I walked back into the kitchen, putting my long hair into a ponytail and looking around sitting on the trunk, looking back at the doll and shrugging.

I looked at the table behind me and grabbed the opened beer bottle and looked at it. "I'll be 16 in a few years.." I shrugged to the doll and put the glass to my lips and tipping it over gulping the liquid. i immediately gagged taking the bottle away from my lips and setting it on the table. "Now I have nothing to look forward too.." I muttered. "Why am i talking to you? I'm as worse as my mother I swear to god.." I said. "If I start saying 'My mother use to say' Someone better shoot me," I was talking to myself. I walked over to the spider cage making sure my moms pet was in there before sighing in relief.

I walked over to the couch and laid down covering my self in the thin purple blanket. I went to bed knowing my mom would forget my birthday again. last year she had been busy, and this year she probably was going to be as sad as when she went to bed.

I never make a big deal of my birthday anyways. I just keep a cupcake hidden in the fridge and a candle. I make my own wishes on my birthday and don't let anyone know about it.

With that I went to bed...