Youssef Jordan Monologue

I suppose it's wrong to say that this all started with me. I didn't start this; my father is the reason for the terror everyone in my small-secluded town felt. But no one knows that, except me... and I don't know what I'm going to do. maybe I should explain. My name is Youssef Jordan. I am a very successful surgeon. People wait months, sometimes years to make sure I am the one to do their surgery. I have never failed, never killed one of my patients. I am an icon in the cruel world of medicine. I claim to owe most of my success to my teachers professors, and my parents, the ones who taught me everything. Before today, I never realized that I had to thank my father for so much of my success. Without his interference, I probably wouldn't have gotten into the best University in the country, learned from the best teachers in their fields, or even gotten out of Punchbowl, Sydney, home to many crimes and violence. Twenty years ago he made sure that I was number one, the best at what I do. Then he gave the area and my innocent mother the best reason in the
When I was five, I called it a diary and teased him about it. Then again and again over the years. Last year, when I visited him on my 37th birthday, I remember him saying how it would one day show me that diaries were for the weak minded. I paid no mind to his words. I really wish I had asked him what he meant. Maybe then I would hve had some answers. Maybe I would know why he killed twelve innocent teenagers. No child thinks that one of her parents could ever kill. Children are pure-hearted like that. Always seeing the best in people. I know I never suspected my father to be capable of such an massacre. My father was the hero of my childhood. He held me up like no one else ever had or ever would. He encouraged my dreams and was always so sure I would accomplish them. I wonder now, if he had already made up his mind about 'helping'