The Black House

My submission to 

Mid-Week Blues-Buster Week 2.29

–          The Black House
Cecilia paused in the doorway, taking a deep breath before stepping further into the kitchen.  It had been three years since she’d seen the house.  Three years of self-discovery, eight tattoos, a Mohawk and countless hair colors along the way to discover who she was.  She had done everything to escape this house.  She didn’t want to come back, not when everything seemed so right.  For the first time in her life…she was happy.  Cecilia didn’t think there was anything for her here.  The phone call made her realize how wrong she was.  There was something she had never been able to leave behind.  Her mom’s news would have been something to cheer about if she was someone else.  If it had been someone else’s family but not her own.
Dark cobwebs clung to every surface, everything looked so unclean and old.  Had she really been gone so long?  It left a bitterness on her tongue, Cecilia glanced to the large bottle in her hand before taking a large drink of the moonshine washing away the disgust.  She coughed immediately as the bottle retreated from her lips.  Her chest burned from the strong liquor.  A few more steps through the kitchen to the living room, the floorboards screeched with each step.  It was a mixture of preaching and scalding, telling her she was nothing more than trash.  She’d heard it all before in one tone or the other.
Every corner had a story, twenty years’ worth of her own living nightmares.  She was less than human to him, only because she was born wrong in his eyes.  He was supposed to be her biggest fan, biggest protector but he was the monster she feared in the dark.  Taking another drink she started the trek up the stairway, most of the steps were loose now.  Rails were missing from the banister as she reached the top, she remembered being pushed through them not too many years before she left.  The fall hurt but less than the beating she had taken afterwards, all because of the piercing in her nose.  How impure and evil he said it made her.  Each inch of the old house reminded her of a scar on her body.
Her hands trembled approaching her bedroom again.  It was at times her only sanctuary.  She’d push the chair against the door, he couldn’t budge it from there.  It would give her hours to escape into her world of knights and brave warriors of both sexes.  But sooner or later she would have to leave and he would always be waiting.
It made her sick.  Cecilia thought about her mom’s mumbled words over the phone, “I’m pregnant.”  She had hung up right after, knowing she was going to have to come back.  There was no hesitation.  Four hours on the road gave her a lot of time to think of what she was going to say.  How was she going to convince her mom to leave?  To get away from him, even though it never worked before.  The closer she got, the more upset and nervous it made her.  Three years and not a word spoken between them.  What would she say to the man who tortured her for so many years?  Left her broken and scared. 
She lowered herself to one knee picking up the knife with her blood soaked hand.  His limp frame in the corner of her sanctuary.  She muttered still seeing her actions in her mind, “No more scars.”  

3VisD #1

*waves*  Hello out there… I know it has been awhile, but i’m still out here.  Work has been keeping me really busy and i’ve found it hard to find time to do any flash fiction challenges.  Or maybe I was blocked for awhile there and I used work as an excuse.  Either way, here I am.  It’s also NaNoWrimo and I wish everyone who is participating the best of luck!  You can do it!

Go over to Anonymous Legacy to see the other entries to this weeks 3VisD!!  I started to work this into my nanowrimo…but instead, decided to do something different.  Which would have been easy, because these were easy images to write too!  I didn’t include all three though.  Enjoy!

                He saw his reflection in the water, it was regal his mother would say.  His brown eyes were those of peace and love.  His mother was a rare sight to him but he always knew when she was there.  The flowers themselves would shine brighter with the happiness she radiated.
                “My prince.”  He turned to look at them, he could never see their faces for their hoods and he wondered if he could see into those shadows what would he see.  They spoke with an accent he had never heard and he had traveled all of the free lands from the borders of the elven forest to the valleys of trolls.  “The sun and the moons are nearly one,” he turned looking to the purple skies; the two moons were close to the sun closing in from each direction.  He had never witnessed such an event and his father said it was something only to occur every thousand years. 
                “Will this hurt?”  He knew he sounded weak and his father would not approve.
“Only for a moment.”  He could never tell which of the three spoke.
                “Thank you.”  He turned taking a deep breath lowering into the water, it felt more than hot, on the edge of boiling.  He stood, the water washing over his long hair and through his thick beard.  He glared upward as the dagger pierced his skull and he realized the priest lied as he screamed out in agony.  Felt as if his soul was being ripped from his body.  He turned, his vision went dark but he could still see.  He looked again to his reflection, gone was the handsome young man.  Looking back at him now was the bringer of death to the lands he once called home.

Mid Week Blues Buster #24

So after a long absence from flash fiction…  I’m back, if just for one week.  I kinda cheated…I wrote most of this entry for a previous Mid Week Blues Buster that I never posted…  Lucky I think it worked for this weeks too.  🙂  Hope you enjoy.  (Click here, to visit and read all of the other entries into this weeks Mid Week Blues Buster).             
—————–
                  The cabin was miles away from the nearest neighbor, just the way Derrick liked it.  It was his place to escape the hassle of being the county sheriff.  He tossed small logs onto the fire; it was the only source of heat to fight the cold night’s air.  He could hear the storm grow fiercer outside on the tin rooftop.  The loud crack of thunder sent chills up his back, the storm had set in and it would be hours before it broke.  The knock came as loud as the thunder.  He crossed the small distance to the door taking the pistol from the small table by the door and putting it in the back of his jeans.  He cracked the door open enough to see his visitor before opening it further but there was no room for anyone to squeeze past him.  “I’m not letting you in here, Devon.”
                “Come on, sugah,” her smile was wicked and cut sharper than any knife.  “It’s raining and I’m soaked.”
                “I can see that,” the sun dress hung to every curve, “doesn’t mean I have to let you in here again.”

                She ran a finger across her lips; eyes shifted out to the pouring rain and then back to Derrick.  Of course he was going to let her in.  He shifted from the door allowing her to pass.  She never stopped until she reached the warmth of the hearth.  He placed his pistol back inside the chest with his badge.

                “I’ll get you a towel.” 

                “Making a mistake Derrick, her husband finds her here again he isn’t so stupid to believe some fairytale this time.”  He grabbed the towel from the shelf before heading back into the living room, he saw her dress laid out across the counter and his heart beat faster.  She was trouble.  He came into the room expecting to see her naked but instead she sat on a blanket by the fire wearing one of his oversized shirts.

                “I hope you don’t mind,” she smiled. 

                “I do,” he replied.  “I told you last time, no more.”

                “Please,” she stood crossing the small expanse between them, her hand resting on his stomach.  “We both know you didn’t mean it.”

                “You’re making a fool out of a lot of people,” Derrick stated watching her bite on her lower lip. 

                “You’re no fool,” he ran his hand down the side of her face seeing the small reminder of a bruise on her cheek healed weeks past.  “I’m not asking you to be my hero.”  He smiled.  She replied with a smile of her own.  Her smile was the definition of wicked, enough to bring any many to his knees.

                “You need to leave,” he started to pull away but found himself falling into the couch.  She positioned herself on his lap and he looked away avoiding eyes contact.

                “No one knows I am here,” she replied.  “This cabin in the woods, it is such a perfect place to escape from the rest of the world.  I understand why you love it here.”  He felt his heart race as he looked into her eyes.
                “You are trouble.”

                “Mama always said it shoulda been my middle name.”  She leaned in for a kiss and Derrick obliged, her lips tasted of cherry chapstick.  He shifted her weight standing and carrying her across the room softly laying her down on the floor in front of the fireplace.  He brushed the red hair from her face feeling her legs wrap tightly around his waist as she smiled. 

                “Your husband catches you here…”

                “You don’t have any worries when it comes to my husband, baby,” she smiled leaning up for another kiss.

                Derrick leaned up removing his shirt throwing it to the floor.  It was then he saw the flashing lights as they danced through the curtains, blue lights waltzed into the cabin grabbing every shadow as he looked down at her.  “What did you do?”

                She smirked.  There was a confidence hidden in her devilish eyes and he knew now why she had come to him.

Mid Week Blues Buster 13

Click here, yes, here!  Go check out all the other entries to this weeks Mid Week Blues Buster!

Unexpected Trip

David did not mind the walking.  He had been doing it for days knowing there would come a time when it would be too much.  For now he did not have the nerve to hitch.  The car sped past him by several feet before the turn signal lit up.  He recognized the car.  It was at the motel where he had spent the night and the small road side diner where he ate breakfast.  He had never seen the driver though.  It pulled off to the side with emergency blinkers flashing.    David stopped looking behind the way he came and part of him wanted to turn back.  He could see cigarette smoke escape the driver’s door just before the passenger door swung open…
“I’ve seen horror movies start this way,” he mumbled aloud.
He approached the door slowly peaking inside.  “Where are you heading?”  He remembered her now, the woman with the red hair and tight jeans a couple of the truckers had made rude comments toward but she never gave them a second look.
“California.”
“Not a bad man are you, sugah?  My momma always warned me about those bad boys.  Of course she failed to mention to me they were the most fun.” 
He immediately thought her accent was from northern Georgia or southern Tennessee.  “I like to think not.”
“Throw your bag in the backseat and climb in,” she turned looking at him. Her lips were strawberry red, matching her wavy hair as it fell down on her shoulders.  Her face was thin with a sharp nose.  He noticed mostly her big green eyes, friendly eyes. 
“All right.”  He tossed his bag into the back seat before climbing into the passenger seat.  He glanced into the mirror on his side, heart still racing.  He knew this could have been a mistake, every story in his life that started with a beautiful woman ended in some sort of misery.  “Where are you from?”
“Chattanooga,” she replied.  “Heading to Vegas.”  She looked to him flashing her big smile.  He was certain of it now, this woman was trouble.  She was someone who could get almost anything she wanted with a flash of her smile.  “You?”
“Atlanta,” he replied. 
“Running to or from something?”
“Away from,” he replied.  He wanted to say from someone with a smile like yours.
She reached to the glove box opening it and his heart stopped when he saw the pistol, eyes wide he looked too her and then back to the glove box.  “Don’t worry, sweetie.”  She flipped around a moment until the badge was just as visible as the gun.  “You’re safe as can be.”  Federal Bureau of Investigations, but his heart still raced.  “What’s your name?”  He watched as she pulled a new pack of cigarettes out closing the door in the process.
“David.”
“Trisha.”
They’d traveled the better part of the day when she pulled into the gas station, David was happy to get a chance to stretch his legs.  “Pump the gas for me will you.”  David circled to the driver’s door as Trisha messed around in the trunk and then headed into the station.
The trunk of the car squeaked open, and he let his curiosity get the best of him as he opened it further.  His heart nearly stopped.  The man was in suit, black and professional with his hands bound and gag in his mouth.  “Ah, sugah, hate to give you the wrong impression.”  He looked up to see Trisha with her arms crossed and big confident smile.  He looked back to the man with his cold blank expression; the felt of the trunk was covered in blood.  An open duffle bag at his back filled with money.  “That there is what happens to bad, bad men.”

Dirty Goggles Blog Hop: (Dieselpunk) Last Kings

Have you written anything for the Dirty Goggles Blog Hop?  We’re officially on the last day, still time!

Last Kings
Steven Paul Watson
Dieselpunk
Safe
He had resorted to calling himself Clinton, it wasn’t his birth name but it didn’t matter anymore.  The train moved swiftly, they’d jumped aboard two stops before escaping being discovered.  The pistol on his hip was down to four shots and often checked the revolver to be sure they were still there.  He peered to the dark sky above, knowing what he needed.  It was what he wanted, to soar in the sky again.
The rustling noise grabbed his attention; he turned walking to his companion.  He called her Jinx.  He only knew she was a refugee much like him.  He knew she was from the Ukraine or somewhere; it all sounded the same to him, a Tennessee boy far from home.  He wanted to call her exotic, but it did not do her justice.  A world stuck in turmoil and chaos, he found himself on the run with possibly the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.  Her eyes were closed, he smiled watching as her chest rise and fall softly knowing she wasn’t asleep.  She never slept.  He lowered his hand to her face running it from her ear to her chin to her other ear without touching.  It was enough; she could feel the static from his finger and smiled opening her dark hazel eyes.
“What is wrong?”  She spoke little English but it was enough.
“The better question would be is anything right.”  The war was over they said, but it was all a lie.  A momentary lull before hell was unleashed at the end of the Second World War.  They never saw it coming, the technology the enemy had unleashed.  Or the ally they had on their side.  Explosions rocked the world.  Stories of aliens filled the airways.  Other stories said it was robots.  Clinton had seen with his own eyes, the large scaled creature with wide yellow eyes.  It was nightmares come to life though he was sure he had never had any nightmare quite so horrifying. 
“Tomorrow, we will be to the airstrip,” she sat up reaching the bag in front of her.  She pulled the bottle free, they had run out of water and now only the strong bourbon remained.  “You can fly us right?”

“If it has wings I can fly it, darling,” he smiled pushing her hair behind her ear.  He reached into his shirt pocket pulling the crushed blue lily free and placing it in her hair.  She only smiled.
“Where?”
He turned away from her approaching the train door opening.  It was the question he had no answer for.  Last reports, there were still resistance in the States but failing.  And Jinx had no reason to return home either.  “Africa, maybe.”
“Lions, I always wanted to see lions,” she stood beside him handing the bottle of liquor to him.  “Kings of their world.”
“No more than we are now,” he took a big drink and coughed. 
Clinton found himself again looking at the moon; he’d never look at the sky the same way again.  “I thought you could handle strong liquor,” she leaned into him.
He could, or at least the moonshine from the hills of Tennessee and Kentucky but what she had was different.  It burned deep down inside him.
“What do we do when we get there?” she looked at him with a big smile, almost innocent but Clinton knew she wasn’t. 
“Just need some place, remote, to hide from the world for awhile.”  When he had found Jinx she was covered in blood.  Her snipers rifle on her back, she had preferred the close kill with the garrote string in hand and body at her feet.  He had no doubt she was more deadly than him.
“Is it possible we are the last?”
“The last?” he turned to face her and she leaned in.  He wrapped his arms around her pulling her tight against him.  “The last of the resistance in Europe, maybe.”
“Possibly the word by years end,” she replied leaning away from him.
He leaned in kissing her on the forehead, “Yes, but as long as there are others, just a few, there is hope.”

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Mid-Week Blues Buster Week 12

(I know I’ve used this picture before, no idea where I found it….probably goggle   Anyways, click it to check out all the other entries in this weeks Mid Week Blues Buster).
Understanding
I never understood…

I never understood much when it came to people.  I always spent more time avoiding them than trying to assimilate.  I felt like it was meant for me to be alone, to be invisible.  I thought that was what I wanted.  Introspective people liked to call me.  Behind my back I had no doubt they either called me antisocial…emo…a snob or any other judgmental phrase they wanted to.  It was all about labels. 

In the end people scared me.  I always felt like they were judging me.  Looking at me with their deceptive eyes, lying saying they cared or were interested in me.  So no one was more shocked and surprised than me when I found myself falling in love.  She wasn’t the first woman to pay attention to me.  She was the first that didn’t put up with my bull and broke through every wall I put in her way.  I regret that now, I put up a lot of walls for her.  She was just different and I knew it from the moment I looked into her eyes.  The moment I talked to her on the phone the first time, there was a connection there that was indescribable.  Almost magnetic. 

I wanted to run.  I have never been so scared in my life.  Truly terrified and I think she knew it.  There were times, lapses; I think she was just being nice.  The strange guy who used to tell her she was beautiful, called her princess, or tried to surprise her by being romantic even though I had no clue how.  I would do anything to make her smile.  It warmed my heart and for a moment it gave me a purpose in life.  I never had it before, a friend who I trusted and thought was always going to be there.  No matter how big of a screw up I was.  She was always going to be there.

I’d known for two months before I said those words to her, words I had never said to any other woman in my life and knew I meant it.  I didn’t want to hear it back.  I never said it to hear it back.  For the first time I wanted someone to know how I truly felt about them.  She did say it back, there was hesitation and I think my heart stopped in that time but she did.

“Do you remember?” 

“Yes,” I smile.  I was listening to her but she is giving me that look because she thinks I was off in my own little world.  I guess in part I was…I sit here listening to her talk about him and I’m thinking about us.  She doesn’t look into my eyes like she once did and every time it seems our eyes meet for just a moment too long she looks away.  Down to the shiny new ring on her left hand and smiles.  It’s a different smile than I think she ever gave me.  I smile for her.  I can’t help it.  Her smile always made me smile, even though I know it’s not meant for me.  I know I will never touch her again.  I know I will never kiss her lips again.  Or say I love you and mean it the way I want to say it.  I smile because the one person I love most in this world is happy.

Dirty Goggles Blog Hop: (Steampunk) Revenge Lulllaby

(Don’t own the image, found it on pininterest)

Revenge Lullaby
Steven Paul Watson
Steampunk
Safe for most, contains violence.

                Edena could still taste the liquor on her lips.  She had been in London three nights, waiting with a single purpose in mind, revenge.  The letter rested inside her jacket pocket.  Still unaware of who sent it, “he is in London” is all it said.  She knew what she wanted, he was a psychopath and she was here to end his life.
                She watched each man as they entered, hoping it would be the one she hunted.  Most men watched her, ogled her breasts made more evident by her corset but none approached even at their drunkest.  Her straight red hair rested on her shoulders while goggles with two different colored lenses covered her green eyes.  The goggles had their purpose; she could monitory each person as they entered.  Noticing any weapons they may have carried, most importantly she could screen body temperatures.  She hunted something more than a psychopath, he was a demon responsible for the death of her young sister.
                The weapon resting in the bag at her feet was just as unique.  She had sought out an engineer many had called insane with his ideas.  There were no other explanations for his talents except he was possessed by evil, many people whispered when she came looking for him.  Edena simply thought V.H. Abraham was a genius.  He claimed to know much of what she hunted and would aide her in any way he could.  She thought he seemed to be in his late sixties but spoke as if he came from another time.  He had showed her how to use it, similar to the military’s Gatling.  Six tubes loaded with three inch long silver spikes.  Abraham assured her it would do exactly what she hoped, aim for the heart and pull the trigger.
                Edena nearly jumped from her seat when he entered; she would have known him without her goggles.  He carried himself different than anyone, an untouchable swagger knowing he was better than any man.  She sat the box on the table in front of her, pulling the crucifix pen from her necklace placing it in a small key hole.  She twisted it around like a dial four turns until she heard the mechanical click inside.   The sound of bells began to ring out a child’s lullaby.  The man set his sights on her the moment he heard the music.  He crossed the room taking a seat across from her and removed his top hat sitting it on the table.  “Madam, do I know you?”
                Edena’s finger circled the top of the box while the other hand remained hidden from sight pulling her weapon from its hiding spot.  Edena gritted her teeth fighting the urge to strike, every muscle in her body tensed with anger.  “You knew my sister.”
                “If she had a face like yours I do not know how I could forget,” his eyes drifted from her lips to her throat finally rested on the soft flesh of her breasts before he found her eyes again.
                “Boston.” The lullaby continued she had to wait just a minute longer for it to end.
                He grinned, careful not expose his teeth.  “Yes, fresh, young and innocent something you’re not.  I remember her now.  I remember how she tasted.  How she screamed.”  He smiled revealing enlarged canines.  She felt her heart bounce up into her throat and he noticed.
                The lullaby ended and the gears in the box clicked opening a small trap door.  He tilted his head focusing on the opening.  The swarm of small mechanical mosquito’s emerged.  Abraham had promised her the small insect like mechanisms would be attracted to his decaying flesh.  The demon jolted swatting at them, each one causing marvelous blue flames on impact.
                Edena stood, knocking her own chair over in the process, pulling the trigger swiftly and repeatedly.  The first shot struck his shoulder.  The second and third shot missed.  The fourth and fifth connected but in nonfatal hits.  He titled releasing a shrill horrifying scream, ignoring the insects, exposing his teeth and intent as she shot her final shot.  Flames and ash replaced his flesh and she smiled.  She had her revenge.

(693 Words)

(Don’t own the image, found it on pininterest)
Still three days left to get your entries in for the Dirty Goggles blog hop (click to get all the rules and guidlines)!

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VisDare 18: Inspect

So i’ve skipped a few weeks of VisDare…not really from choice as much as being blocked. But i’m back this week with a new installment, and once again i’m continuing the previous story following Alan and Kimberly. So yeah, this is the fifth installment. 🙂 (part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) There are links to all the previous entries. Coming soon in the next couple weeks I will put up a master post so less clicking…I just didn’t have time to do it this week. So here goes!

 
(As always, click the image to go to Anonymous Legacy and view all the other wonderful entries into Angela’s prompt!)
The two of them leaned with their backs to the railing watching a young father with his kid down the dock with a fresh catch.  Alan turned looking at her hazel eyes and quickly forced a smile before looking out at the water.  The fog had started to burn away and with it the dark water.
“Most guys come into the bar with clear intentions; it’s a game to them.  They stalk the bar, looking for a desirable prey.”  She placed her hand on his, “How long has it been?”
 “Three months.”  Alan paused.  “If I told you I made mistakes, I’m where I’m at by my own faults?”
Kimberly replied.  “We’ve all made mistakes.  What’s important is I can see it, even now you’re thinking of her.”
“For the only time in my life, it made sense.  Everything in my life made sense.  And now she is gone.”

Dirty Goggles: Looking for Inspiration?

So the cat is out of the bag…

The Dirty Goggles Blog Hop!!!

(Don’t own the image)

I’m helping with my first blog hop along side two amazing writers Jenn (Brewed Bohemian) and Ruth (Bullish Ink)!

For those who haven’t seen Jenn’s update (The Big Reveal)!  Here is what is going on.

What:  Flash contest featuring Steampunk or Dieselpunk themes
Hosts:  Ruth, Jenn, & myself.
When:  May 6 – May 12!  We will begin at Midnight Eastern time on the 6th and close up shop at 11:59 pm Pacific time on the 12th.
Hashtag:  #DirtyGoggles
Rules:  You may enter two flash pieces, one for steampunk and one for dieselpunk.  Lenght should be between 500 – 700 words.  Each piece should begin with the following –

Title
Name or Twitter Handle
Category (steam or diesel)
Content label (NSFW, Contains Erotica, Contains Violence, Safe for all, etc.  Mainly, just let us know if your piece has bite or not)

And I’m here to help with some inspiration!

Who likes Pinterest??  Okay…I think everyone does.  We have a group set up full of Steampunk and Dieselpunk images!  Enjoy (just click the image below)!

(Don’t own the image, found on pinterest)
And for you Spotify users!  We have playlists thanks to Jenn, and she did a wonderful job!  
Dirty Goggles – Diesel 

Dirty Goggles – Steam
Enjoy!
I can not wait to read everyone’s entries!

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Mid Week Blues Buster 11

(I took this picture!  So I don’t have to worry about giving anyone but me credit 🙂  But click it anyways and go check out all of the other entries in this weeks Mid Week Blues Buster!)
Dancing Flame
A mean ole bastard…

Gabriella stretched her arms out over her knees watching the dancing flames.  It had been years since she had been home, twenty six, she never thought this day would come.  She had left on bad terms with her father, but then he was not a pleasant person for anyone to be around.  She thought often about the day he caught her with Jacob in the barn.  He nearly beat the boy to death, a local football hero who would never play the game again. He got by with little more than a slap on the wrist after the local police, who he attended church with, learned of his reasons.  It was several weeks later before Gabriella could come up with enough strength of her own to leave her life in Kentucky behind.  An attempt to run away from her nightmares, at eighteen she did not realize they were always there looking back at her in the mirror.
The beating she had gotten because of Jacob was more than she could describe leaving a noticeable scar under her eye but they did not compare to the ones on her back.  It wasn’t the first time he had laid his hands on her.  At fourteen she had come home with a book about Jack the Ripper.  “Blasphemy” he yelled, “there was to be only one book allowed under his roof.”  It was weeks before she returned to school.
                                                      
She watched the flames dancing in the blackness.  She could almost see the figure of a woman one arm outstretched toward the heavens and the other wrapped around her body with a circle of flames at her feet.  She could see her face looking back at her seductively, wanting Gabriella to join her.  She knew who it was calling out to her.  She would never forget those eyes.
Gabriella had just turned nine.  Her mother had been gone almost two years for reasons she still did not understand but had come to suspect her father had murdered her.  She woke to the sound of a woman’s voice.  She still thought to this day it was her Momma trying to warn her, to help her to escape the terrifying life to come.  She thought she felt her warm loving touch on her face but it was only the summer night’s air creeping in through the window.  She sneaked from her bed, through the house but never saw her father.  Outside the house she heard the sounds coming from the garage where her father often repaired vehicles for extra cash.  Slowly she stalked with her bare feet she was only a few steps from the door when she heard his voice, “Cmon.”  Up to the door for a peak, she saw the three women immediately for the moonlight shinning in from the other door.  “You will show me the way,” her father yelled out.  They were bound together, unable to scream with her father circling them much the way she had seen her dog survey a carcass.  “You were delivered to me to show me the way to god.”
Gabriella peered through, her eyes met one of the woman’s and she began to scream even through her covered mouth.  Her father circled back, harshly grabbing her jaw before turning to see what caused a glimmer of hope in the woman’s eyes.  “Mah child,” he laughed.  He would make her watch everything he did that night, a young girl who loved and trusted her father not knowing the evil inside him.
She watched the flames.  Gabriella could no longer fight the tears as they streamed down her face.  She glanced to the bloodied knife in front of her.  She had come home to confront her father.  To right more wrongs than she could ever count.  Most of all she had come home to take revenge on what her father had turned her into. 
At twenty she found herself hitchhiking trying to escape other hard times.  A trucker had stopped to pick her up and tried to take advantage.  She saw what he wanted the moment he opened those doors, stepping inside she knew she was given a purpose in life.
(697 Words)