In the corner of a dark room was a girl who stared at her father in a fit of vexation and intoxicated beyond compare slap her mother.

Her mother whimpered, too used to his hits and anger and too tired to fight back.

Her mother looked up to see her daughter staring blankly at her. Nothing could compare to the pain that blank stare brought to the woman.

"Please" she looked up at her assaulter and folded her hands and pleaded "not in front of her…sh-she is just a kid"

Her words angered him more.

The little girl saw her world crumble as she saw her hero, the strongest and bravest person she knew being hurt by the devil she called father.

Her body racked with sobs and her weak body gave out as he kicked her for the last time.

She was gone.

Just like that.

How dare someone have the right to take someone's life?

How can…

Her father had given into his insanity and had taken her mother's life.

As the old saying goes, "like father, like daughter"

She saw red. She saw the kitchen knife. She saw her father bent over the floor vomiting his guts out. She saw…

Power. That's what she felt. It raced like electricity through her veins. It tingled at the edge of her fingertips.

Her head went numb and she could hear nothing.

She saw blood. Gushing out of the wound on her father's back. She saw it mix with her mothers who lay next to the slumped body of her father, staring blankly ahead with glassy eyes.

Instead of remorse or guilt she felt…thankful.

Her hands were covered in blood and two dead bodies stood before her. Her only family was gone, her life crumbled around her.

But, she felt thankful.

Numb with ebbing rage inside her she took the knife and cleaned her fingerprints off it and carefully placed it in her mother's closed fist. Her clothes somehow had not gotten so dirty but she still put them in the washer.

As she stared at the rhythmic turning of the clothes in the machine she blinked away tears.

She felt sad that her mother died. She was the one who protected her from her father and always took the brunt of his anger on himself.

But she didn't feel any remorse for her father. He was an abusive jerk who blamed her mother for all his financial problems. He had come begging tonight. He had lost a bet with a friend and wanted money from my mom and she refused so my father got angry.

But she was thankful to him.

All her life she had craved to feel pure happiness. To feel her heart race and for it to soar above and beyond. By burying the knife in her father's back had given her that feeling.

She could still remember the smooth leather of the knifes handle and how easily it had sunk into her father's back. How she regretted not to hear his cries of pain as he slumps forward on the ground, his blood seeping into the hardwood floor.

She wanted that rush again. She wanted to see the life go out of a person's eyes. To feel her heart soar again.

"Yes" she thought as he saw the boy settle down in his seat as the teacher greets the whole class "You are going to give me that feeling again"


So what do you think?

I really hope you liked this chapter because I felt that the first chapter didn't tell much about the story and I worked really hard on this one.

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