A/N: Originally posted 5/12/2014. This was written for a creative writing assignment I had to do for my English class, so it's not everything I want it to be- but oh well, I'm fairly happy with it. There are some manga spoilers in here, specifically from chapter 52. (There are also some incredibly cheesy lines in here I'm so so sorry).
Neon lights flashed on the gas station sign as a semi-truck pulled into the parking lot. A middle-aged balding man in overalls stepped out of the truck and walked into the building. When he returned, a petite girl with silky blonde hair was leaning against the side of the truck, looking nervous.
"Are you alright, little lady?" he approached her with caution, trying to not alarm her.
The girl looked up, bright blue eyes shining like sapphires, "A-Ah, I'm sorry to ask, sir, but my car broke down," she gestured to a rusty Chevy Impala across the parking lot. "Do you think I could get a ride?"
"Of course! Hop on in!"
She climbed into the passenger's seat and turned to smile at him, "Thank you so much."
"It's not a problem at all. So where're you headed?" he asked while starting the engine.
"To Hell," she whispered as she pulled a switchblade from her pocket and slit the man's throat. His eyes widened as he took his last breath, blood dripping onto his overalls.
The girl sighed and grabbed her phone from her pocket, selecting a number from her contacts and waiting. Finally, a woman picked up on the other end, "Hello?"
"It's done. I'm on my way with the truck," she started the vehicle and drove down the dirt road, hanging up the phone and tossing it into the passenger seat.
Twenty minutes later, the girl pulled into a motel parking lot and a tan-skinned woman with freckles climbed in, "I see you managed to get the most noticeable truck you could find."
"Hey! He seemed like a nice guy who wanted to help me; I just couldn't say no!"
The other woman brushed her coffee-colored hair out of her eyes, "Historia, he was probably just a creep who saw a pretty girl in need of help and offered, expecting something in return later."
The petite girl, Historia, rolled her eyes, "Ymir, you think every man in the world is a creep. I, on the other hand, choose to see the good in people."
"That's why you killed him?" Ymir deadpanned.
Historia averted her eyes, "I…"
"Exactly."
The two drove in silence for quite some time, until Ymir finally spoke up, "Where exactly are we headed?"
"To my father's house, but first I want to stop at a store and grab some supplies."
An hour later they arrived in front of a lavish house that looked to be deserted.
"Great," Ymir muttered sarcastically, "We definitely don't stand out with a semi-truck."
"Shh!" Historia hissed, "We're fine. It doesn't look like anyone's home and there aren't any neighbors for at least half a mile." She reached behind the seat and grabbed the heavy bag of supplies she bought, carrying it to the front porch with her. She set the bag down and reached up to the entry keypad, entering in the five digit code.
The sound of the door clicking open was music to her ears.
"How'd you remember the passcode?" Ymir walked up behind her, grabbing the bags, "I thought you haven't lived here since you were ten?"
"I haven't but the passcode is still the same," she shrugged. "I didn't think he'd change it."
They entered the house and Ymir's mouth fell open. If Ymir had sold all her organs on the black market, the money she would make couldn't pay for everything that was inside the house. A gold chandelier with sparkling diamonds hung over the entrance hall, where an expensive Persian rug lay on the floor. To the right was the dining room where large table and expensive chairs sat before a cabinet of fine china. The sitting room could be seen to the left, where an expansive fireplace and 90" flat screen TV were against the wall, surrounded by immaculate leather seating. A spiral staircase stood in front of Ymir, leading to the second floor, which she guessed was as extravagant as the first floor.
Historia, however, was unfazed by the interior of her father's house, and immediately walked over to the dining table where a piece of paper was laying. She picked it up and read,
"Helen,
I have been summoned to Hawaii for a week for work. If you need anything, please call.
-Lod"
Historia took the paper and ripped it in half, tossing it to the floor. This "Helen" woman was probably another of her father's mistresses, like her own mother, and it struck bitter rage in her. She was not a quick-tempered person, however, she abhorred her father and his affairs.
She stormed back to the entrance hall and grabbed one of the plastic gasoline cans she bought, marching upstairs to start pouring gas along the floor. Ymir took that as the signal to take another one of the cans and begin in a different area of the house, coating the floor in the slippery liquid.
Once the house was covered in gasoline, the two made their way to the entrance hall, trying to avoid slipping on the floor. Ymir drove the truck across the street as Historia lit a match, tossing it into the house.
Historia ran across the street to sit on the hood of the truck with Ymir and watch the house catch fire. She saw her childhood memories ignite in front of her- her own personal Salem witch trial. Her father would return home to find his precious house demolished.
Historia leaned against Ymir, resting her head on her shoulder, and closed her eyes. She listened to the fire crackling and imagined the house screaming as it burned, like her mother had screamed as she took her dying breaths.
"No, please! Please! I'll do anything- don't kill me!" the woman writhed violently, desperately trying to escape her captor.
The man with coarse black hair who held her merely laughed, "Not while you're her mother," he had pointed to Historia, who was being restrained by two other men.
"I'm not, though! I'm not her mother! Please, let me go!" she begged. "I've never even seen the girl before!"
The man glared at the woman before slitting her throat, tired of listening to her screaming.
Historia broke free from the men who were holding her and ran toward her mother, crying. She held her mother's hand as the blood began soaking into her dress and was the only one to hear her mother's parting words: "I wish you had never been born."
Once her mother was completely still, the black-haired man grabbed Historia by the hair, hoisting her into the air. She cried and tried hitting his hands away, but it was useless. He raised the knife to her throat as her father walked up.
"Good sirs, I beg you," he dropped to his knees, "Do not kill my daughter. I won't see her again- you can send her away if you must. But please, don't kill her."
The black-haired man looked as if he was going to kill her anyway, until he lowered his knife. "Fine," he grunted, "but the girl must leave and renounce her name."
The last Historia had seen of her father, it had been the day her mother was killed, 11 years ago. He had kept his word, never seeing her or contacting her again. Yet, he clearly hadn't learned from his mistakes. He had another mistress, who he possibly had another child with. It disgusted Historia that this woman could be dead in a matter of months, her child exiled from his family, and yet, her father still didn't care.
Ymir noticed Historia's clenched jaw and pulled her closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. "It'll be alright," she whispered.
Historia nodded, wiping the freshly-formed tears from her eyes, "I know…"
They sat together on the hood of the semi-truck for some time. When sirens could be heard in the distance, Ymir nudged Historia, "We have to get goin'. I'll drive." Ymir got down off the hood and into the driver's seat. Historia joined her, clambering into the passenger seat and leaning back, sighing in relief.
They drove in the opposite direction of the sirens, Historia's father's scorched house a tiny spec in the distance.
"A new beginning." Historia remembered Ymir saying on the day they met in their army training camp, three years ago.
"A new beginning" Historia whispered as they entered the small town they were staying in for the next few weeks.
Ymir turned to her, a grin spreading across her face, "A new beginning," she nodded.