Chapter 1 - "Why is my life like this? Why me?"
I am Artemis Crock. You probably haven't heard of me. I'm seven years old, why would you have? You may, however, have heard of my father. Sports Master. Yes, I am his daughter, but I am not proud of it. He's shown me things other kids my age could never even dream up. I've seen so much hate, crime and blood that I can barley describe my experiences without feeling sick to the stomach. I wish I could lie and say that he doesn't scare me in the slightest. I wish I could say I love him. I wish I could say we're a great family. I just can't. He recently started training me, I hate it. He hurts me and doesn't even help me afterwards, he just leaves me laying on the ground in pain, covered in blood, sweat and shivering on the floor. It would be different if Mom was still here, but she left us. Dad would be nicer, at least I think he would be. He's defiantly more violent than he used to be before she left us. At least my older sister, Jade, is here still. Somehow, she can convince my father to go easier on me. That, or she will make him more focused on her, getting hurt herself. I feel guilty every time she does, though. I don't understand why it's like this! I just want a quiet, peaceful life. Then again, anyone would if you lived with a murder.
Exactly 8:00pm. That was the time as I glanced at the clock, before being forced down to the bloodied, dirt covered ground. Jade was sent out to do a job for Dad, leaving us alone. It's no coincidence he sent her out right before training me. She'd been convincing him to go easy on me for the last week, he clearly didn't like it. I cried. I hate to admit it, but I did. I probably had a few broken bones, he even said so. However, he wasn't going to take me to hospital, how was he going to explain that? 'Oh, she fell onto my fist and broke a few ribs.' Makes sense. I whimpered in pain as he closed in on me, crushing my wrist and trending over me.
"Stop crying. You show your enemy that you're weak!" He yelled at me, grabbing at my hair, pulling up my frail, shaking body. He hit me again. Again. Again. Then he stopped. He gave no reasoning for it and turned away from me, allowing me time to get up and prepare to fight back. I was still crying. My tear streaked cheeks were as red as red as the fresh blood coating the floor. I hated it, every second of the hellish training he was dishing out.
"Go to your room until you stop crying!" He shouted, clearly trying to calm down and not hurt me any more. I couldn't move, though. I was in to much pain to take even a step. I had to leave before he got angry, but I couldn't. All I had strength to do was fall to the floor, panting and coughing. He sighed so loud I could hear him across the room. When he walked towards me, I feared he would kick me, tell me to stand, tell me I was weak, but he didn't. He bent down, grabbed my stained shirt and dragged me towards the door. As soon as he let go I used the handle to prop myself up, and stumbled out the room. I hated it when Jade wasn't there to help, but I couldn't force her to stay, especially if Dad requested she leave.
To my luck, as I hobbled towards the stairs, I heard a fumbling of the door lock and a familiar face walk in. Jade. I ran and hugged her, still weeping. She always made everything better, she would bath me after training, tend to my wounds and just make sure I was OK.
"Jade!" I yelled, probably suffocating her. She quickly noticed my wounds and bent down to my height.
"What happened this time?" She questioned, leading me to the kitchen sink to clean my cuts. To both of our surprise, Dad was sat at the small table, reading the paper like a stereotypical father, probably seeing which of his villain buddies has committed a crime recently.
"Your sister couldn't take a punch," he replied to the question which was not directed at him, "the two of you need to go get cleaned up and to bed. I'm brining you to work tomorrow. I have a job for the pair of you to do." Jade growled, turning away and leaving to the bedroom. She muttered something about, 'he's probably low on goons,' and 'I hate him.'
She took me into the bathroom, ran the bath and began tending to my wounds. She barley said anything other than 'does that hurt?' or 'are you OK?' She clearly wasn't happy with Dad, then again, I wasn't either.
"Jade, does Dad hate us?" I asked. Now that I think about it, It wasn't the best thing to say at the time, but I was seven.
"I don't know," She replied, avoiding eye contact with me, doing up my night-shirt buttons. After tucking me in to bed, I dosed off right away. Maybe it was because I was hurt, or maybe just exhausted from all the training, I couldn't tell.
I woke up to something warm crawling into my bed. At first I thought it was a cat, as it's hair laid across me. Then I realised we don't have a cat. It seemed bright outside, causing me to look at my clock to realise it was only 1:24 am and that the light was a neighbours porch light. I decided to investigate what ever creature was laying in my bed with me. I lightly lifted the duvet so that I wouldn't wake what ever, or who ever it was. It was Artemis. Considering she had done this for the last week, I don't know why I was surprised. However, this time was different. She was shivering, with eyes full of tears. She turned over to face me. At least, I think she did. It was dark, I couldn't see, It would make more sense than her facing her back at me, though.
"Sorry! Did I wake you up?" She whispered, probably trying not to wake anyone up.
"What's wrong? I asked. I already knew the answer.
"I was scared."
Soon we had both fallen asleep, curled up together, trying to stay warm. It was always warm when we were together.
