Just as promised, here's the beginning of the new beginning. Enjoy, my friends.

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"No...no...mommy, daddy, no!" The small, dark haired girl cried, from her hiding spot under the stairs. Her dark brown eyes were wider than they'd ever been before, and several tears flowed from them in their erratic, peculiar ways, finally dripping down her chin and coming to rest on the hard wood floor. They were tears of horror, tears of confusion, tears of sadness.

From where she knelt, she couldn't see much of anything, and yet she somehow knew what was happening. This bad, bad man had come for her parents. She didn't know much of them, and what she did know came from the bits and pieces of conversations she had overheard between her mother and father. She was only nine, yet very bright, and she had managed to come up with some idea of why this person was hurting her parents.

His name was Bruce, and "he wasn't quite right in the head", as her parents had said. He knew were she was hiding, but he wasn't quite ready for her yet...

Her father backed up into her path of vision, followed by Bruce's burly form.

"You killed my mother.." he said slowly, advancing on her father.

"I..didn't. I only helped remove her body! You're father...he killed her..."

Bruce's eyes blazed, and he opened his mouth in fury and disbelief. "You dare lie to me!?"

"Please, I-"

"Murderer!

Bruce produced a knife from his pocket and held it up in a threatening fashion. "So, Krystoff, does this situation seem familiar to you?"

There was a block of silence which was soon broken by the little girl's mother's uncontrollable sobbing.

"Shut up...Rebecca....."

From somewhere beyond the girl's range of sight came her mother's terrified voice. "How do you...know my..na-"

Her words were interrupted by struggling shouts from Bruce and Krystoff. Both men were on the ground, but Bruce was on top, holding the knife above him, his eyes ablaze and a devilish smile playing upon his lips.

"You never answered me..does this or does this not remind you or when you killed me mother!?"

Her father's lips trembled with each word he fought to speak. "I..didn't..kill your mother! Your fath-"

Krystoff's last words were turned to a sickening groan as the knife was plunged deep into his chest. Blood quickly soaked his shirt, and Rebecca's wails grew louder.

The little girl held her hands up, prepared to cover her eyes and on the floor, for she was trembling so violently that she was unable to keep standing.

"Now you join your husband...and my mother..Rebecca,darling.."

The girl pressed her hands tightly against her face as her mother's sobs diminished into the air.

"Yes, little girl, I know you're there...but you shall not face your death..oh, no...you're going to live just like I do. I have nothing, and now you shall see the depth of my suffering..."

Six years later, the cool, night air whipped through her hair. Branches scratched at her arms and legs. She had to get away. Away.

In her hurry she tripped, and a rough, callused hand gripped her arm and kept her from falling completely. But as soon as she was caught, she was thrust back toward the ground. It was only then that she was aware of her torn shirt-evidence of the last time he had caught her, only minutes earlier. But she had escaped then. Now, it didn't look so good.

Whimpering, she struggled backwards across the ground and stopped, wincing, as a knife blade was brought down on her, cutting between her breasts and down towards her lower stomach in an ark.

Looking up in horror, into her rapist's face as her began to undo his pants, she had a horrifying realization.

"You...you murdered my parents!" she screamed, clutching her abdomen.

"That's right.."the man replied, chuckling. "Old Brucey's back for more."

She closed her eyes, preparing for the worst, and suddenly, she could no longer sense Bruce's presence so near to her. When she opened them, the bright light of a lantern shone in her eyes, and the kind voice of an older woman pierced the silence.

"My husband and I heard your screams and called for help...that man has been a fugitive for six years, and he won't hurt you anymore..."

She was dazed and confused, but could tell that someone was helping her up. From a little further away, too far for it to be the voice of someone helping her to her feet but close enough to be consoling, came the same woman's voice.

"My name is Rosie. You shouldn't have been in that house alone, period, but now more than ever. I'll take care of you, don't worry..."

Ciarianna Katrina Ralione sat up in bed, breathing hard and clutching her stomach area where she had received that scar three years earlier. Rosie walked in, a concerned look on her face.

"I heard your screams, hon. You okay?"

"Yes.." Ciarianna muttered sleepily. "Just that dream..."