Disclaimer: Harry POTTER, character, names and related indicia are trademarks of and © Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc. Harry Potter Publishing Rights © JKR. I do not make any $$$ from the publishing of this story to any website.
Warning: The following story contains themes not suitable for a younger audience. It will retain a M+ rating as it contains triggers regarding violence and sexual situations. While I will not go into detail for some scenes, leaving them to happen in the background, this nonetheless warrants an Mature Rating. Please be responsible in reading this.
-A Dark Beginning-
23 June, 1991
On a dreary mid-summer morning, the Sun struggled to break through the bleak, overcast sky. To brighten the early hours. It was as if the world had taken on a despondent expression with the intention of throwing a tantrum as the unseasonably chilly weather swept across the British Isles. The thick sound of heavy footsteps, muffled through wood and carpet, had awoken a young girl from her uneasy sleep. Her fleeing dreamland had been disturbed by a morose and commanding voice through the thin door.
"Get up girl. I expect my morning meal to be on the table at seven sharp. You have twenty minutes, and I expect a full breakfast this morning, with the morning paper." A brief snap of wood against metal, and the cover over the small grate in the door was closed as quickly as it had been opened. The faint click of the knob unlocking was the only indication to the drowsy girl that she was being given permission to leave the tight quarters. She tried her best to stop a yawn from escaping her dry lips as she reached above her head and pulled on the thin metallic chain that dangled a few inches above the bed. The room became awash in the aged glow of incandescent light, leaving the girl temporarily blinded. She squinted hard against the light, her hand fumbling against the shelf offset against the wall for a pair of broken black spectacles. The tape that held the bridge of the frame was worn, and would soon need to be replaced. When she finally put them on, her eyesight only improved slightly.
The young girl reached down beside the broken mattress and fished a tatty pair of trousers from the dusty floorboards. She noticed the stitching was coming apart in the left rear pocket and she knew that it needed to be fixed shortly, before either of her guardians discovered it. The trousers had formerly belonged to the young girl's larger cousin and when he could no longer fit the band over his expanded posterior or thighs, they were given to the bespectacled girl to wear. Most of the young girl's clothes had been like this since before she could remember, and it was up to her to keep them in the best condition she could, even when the clothing was covered in various stains or riddled with holes. She had been taught from an early age that it is not wise to ask for anything from her uncle or aunt. More often than not, her uncle had responded in hostility. Would she risk trying to palm a needle and thread from her aunt's needle-point basket while her aunt's back would be turned? Her previous attempt had been disastrous as she had been caught. Luckily, her punishment had been nothing more than sent to bed without dinner, while the rest of the family enjoyed a hearty Sunday roast.
The girl dressed promptly and moved out from the small, dusty room and into a clean hallway. It had previously been used as a cupboard beneath the stairs, until her uncle had managed to force a small mattress that had previously been Dudley's into the limited space. The girl could feel the warm, plush carpet against her feet through the holes in her thin socks. Across the small hallway, from the door of her diminutive room, hung a collection of family photographs against the wall. In many of the pictures, the young girl's aunt had sat in a chair with her husband standing behind her, his had rested upon her shoulder, while their son's own position had changed through the years. Something was missing from each photograph though, as the young girl was never featured in a photograph with the rest of the family. As she had grown up, she learned it was best that she not question the decisions made by Vernon Dursley.
The young girl tried to take a deep breath to clear her dry lungs only for it to result in a coarse cough and a tightness in the girl's chest. After she regained her composure, the girl calmly made her way down the hallway and into the small kitchenette, towards the pantry and ice box. Her uncle expected a full breakfast, which always meant fried black bacon, two fried eggs with runny yolk, fried tomatoes and mushrooms, two pieces of friend bread that was freshly cut from the loaf baked the day prior, baked beans, and a couple patties of black pudding. This as always, was to be served with a hot cup of freshly brewed black coffee, two cubes of sugar and a splash of cream, along with that morning's copy of The Daily Post.
She managed to set the hot plate of collectively fried food down at the table beside a mug of fresh coffee and the rolled up paper, a little wet from the early morning weather, with a a few quick seconds to spare. Her uncle had just finished his morning washing, and the young girl's nose was filled with a pungent smell of old leather. As her uncle lowered himself into the wooden chair at the dining room table, his wide girth caused the tops of the legs to slowly bow outwards. He cast a disdainful glance down at his breakfast before giving the small girl a disapproving look, grumbling about the time it took to make his breakfast. Shortly thereafter, the pair were joined by the girl's aunt, a tall, thin woman with a near constant frown and pinched face. As the woman sat down at the table opposite of her husband, she waited impatient for her own breakfast to be served.
"Vernon, we must discuss what our plans are for today. Dudley-kinds will be up momentarily and I do so want this to be his best birthday yet. Not everyday does a young man turn thirteen, is it?" Petunia stated between taking a few small sips of the warm tea that had been placed in front of her.. She glanced side-ways at the young girl standing before the hot cooker. "You spoke to Mrs. Figg about the girl yesterday, right? Will she be able to watch the girl this afternoon?" Petunia returned her attention back to her husband in front of her as the young girl set a plate down before her on the table. It was her usual breakfast, consisting of two lightly salted egg whites, two slices of toasted wheat bread with half of a grapefruit, and a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice.
As Vernon Dursley swallowed a mouthful of bacon and friend egg, the telephone in the hallway began to ring. A shrill piercing noise filled the quiet foyer of the house. The young girl tensed at the sharp sound, reminded that her uncle feels it is considerably rude to receive a morning call any time before nine in the morning. Especially on days when he had no meetings to attend to at the office. With difficulty, the hefty man moved from the table, the sound of his knees popping beneath him as he stood from the wooden chair. The small girl imagined that the chair itself offered an audible sigh of relief as the excess weight was removed. She of course would never mention this out loud, not because it was rude, but because her relatives did not take kindly to imagined funniness.
Vernon made his way from the small dining room and into the hallway connecting to the foyer, where the phone sat on a table against the wall. He grabbed the receiver from the cradle, ready to give whomever was calling a piece of his mind and demanded to know who it was that felt the need to call him so early in the morning. The small girl strained her ears to hear as much of the one-sided conversation as she could while she started to wash the frying pan within the sink. The scalding water tickled her arms before giving away to discomfort and pain, leaving her with an incredibly itchy feeling. She scrubbed at the frying pan as hard as she could, trying to ignore the need to scratch her arms as they turned red. A few short moments later, Vernon returned to the joined dining room and kitchenette, his mood visibly soured as he sat back down and started shoveling the remains of his breakfast into his mouth.
"That was Mrs. Figg," Vernon snapped, his irritability aimed specifically at the small girl in the kitchenette. "She isn't going to be able to watch the girl today. Something about a fall and hurting her leg. If it wasn't for those bloody damn mongrels she calls cats, I swear! What I have said before, Petunia? It's unnatural to have so many animals under foot. Pets, she calls them. What a joke. Well, something isn't right about that if you ask me. Now what are we going to do for Dudley's big day? We can't very well let it be ruined because of the girl," Vernon practically spit the word out, as if there was a foul taste in his mouth from just mentioning the small child only a few feet away. "Perhaps we can just leave her here, make sure to lock the pantry and ice chest of course."
"Vernon, we cannot just leave the girl here unattended to! What will the neighbors say? Imagine, if they see us leave in your auto without the girl, they'll know we just left her here by herself. You know just how much they like to gossip, no, they may think we are less than responsible people. If Mrs. Figg is unable to watch the girl, then we have no choice but to bring her along with us. I can only hope this won't ruin poor Dudley-kins' special day." Petunia seemed to be ready to have a fit, as she wiped away some imaginary tear from her left cheek. She gave a sidelong glare at the young girl, who felt the need to shrink away. As if it was her fault that her relatives would be forced to allow her to partake in the festivities.
She watched her aunt scoop the remains of her egg whites onto the last bit of toasted bread and start to nibble at the edge, the young girl thought her aunt resembled a large rodent. This brought the barest of a smile to the corner of her mouth, but she was quick to hide it as she reached for the dirtied flatware and crockery from the table. She thought that might manage to snag a quick scrap of the remaining food from her uncles plate before either of her relatives would notice, but was quick to dismiss the silly notion as she scooped the remains into the trash bin.
Clearing his throat and giving the small girl a authoritative glare, Vernon addressed the issue at hand. "Since we have no other option, girl, we will have to bring you along on with us. This isn't my first choice but your aunt is right as always. We cannot have the neighbors gossiping that we are anything but perfectly normal people. That being said, you will not be heard from unless spoken to by your aunt or I. Once you have finished making Dudley's breakfast and washed the dishes, I expect you to run a bloody comb through that ruddy unnatural mess of hair. I also expect you to put on a pair of clean trousers. I will not stand to have the neighbors think I do not at least provide for you while you live under my roof, is that understood? It isn't enough that we gave you a place to live, and kept you out of the bloody system after your drunk of a father got himself and your aunt's sister killed in an auto accident, but to be expected to clothe and feed you too? You should consider yourself very lucky, if it wasn't for us, you could have ended up dead in a ditch somewhere," the cumbersome man finished his remaining coffee to emphasize his point. The mug itself looked abnormally small compared to Vernon's sizable hand, but the young girl was smart enough not to make such a rude comment out lout. Instead, she carried the empty mug from the dining room table into the small kitchenette and set it down into the scalding water in the basin of the steel sink, ready to be washed.
With a a meek, quiet and slightly mousy voice, the girl acknowledges her uncle. "Yes, Uncle Vernon. I will not be heard from unless spoken to. I will also make sure to comb my hair and put on clean trousers when I am finished with my chores." She cast a downward look at the still scalding water, her arms now nearly a bright red beneath the suds. A small part of her relished the feeling against her skin, and was tempted to dunk her arms further beneath the surface. It was the discomfort and itchiness of her arms that kept her from doing so, and if not for the small pieces of food floating around in the water, she might be tempted to shove her face in for just a quick second. Instead, she continued to scrub at her uncle's plate and mug before she rinsed them and set them to dry on the rack. She moved from the freshly washed dishes back to the ice chest and pantry to collect the ingredients for her cousin's birthday breakfast, nearly the same as her uncle's except with an extra portion of each.
As the small girl began to prepare another full breakfast, this time for her cousin, she looked over at the mound of wrapped parcels that were sitting atop the buffet against the wall. Many were done up in bright blue or red paper, with a bow sitting on top of each parcel in the opposing color. The whole mound was quite garish to look at, in the girl's opinion. She wondered if it was purposely wrapped like that to draw her cousin's attention away from the number of gifts that were actually in the pile. A part of her wondered, like every year, just how it would feel to be allowed to open just one of those gifts. She had just finished the last fried bits of Dudley's breakfast when she heard the stomping footsteps moving and down a couple of the stairs out in the hallway. She knew that her cousin only did this because of the amount of wood dust that fell from the boards above the small girl's bedding inside the little cupboard under the stairs. She thought it was likely the only exercise that her cousin would get each day, but as usual, she kept that remark to herself.
"Wake up Potter! Time to wake up, Potter! It's my Birthday, Get up, pipsqueak!" The stout boy continued down the stairs before making his way to the shared kitchenette and dining room, only to be surprised that the small girl was already awake. She set down his plate full of fried food at the table along with another glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, while Dudley took his seat between his parents and looked at the mound of wrapped gifts. "How many are there?" Dudley practically barked at his parents, his tone less questioning and more that of a tantrum.
"Thirty-Six, I counted them myself. Even made sure to count them twice for you, Dudley." Vernon was quick to answer, his pride swelling as he had managed to buy so many gifts for his son. Dudley was the only one on the block to receive so much for his birthday, or any holiday for that matter, and Vernon would be sure to point it out the next time the neighbors would come over for a spot of tea.
"Thirty-Six? Thirty-Six?! Thirty-Six, but last year, last year I had thirty-seven!" Dudley began to raise his voice, a tantrum was beginning to build over having received less gift this year than he had the previous year. He was quick to take a deep breath before he began to hold it, his fists clenched at his side. The small girl in the kitchenette watched from her place at the steel sink and counted the seconds Dudley would continue to hold his breath. Perhaps this time, he would pass out from the lack of oxygen? Like many other thoughts, she kept had kept this to herself as her Aunt Petunia moved from her own seat to reach her arm across the boy's wide shoulders.
"Well yes, yes that is less than you received last year, isn't it? Well, a couple of your gifts this year are quite larger than they were last year, and they cost quite a bit more too," Petunia tried to soothe her son, giving him a pat on the shoulder and a consoling hug in an effort to convince him to end his tantrum. "How about this, Dudley-kins? While we are out, your Father and I will stop and we will buy you four more presents, of your choice. How does that sound? Then, you will have forty gifts this year, instead of thirty-six," Petunia was quick to try and please her son's tantrum, as his face had began to subtlety change to a shade of lilac. He began to visibly calm down from his temper tantrum as the idea of being able to pick out additional gifts settled in his head. "Now, how about you eat your breakfast before it becomes chill and then you can open your gifts Dudley-kins. Afterwards, we will have a pleasant afternoon, as your father and I have something planned for your special day. You father even suggested we might take a ride in the auto in the auto over to Chessington World of Adventures? They have a new attraction to see, and wouldn't you like to be the first of your classmates to see it?" Petunia smoothed out the hair atop of her son's head, giving into rocking him a little in the chair in an effort to further calm in down.
Vernon harrumphed as he set the morning paper down in front of him. He had just skimmed an article, claiming there had been increased sightings of owls in the area. It was unnatural and nothing but rubbish to the irritated man. The notion of a nocturnal bird, flying during the day was ridiculous and Vernon would have nothing to do with the foolishness. The man's religious upbringing taught him to view such foolishness as blasphemous against his lord and savior. Instead, he turned his attention to his son, a feeling of pride swelling once more in him as he watched his son hold out for more gifts for his birthday. Of course, it was to be expected that he should have more gifts then the previous year, as he was another year older and had started to grow into his teenage years.
It had not taken very long for Dudley Dursley to finish shoveling the fried food into his mouth, as he was very excited about what he could possibly have gotten for his birthday this year. He moved around the table towards the buffet, and pulled the top most box off the pile before he began to give it a shake. After a couple of moments, he ripped into the brightly colored wrapping paper and tossed it to the floor at his feet. He tore into the brown cardboard boxing and pulled out his first gift of many, a remote controlled airplane. It was considered to be the top of the line at the beginning of the year, and many toy companies had found difficulty in providing a better product at a cheaper price. None of that mattered to Dudley though, as he set the box and toy on the table before he grabbed the second gift from the pile. He continued through each of his gifts, shaking the box before he ripped the bright paper wrapped around the cardboard box and tossing it to the floor. He would then tear into the cardboard box and look over his gift. Some were met with joyful looks of approval while others were treated with disdain and disapproval. Those would be the gifts he would find reason to break or otherwise ruin first and foremost. He had received many new toys, including a new television set, a brand new home computer, sixteen new computer games, a gold wristwatch, a video recorder, a cine-camera, a remote controlled toy crane, and a brand new racing bike. Out of all of his gifts, the cine-camera was the one Dudley was looking forward to the most, and he cast a sidelong glance back at his female cousin.
The young girl, standing in the kitchenette and watching all of this, thought the last gift was peculiar, as Dudley was considered stocky in polite company, and felt contempt for just about anything that might make him swear. That is, if it didn't include punching someone smaller than himself. Once more, the small girl kept her own opinion hidden away behind a passive expression as she continued to scrub at the frying pan in the cooling water. Her arms were still considerably red, but she no longer felt the need to itch at her skin as the water had cooled enough to not cause as much discomfort. Thankfully, the frying pan was the last of the dishes to be washed, and she could move onto the next of her endless list of chores.
After Dudley's gifts had been collected and put away into his second bedroom, beside the brand new cine-camera, and the wrapping paper cleaned up- it was time for their afternoon outing. As she was expected to be presentable in public, the girl managed to find a pair of trousers stuffed under the mattress in the small cupboard under the stairs that were not as worn through in the posterior or in the knees. She also managed to find an old flannel that could be considered clean if one didn't put their nose directly to the shirt and sniffed, buried beneath the mattress. She had to roll the sleeves up a few centimeters for her hands to poke through, but other than it being too big on her, it was still in relatively okay condition. The small girl combed her fingers through her hair the best she could, wincing as she tried to pull at the knots and tangles. This did little to improve the mess atop of her head that ran just pass her shoulders, as her black hair continued to curl and stick out in random directions.
She remembered a time when she was younger, her aunt had grown tired of her unruly hair. Petunia had taken a pair of her sharpened sewing scissors, and with the small girl sitting in a chair in the backyard, went about shortening the girl's hair unevenly. The next morning, her hair had grown back as if it has never faced a pair of scissors before. The only good that came of this was that her relatives had given up on her hair, which never seemed to grow any longer than it was anyways. The worst that came of it was her uncle's thin leather belts.
While everyone began to file outside of the small suburban house and towards the auto, Vernon kept the girl to the side for a moment while we waved pleasantly to the gentleman next door. His round hand looked like a Christmas ham, waving about in the air, though the young girl was smart enough to keep this thought to herself. It would do her no good to aggravate her Uncle Vernon any further, lest he turn violent. "I am warning you now, girl. Any funny business, any at all, and you will not walk for a week. Have I made myself clear?" Vernon looked down at the girl with a quick and disdainful glare before he smiled and clapped the girl on the shoulder purely for show in front of the neighbors. With a forced smile and a polite nod, the girl climbed into the back seat of the auto and closed the door behind her. She knew what her uncle meant, by any funny business. She was meant to be on her best behavior, and not do anything that might attract anyone's attention to herself. She also knew not to take his threats lightly, and would rather go without meals for a week in place of what he would do to her instead. A shiver crawled up her spine and her skin felt cold against the clothing she wore. She promised herself that she wouldn't do anything to attract attention. This was Dudley's special day after all and she didn't want to ruin it.
Just before Vernon got into the driver seat of his auto, he noticed a brown owl sitting atop of the gutter of his roof. He quickly looked over at his neighbor, who was busy trimming his side of the privet bushes that ran between the two houses. The man didn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary, and continued to trim at the bush with a pair of shiny shears. Vernon could not tolerate how the man could blatantly ignore the sight of an owl, as it was very unnatural for an owl to perch itself along the aluminum gutter that ran along the front ledge of the house in broad daylight. It was a sign of wickedness. With a resounding harrumph and silent prayer, Vernon climbed into the small automobile, oblivious to the contemptuous complaints offered by the vehicle as he fastened himself in.
After a somewhat pleasant, quiet and boring drive to Chessington from Little Whinging, the Dursley's and girl, arrived at the Chessington World of Adventure. The popular theme park and resort had much to offer, and although there was to much to see in just a single afternoon, they were interested only in a few brand new exhibits and rides that the park featured. After a couple hours of meandering through the park, they took a small detour through a section of the Zoo, particularly the wild life exhibits. As they passed by a Gorilla enclosure, the small girl was reminded of her cousin and his friends. It wasn't a pleasant thought and she quickly tried to usher it out of her head before it lead to others. The rest of the afternoon was spent with rides and attractions, with the small girl always in the back and never allowed on a ride herself.
Shortly after enjoying a few rides and the occasional fried snack food offered at several vendors, the Dursley's and the small girl that followed behind them happened across a few of Dudley's schoolmates. It took little to convince Vernon and Petunia to allow Dudley the opportunity to go off with his friends, and they even offered to let the little girl tag along. Looking at the opportunity of having a while to themselves, and not have to watch the small girl being an additional benefit, they allowed Dudley and his friends to go off for a while on their own. They agreed that they would meet at a nearby cafe in the Adventure Park before heading home. Of course, the small girl had no room to say anything for herself, and after a look of contempt from her uncle and aunt, she followed behind Dudley and his group of friends while she focused on the tatty trainers she wore.
It hadn't been long before the group of thirteen and twelve year old boys stopped, and for the first time since they left Vernon and Petunia, did the girl realize that they were in an area that they probably shouldn't be. There was no one else around and a few of the vendor shops had been boarded up or taped off. The small girl finally stopped looking around her before looking at her cousin, only to have a large fist shoved right into her face with a resounding pop filling her ears. Pain shot through her nose and behind her eyes. The taste of metal filled her mouth as she fell to her posterior on the damp cement. With her ears ringing and her eyes filling with tears, she looked up at her cousin and realized all to late that he wanted to play his favorite game. The small girl was surrounded by Dudley and his friends as they all started taking turns throwing a fist into her face or against the back of her head, with the occasional foot replacing a fist and landing elsewhere on her body. She did her best to cower into a ball, as she learned from a young age that it would allow her to stop them from hitting her in the face, but that did little as two of the bigger boys lifted her up and grabbed at her arms, pulling them outwards at a painful angle.
The small girl tried her best not to let them see her cry, and kept her mouth shut tight no matter how many times they hit her. It wasn't until she felt the large flannel shirt ripped off and over her head that she let out a cry of alarm. Before her was her cousin, his brand new cine-camera in hand and his friend surrounding her as her arms were being pulled back, her upper body completely bare and exposed. One of the boys was grabbing at the waist of her trousers, roughly yanking them down her hips. She knew what was next. This had become Dudley's favorite game since the previous summer, and now he could tape it for him and his friends to enjoy more than once. She could feel the panic rising in her chest, and her heart felt like it was about to burst. The pain in her head grew tremendous and all she wanted to do was shut the entire world out. She wanted to escape from this horrible game but the poor defenseless girl knew the older boys wouldn't let her.
Feeling a surge of emotion well up In her naked chest, the small girl thought her chest might explode outwards, covering her cousin in the red crimson pulp of blood and organ from within her. Instead, an invisible wave of energy pushed out from her and the boys surrounding the small girl were thrown back several feet. A few landed on their own posteriors, confused and dazed, while a couple had landed against the wall of a vendor or small games stand. The worse had been her cousin, who had been thrown back several feet further, with nothing behind him to immediately stop him. He landed hard within a disgustingly filthy pond of stale and tepid water. Dudley was completely soaked through to his briefs and his brand new camera was submerged in water, part of the case cracked and the lens smashed to pieces. The small girl was stunned but quick to recover. She grabbed at the flannel shirt from the cement and pulled up the loose trousers as she fled as fast as her small legs would allow her to. She pulled on the large flannel shirt to cover her naked torso as she blindly ran, her eyes filled with forming tears, her spectacles sporting a new crack running through both lenses.
It didn't take long for a patrolling security officer to discover the group of boys, dazed, confused but for the most part unhurt. Even though they had in-fact trespassed, none of them would answer the questions of what happened and had to be escorted to a security booth for detainment until the parents or guardians could be contacted. Of course, Dudley was wrapped up in a wool blanket to fight off the chill of being soaked to the bone and as soon as his parents arrived, Petunia was having a fit regarding his treatment. Vernon responded by throwing his own fit at the poor guard, growing more and more hostile with each passing second. It almost escaped the attention of the adults that the small girl was not with the group of boys. When Vernon Dursley did notice, it only added to his aggravation further. With vague and empty hostile threats combined with vulgar words, the Dursley's led their son away from the security booth, towards the exit of Chessington World of Adventure. Vernon discovered the small girl huddled into a near ball, resting on the balls of her feet with her back pressed against the a rear tire of the auto. She would be punished, there was no doubt about that.
When the Dursley's had arrived home, Petunia was quick to move out of the automobile with Dudley beside her, wrapped tightly in a wool blanket as he continued to shiver and sob over his broken birthday gift. Questioned on the ride home what had happened, all Dudley would do was push the blame all on the little girl. It was completely her fault that this had happened to him, and she had broken his brand new cine-camera with her freakishness. This only infuriated Vernon Dursley more, as the girl had blasphemed once more. The bulbous man was next, as he roughly pulled the small girl from out of the back seat and into the house, his hand clasped tightly around the back of the small girl's neck, his thumb pushing down hard against the nerve beside her collar bone. After the door was firmly shut, he gave the girl a forceful toss into the hallway. The small girl's head made a sickening crack as it collided with the bottom wooden banister post of the stairs, before Vernon lifted her up from the floor by a fistful of her hair..
"This is your fault, girl! I do not know how you did it, but I know you blasphemed! I told you that I wanted no funny business, that today was your cousin's special day but you had to ruin it. Just like you ruin everything you touch. Just like your parents. It's your fault your drunk of a father killed himself and that whore of his. It was because they couldn't bear to raise such a wicked spawn of hell. Now look what happened!? You ruined your cousin's birthday with your freakishness! Did you think it was funny? Your cousin could have been hurt because of your Blasphemy and sins!" Vernon bellowed into the face of the girl, spittle flying with the end of each question and accusation. The girl could barely understand a word that was being directed and shouted at her. Her head felt fuzzy and there was a constant rushing sound in her ears. Her eyesight was growing darker, dimmer and the back of her head felt wet. She could feel herself being dragged down the hallway and through the small kitchenette to the back sliding glass door. As soon as she felt the fresh air on her face, panic once more filled her and the dark feelings of dread welled up inside of her small body. Her uncle was not to be taken lightly, especially when he was enraged. The small girl felt the heels of her trainers scrape over the cement patio as her uncle dragged her by the fistful of her hair into the grass of the garden. "I warned you, girl! What did I say? No funny business, or you wouldn't walk for a week. You thought I wasn't being serious? Did you think I was joking? Did you think I wouldn't make you repent for your sins?" Vernon hissed into her ear as she was roughly tossed into the pitch dark garden shed. The sound of a click and the small shed was flooded with light, blinding the small girl for a few short seconds.
The frightened small girl didn't need to see to know what was around her. How many times had her uncle brought her to this tool shed in the back lawn? How many times had he punished her? Taken his anger and frustration out on her? Made her repent for her blasphemous ways and her atrocious sins against heaven's creator? She tried to not let herself think about it, tried not to let those memories drown her in misery. She tried to escape to a place inside of her, where nothing around her would matter, where nothing could hurt her. The small girl desperately wanted to be anywhere but there, wanted to be anybody but her. She knew that wish wouldn't come true when her uncle back-handed her across her right cheek and she landed on the dirty cot in the corner of the shed..
A/N: Well then.. I knew this chapter ended in a dark place.. but trust me, it will set a much needed tone for the story to go forward. There will be a few themes that will come up, and a few moments in the story where this chapter was needed for the reader to understand the feelings of the protagonist and surrounding characters. If you notice some familiarity to a previous story, it is because this is a re-write of that story with some drastic changes that I hope you will like. I had to trim a few parts from the source material and embellish a couple others, but all in all, I am pleased with the result. Next chapter should be up in a week or so. Look forward to hearing what you think.
A/N 2: In need of a dedicated Beta.
