L.R
By. Grace Alden
Why, why did my life have to turn this way? That's what I thought when my mother died. I thought that my life was over, I wanted to simply not see feel or love any more. I probably would have to if not for the sight of my sister , Mila , her thin form shaking, crumpled on the ground , that's what gave me the courage to get up and help my family. Not that I could help, really, alll I did was make it worse. Father would stare at me with blank eyes, hungrely searching for some thing of mom. His eyes found mine, green just like hers, and wandered up to my hair bright red, mom's most distinguished feature. That's all he cared about, those little pieces of mom: Rashidias wavy hair, kind voice and gentle spirit, Milas delicate frame and facial features And Natalie's well… every thing, even at four she was the spitting image of mom, her hair, eyes , face and even her voice. He would stare at us as if by doing so he could piece mom back together.
To deal with the pain of losing mom he started drinking, he almost always was intoxicated. Having a constantly intoxicated father was for lack of better words terrible, terrible doesn't even begin to describe it. He would wake up every morning and expect every thing to be perfect and if it wasn't he would hit me, reach out that huge hand and hit me, some times I would be nocked backwards by the force of his blow.
This abuse went on and on, usually I was the only one hurt but Rashida who did the cooking got hit when the food was not "just right" Our clothes got consistently smaller and shabier, only Natalie got new clothes, because even in his intoxicated state father couldn't bear to see one so much like mom suffer. I hated my father, we all hated him, and we hated him for hitting us, for not loving us and for still living. If I had enough strength I would have killed him, but I was weak and cowardly, we all knew that we had to escape we just didn't know how.
My answer came on a cold, windy saterday when Mila and I were out bying food; we walked the back alleys so as not to be seen by the rich folk. A young man, seventeen or eighteen came sidling down the street. His face was an expression of calm and power mixed into one, his body moved fluidly and confidently. To my suprize he stopped before us leaning up against the alleyway wall and giving us a small smile.
"What are you two young women doing in this part of town? The young man asked pleasantly.
My head was reeling, why would some one who looked so well off pick a conversation with two ragamuffins like us? Then it ucured to me what if he didn't want to just talk what if he wanted… wanted something else. I shifted in to a protective position in front of Mila.
"You're going to fight me?" the young man smiled perplexedly "what for?"
"I know what you want, but I'll stop you, I will, I swear!" I said my voice trembling
"Wha?… ah … no," he looked quite flustered "nothing like that"
"What do you want then."
" I've been sent by my master to offer you, Elizabeth Raven, a chance for a better life ."
" A better life, for me, but what about my family?
" Well, with the way of life we are offering you, you will eventualy be able to help them."
" And you can't tell me what this way of life is?"
" No, not till you agree to lead it."
" Eventualy I'll be able to help my family…… alright, Im in!"
"Welcome, Elizabeth, to the Black Assassin Corps."
Yo!!!! this is a story of my own making my own character ect! Im typin up the next!!