Annabelle shivers in the cool, dark attic as she sits in one of its four corners by the single square window that provides just enough light to see. The dust floating through the air in the wooden attic tickles her nose. But she refuses to sneeze. And move. She wished for a little warmth. A blanket would be nice. Even a towel would make her happy. Sadly, this is her punishment for not assisting her father and his girlfriend with their "work". Annabelle sighed. Why didn't she just do what they told her? Well, how about it's immoral? Her father wants her to torture other children, some younger then herself, just for his amusement.

But, his girlfriend scares Annabelle the most. She was a teacher at a school not too far from where Annabelle lived. It saddened Annabelle just thinking about school. Oh, how she missed going out to play with her friends at the playground before lunch, get dirty just for fun, learn from who Annabelle thought as the greatest teacher in the world, and just escape. But her father's girlfriend…Annabelle didn't remember her. She liked to play with Annabelle's brown hair like a dolls. Pulling at it with a smile on her face, cutting it down to ear so she looked like a boy than a girl.

"Why did you have to leave, mama?" Annabelle asked the walls surrounding her. A single tear fell from her chocolate brown eyes and onto her knee, which was brought up to her quivering chin in an attempt to stay warm.

Her mother, loving and gentle in every way, left the world too soon. Annabelle was seven when she died. In the hands of her own husband outside in the yard, unknowing and unwavering from their fight. Yet every time Annabelle would look back at the scene, she never understood why he did it. Why did he hit his wife in the head with a shovel? Why more than once even though she was unmoving on the grassy ground outside? Why did he drag Annabelle up to the attic and lock the door?

Annabelle shivered again, her teeth chattering as her body tried to keep warm. She wished she could escape. She wanted to go to another part of the country, far, far away from everything she once knew. The lingering memories of how it used to be before her mother died made her stomach turn and her eyes began to burn with forming tears. Sometimes, when the bad ones came, the one side of her head would pound as if someone were hitting it with their fist. Annabelle tensed when she heard a cry from bellow her. This one sounded older. This confused Annabelle as she listened to the pleas and cries of another victim.

All too soon the pleas and cries stopped, making Annabelle wonder if they killed this one instead of letting whoever it was loose. But, the sound of oncoming footsteps up the wooden attic steps made Annabelle whimper and rethink her current wonder. The door was unlocked and flung open, hitting the wall in the process. Standing in the door way was a tall, skinny woman with blonde hair and a red dress. The dress was formal, as if she were going on a date or going to a party.

"Kat?" Annabelle asked in a small, shaky voice as she continued to shiver in the dark.

The blonde haired woman smiled in mock sweetness. "Yes, little bird. Now get up. It's time for you to meet our latest fascination."

Annabelle winced, but slowly got up on shaky legs. Kat waited for her to come close enough to the exit before grabbing her roughly by her small arm and pulling her down the stairs quickly. Annabelle struggled to keep up, her legs to weak and cold to move so quickly. But she followed, keeping her mouth shut obediently. Once they were down the stairs, Kat pulled her to the right and through another wooden door. The house was dark all throughout except for the room they entered. Inside the room sat her father in a wooden chair with a paper cup in his hand, messy black hair, and a smile on his face just like Kat. There was also a girl. As Annabelle observed her, she came to the conclusion that the girl was no older than thirteen. That was odd. Kat and her father usually only brought in girls ten and bellow. Why bring in a thirteen year old?

Her father watches as the girl sits in the middle of the room, tied up and looking down at the floor with shaky shoulders, with vast amusement. He chuckled when the teen whimpered loudly. Kat let go of Annabelle's arm and walked over to the chuckling man. She stood beside him and looked back over at Annabelle, who was frozen by the door. Kat nodded her head toward the crying teen. Annabelle began to move slowly toward the other girl, her legs moving to their own accord. She felt numb. How could she do this again? Annabelle stood beside the sobbing girl with a blank expression on her face. She learned through all of these "shows" not to show any sort of emotion while doing her part. The girl looked up at Annabelle, her crying ceasing and her face softening.

"H-hello." The teen smiled softly at Annabelle with a kindness the young girl hasn't seen in a long time. It confused her.

Yet Annabelle said nothing. Her hands moved on their own to the teen's red hair. She wrapped her fingers around a few strands, and yanked. The teen whimpered. More strands were removed until a bald spot slowly began to form. Kat then walked over with a pair of rusty scissors. She patted Annabelle on the head before sauntering back to the smiling man in the wooden chair. Annabelle looked into the teens blue eyes, which never left her as she did her job. They widened in fear as the scissors opened and closed with a snip snap. The young girl had to force her hand down to the girls arm. The sharp point scraped across the teen's arm, leaving a long cut behind. The teen bit her bottom lip in an attempt to keep all her cries of agony inside. But her eyes never left Annabelle. And Annabelle's never left her. It felt like hours until Annabelle was told she was done. Blood covered both of her hands. The teen was breathing heavily, her head hanging and her mouth open. Annabelle's father walked over to them and grabbed the teen's shoulders, shoving her down to the floor. Kat grabbed Annabelle by the arm, slowly pulling her along behind her.

"I forgive you." A raspy voice called to Annabelle from behind her. She turned her head and saw her father's foot on the teen's back.

Annabelle cried in the silence of the dark attic. She cried for the teen. She cried for her mother. She cried for herself. Soon her throat became pained. Annabelle curled up on the floor with her knees to her chest. It was all so much. Too much for a girl of only eight to handle. All she wanted was a friend. Someone to take care of her with care instead of hate. Sadly, her hopes of this happening were drowned in a sea of despair. She choked on more tears.

The only thought racing through her mind was the thought of how she could have helped the teen in some way. But how? She didn't know how, just how it hurt. It was an unbearable pain that racked through her whole body. The pain consumed her like darkness consumes a room when the sun goes down. The difference between the pain and the dark was that no sun was going to rise in the morning. It lingers and breaks all it takes over. Annabelle knew how to fight it away, but this time was different. The teen had forgiven her for all she had done to her. That's what broke Annabelle's already fragile heart. She had built a wall around her heart to ensure nothing got to it. But somehow the thirteen year old broke through like a train.

Annabelle picked at loose chips of wood tiredly. Her eyes stilled burned from how much she had cried. There was complete silence below her. Peaceful. That's what scared her. Did they kill the girl? Annabelle shivered. It was still freezing in her attic, and didn't feel like it was going to get warmer any time soon. To distract herself from the cold, she decided to play a game with herself. There was a lone cardboard box in one corner. Annabelle used it frequently to keep herself occupied until she grew tired enough to go to sleep. She slowly crawled over to the box and opened the top. Her small body was able to fit in the box perfectly with no struggle. She giggled happily as she tilted the box from side to side, trying to fall over. If only her mother were there. She and Annabelle would always play together when her father was away or asleep.

She played for a few minutes before her eyes grew heavy and she yawned. Annabelle curled up in the box and just closed her eyes when she heard a low singing. She strained to hear who it was and smiled. It sounded like the wounded teen below her.

Little birdy close your eyes.

The sun has gone down, my sweet.

Now it's time for you to sleep….

Keep moving forward, my dear.

He's not hear to haunt you now

So just lie down

Don't look into the dark

Just sleep, my little birdy

And forget the bad things that linger

And remember me as the singer.

Annabelle's chocolate brown eyes close while the teen sang in a raspy, tired voice. Her breathing slowed and her muscles relaxed as she slept. The teen grew silent once again, most likely going to sleep herself.

Please review and tell me what you think of it so far.

*Boop