Chapter 1: Death creates Vengeance
As his knees began to go numb from kneeling on the cold, hard pavement, he clutched the girls' body in his tired arms and wept for her death. The rain was cascading down from the night sky as distant traffic could be heard rumbling through the wet roadsides. He managed to gather the strength to lift her up in his arms. He took slow steps down the alley with only dim streetlights to guide him. The setting was cold, like the events that had taken place.
As he walked the streets back to his home, the images of the night filled his mind and his body moved automatically. He knew this route. He was running through it earlier to try and prevent the girls' death, but as fate would have it he wasn't fast enough. He could still feel the heart pounding in his ears and the worn out muscles in his legs begging him to rest.
He neared his home and his eyes could see that no lights were on. He gave the front door a strong push and the latch loosened with ease. He stepped through the door and went straight into the living room where he laid down the orban-haired girl. He went back to the door and closed it firmly, bolting it secure. He made his way into the kitchen to see a written note had been left on the table with a bowl of fruit acting as a paperweight. He picked it up uncaringly and began to read:
Dear William,
I've needed to go away for a few days to do another job for Eric.
I've left money in the table in the hallway, it should be enough for you to take care of yourself for a week or so.
Mother.
He always hated how she was so formal with him.
He went back to the hallway and opened the table draw to reveal a couple hundred pounds, the notes were creaseless from the bank, that's how Eric always paid. He then shut the draw, leaving the money inside. He turned to the cupboard and pulled off his dripping trenchcoat and placed it inside along with his shoes. He then made his way up the stairs to his bedroom where he pulled a towel out from the draw and dried his hair and fur, he then changed his clothing into something dry.
He came back downstairs and walked into the living room, she was still laying there with no indication of movement. Somehow he hoped she had recovered from the injuries she had sustained, and then everything would be alright, like it was in the movies. But this was not a movie, it was very real, in fact he had never felt life to be as real as this moment. The moment he walked through the open doorway to see the girls' body in the same position and her eyes closed, everything suddenly hit him and he broke down into quiet tears as he leaned against the door and slid down. He rested his head in the open palms of his hands and his head became filled with one word:
'Why?' The word began to form into sentences: 'Why was death the answer?' He didn't understand it, or anything during this moment of time.
He got up and wiped the wet fur from under his eyes and walked over to the girl, he then knelt on the floor next to her and gently brushed his hand down the side of her face, it was already turning cold, he muttered words aloud to her;
"I promise I will get them back for this, you have my word."
He carried on softly stroking the side of her face. The grandfather clock that stood towering over him began to chime for midnight. His eyes began to get more tired with every blink until finally he fell asleep.