Prologue
Pain filled me to my core. It was like a fire burning through me from head to toe, never-ending and intent on not leaving a single point of my body unburned. Every part of my body hurt. I wondered how somebody I loved could do this to me. Everyone I knew and loved had let me down in life, but I must admit I thought he was different. He had always been loving and caring, the only person who had made me happy in life and now here he was standing in front of me, his muscular hands bloody from hitting me so hard and his face a distortion of divine beauty and pure hatred. If I had done something wrong I might vaguely understand, but I had done nothing to deserve it. I clutched my chest, trying to hold in whatever sane part of me I had left, but it had already gone. Through the pain, my mind had made an enormous transformation. Before this ordeal, I was weak and willing to anyone I came across, but now I felt that no one was my friend, I could trust no one and I knew this wasn't the end. One word would not leave my mind, and that word was: Revenge.
Chapter 1
I stood there, looking back at this unfamiliar girl. Her hair was tattered and tangled, a bright red mane on top of her head, and her clothes were torn and dirty. The dress that she had been wearing could now only be classed as underwear if anything, as pieces of it had been shred as she had tried to run away. Her face had aged terribly- no longer did she look like the fourteen year old she was but a more troubled girl, who had needed to grow up very suddenly in order to protect herself. Tear marks were trickled down her face and a bright purple bruise was stamped to the side of her head, along with scratches and scathes etched upon her face. Her face was the most shocking and unknown, for it was covered with sadness and distress. She looked terrified, and this was not an emotion that was usually present on her appealing, and usually joyful face.
I couldn't believe this was me.
I guess I'd always taken my life for granted. I had a happy family life. I had both my parents, and they supported me and cared for me like all of the other parents in town, and I always had support and love. My mother and father would do anything for me, and I for them likewise. I would take a bullet for my mother any day, as she was extremely special to me and I looked up to her so much. We would always spend time together, even when doing chores, it did not feel like work as I just enjoyed being with her, and we would sometimes sneak down to the lake afterwards and have a paddle. My father supported us well enough, working hard allowing us to have a small but reasonable amount of money. I also worked, selling flowers and other things in the streets of the village. Okay, we were nowhere near the richest in the village, and our jobs were on tenterhooks, but we coped and we weren't starving like some families were- like my friends.
I had many friends, being the outgoing and kind person that I was. I was a very caring person and always willing to help others. Most days, I would give the earnings I made from that day to my friends to help them and their families have a meal that night.
I was so shocked when I came home that day. Usual routine was that I would come home from playing outside with friends by the lake, and find my mother baking by the stove and welcoming me in. Then my father would come in soon after, his wages tucked away in his pocket, showering us in hugs and kisses before sitting down and describing his day to us. But today was different.
As I approached the house, I knew something was wrong. I looked up at our small house, noting its usual characteristics compared with how it looked now. Our house was like the others on our street: tiny and ugly. They were terraced, and all looked exactly the same. There was no identity when you lived in the streets of poverty. All houses had the same old wooden door, the same thin square windows, and the same cracked grey pavement out front. But it wasn't new material that made the houses look occupied, but the families in them. Most houses had at least 6-12 people in them, all one family with many children, but all my brother and sisters had died- with poverty comes illness. It had hurt to see them all go one by one, wondering when I was going to go. One of my sisters whom I was closest to was the last to die of my brothers and sisters, and it was a great struggle to watch her life drain, knowing there was nothing I could do to help her. Thankfully, the illness passed and I along with my mother, father and friends had survived, though there was not one day that I didn't miss my brothers and sisters.
So our house was the one that always looked empty, the windows clear of children looking out and invented toys perched along the windowsill. Today, however, it looked emptier. So empty, in fact, that it looked abandoned and unoccupied. The door was off its hinges, slanted down over the doorway so you could see in through the gaps. Several windows had been smashed through; leaving what looked like jagged teeth in many of the small squares which were gathered in a criss-cross pattern to make up the full square window. It seemed what was to be our dinner was smeared across the front windows of the kitchen, as if thrown there.
I walked cautiously up to the house, afraid it may have been thieves. But who on earth would steal from our house? There was nothing to steal! And who would it be? All of the people who lived on our street were practically family. We all cared dearly for each other as friends were needed in these times of poverty. Anyway, why would they come in our house to throw food around? No, I don't think this was thieves.
I continued to walk, reaching the door and going to swing it open. As I did so the whole door collapsed off the hinges and narrowly missed crushing my foot. Gasping, I fell back onto the pavement behind me, grazing my elbows as I brought them behind me to protect myself. Sighing in annoyance, I tottered back to my feet and walked through to inside the house. My eyes widened. It was even worse in here.
My mother had always kept our house spotless. The furniture was grubby and old, yet was always in order and laid out accordingly. Along with this, the tables and space were always clean and tidy, and the floor was always clear so that you could see the old wooden floorboards that sat underneath the furniture. When you walked in, you could see the small but liveable living area; a couple of chairs lined up; a small and worn handmade rug on the floor; a few cupboards pushed against the walls on the opposite side of the room; a stove; and a centrepiece which was the dining table. The dining table was our main focus, as it was where the family could congregate and interact of an evening.
As I walked in now, the smell of burnt filled my nostrils, and venturing further in I saw where it came from. The rug my mother and I had once created together was now a pile of tatters on the floor, smoke trailing out of it in a whisper, along with big black burns scalded along its pattern. I looked at it, feeling rather sad. This rug had felt rather special to me, having made it with my mother. Whoever did this obviously didn't care about what this rug meant.
Looking further around, I saw the state of the room. A few chairs were broken to pieces; the parts scattered over the floor. The table was on its side, and also had brutal burn marks scorched into it. Along with these obvious changes, observing the room showed more signs of violence; a few sections of wood on the floor had dents in them, and other items that should be standing up were either laying down, or slanting over in defeat. I shook my head in disbelief, as I also saw the range with its pot of gruel sitting on it, the contents spilling over it and onto the floor. But it appeared it did not only go this far, as looking further around, the gruel was spread all over the room, splashed out carelessly.
Looking around in disgust, it suddenly hit me that this was my house. My home. Destroyed. I looked around as the sadness filled me. What were we going to do now? Where could we live? It wasn't safe to live in a house that had no door and lock; it was too dangerous around here. Recently, there had been numerous murders in the area, and I thought it must be the homeless; starving and needy, they would kill whoever they needed to get to warmth and aliment. Panic rose in my chest as I suddenly noticed the absence of my parents, and saw the darkness falling outside. Darkness outside signalled the most dangerous time of the day, and I was now alone in a derelict house with no protection.
I started to back up, heading towards the stairs when suddenly I heard a crash behind me. Of course! I had forgotten the back room; I rarely went in it as it was always so cold, so I had preceded to have near enough erased it from my mind. But it was etched back into my mind as the crash clattered and echoed around the cold stone walls of the house.
"...Mother? Father?" I called out tentatively, as I tiptoed forwards towards the room, one hand cautiously opening the door to peep around into the room.
"Victoria? What are you doing here?" I heard the vicious anger in my mother's voice, which unnerved me. I had heard that anger often recently, but it had never been directed at me. It was always my father, as they had been having many an argument recently when they thought I wasn't listening.
"I...I always return at this time, Mother." I replied, careful not to tread on any toes.
I entered the room, and gazed around, concluding to myself that this room was as bad, if not worse, as the last one. All of the furniture looked as if it had been picked up and thrown back down carelessly. There was no more order or conformity to the room. It simply looked like a disarray of different materials and shapes mashed together. My mother stood in the centre, and at first she looked her normal self, but as I moved closer the scratches seemed to grow and surface on her skin, the bruises seeping across making enormous purple stains, and the red marks appearing brighter. She was also covered in the food, and her clothes were ripped in so many places you could see her skin through it, which was entirely improper and, in all honesty, quite embarrassing to me. I just hoped nobody outside saw her.
I looked up and into her eyes which were full of anger, and they looked as black as hell. I recoiled slightly at the sight, frightened and trying not to believe this was my mother standing before me.
"Don't you lie to your Mother, girl!" I jumped at the sound of my father's booming voice, which seemed to come from the very inside of the walls and foundations of the house, echoing around the room and lingering there. The words repeated themselves in my head, and I cringed. I wasn't going to lie; my father was scary. I immediately saw him in the corner of the room, drowning in the furniture piled around him. It was disrespectful to answer back, so I was going to stand and wait for something else to be said, but my mother soon interjected.
"You should have known not to come back! The house is a complete disarray and I need time to clean! All you are going to do is get in the way- as usual." That comment stung. I swallowed, trying to choke back tears that threatened to pour out from the shock of my mother's words. I thought she liked spending time with me. I couldn't understand why my parents had suddenly turned on me like this. I had done nothing wrong, and it appeared that they had had an enormous row. The wreck of the house was them. I found it hard to picture what on earth could have led them to making such an enormous destruction of the house. So if it was their fault, how could they be blaming me?
"...I-" I couldn't get my words out. My father bellowed a laugh.
"Yes, that's right Elizabeth! Victoria our interfering daughter, always getting in the way and nosing around. That must be why she came home- to see what had happened here and go and whisper it to all of her friends down by the river!" I double-took in shock; nosing around? I had never done that! What was going on, why were they acting like this? I couldn't understand the sudden switch. Was it not just yesterday that we had sat at the old dining table chattering?
My mother shrilled a horrible laugh back. But had they not just been arguing? The complexity of this situation jumbled around in my head as I tried to make sense of it.
"And now," my mother screeched, "Now you think you can waltz in and poke your nose around?" I started to back away. I had seen that look in her eye before; the one that foreshadowed violence, and which was usually seen before she lashed out at my father. As I looked across at my father now, he was on her side this time, his fists clenching, cracking his knuckles. They were ganging up on me. My heart beat at double its usual speed as I realised my predicament. I was not sure what they were going to do to me but I knew it wasn't good. But if I ran away, where on earth would I go? It was now completely dark out, and there were murderers out there. If I stayed, however, I could just as easily be killed by my own psychotic parents.
The puzzle in my head started to piece itself together in the few seconds I had been backing away. My mother and father had been arguing, that was obvious, and whenever they argued it was about money. Therefore, I concluded in my head that my father must have lost out on money or lost his job, resulting in this war scene; both annoyed at the loss, but finding no other way to deal with the pain and upset other than lashing out at each other. And now, they seemed to be venting their frustrations on me. Either way, it still meant bad news.
After three steps backwards, my father noticed.
"Do not even dare run away girl!" he roared. It all seemed to happen in slow motion. One moment, I stood there facing the room and my mother and father, and the next I had bolted for the door, reaching out for the handle desperately to open it and run away. But my parents were quick; my mother jumped forwards in a flash, grabbing my dress from the back and pulling me towards her as I heard the material rip under the strength. My father had found his way quickly over as my mother continued to pull at my clothes, and he hit me harshly on my head. The strength of it had me crashing into the wall, my head crushing against it as I screamed out in pain.
Suddenly, with strength I did not know I had, I grabbed the lower part of my mother's arm and forced it down and away from my dress, and scampered for the door as fast as I could. I made it. Reaching the door and wrenching it open, I started to run up the stairs; I knew the streets was too risky without any form of luggage or supplies. They had soon caught up, and my father made a grab for my dress again, his fingers pinching the edge as I continued to sprint up the stairs in twos, causing another humongous rip to scar itself along the dress.
I reached my bedroom door, and wasting no more time I slammed it shut as I ran inside; immediately starting to pile up anything I could find against the door. My heart was still beating so loud and fast I was worried it might rip itself out. I heard my parents approach.
"Let us in!"
"You can't hide in there forever!"
"We will get you, girl, mark my words!"
The jeers and threats continued as I stood and pushed everything against the door in an attempt to prevent them from entering. The bangs and bashes started, and I could feel the strength of them, the bang vibrating through me making it even more threatening and foreboding.
They never got in. Luckily. I stayed in that same position for what seemed like hours, and finally the bashes died away as I heard them mutter to themselves and head to their bedroom. Now was my chance. I glanced around at my now empty room; everything was piled against the door. I began to hurriedly gather the things I would need into a bag, and took a final look in my mirror.
I touched my face where the tears had trickled down, not having realised I had been crying as I packed. I shook my head in disbelief at how my evening had turned around. How my life had turned around. I inhaled and exhaled once deeply, trying to clear my head and calm myself down, but the tears would not stop coming. It turned into a constant flow gushing out of my eyes as I stared at my reflection as it watched me. My loving mother and father: where had they gone? It was as if they had left and a new evil version had taken their place. They had completely different personalities from the ones I had left this morning. It was funny how the importance or the longing for money could affect someone so much.
I snorted in disgust at myself at that thought. Funny? How was this in any way funny? My life had just been turned upside down, and I thought things like that? I shook my head, and glanced around one last time with sadness. The memories washed over me; the time I sat in here with my little sister as I taught her how to stitch; the times my mother and I read books together; the time my father bought me this mirror and called me 'his beautiful little princess'. The memory of this rose anger in my chest. Was all of that lies, then? Had they been lying about what they thought about me the whole time? I thought about how they had called me 'interfering' and 'nosey'. Maybe that is all they had really thought about me. No beautiful princess, no wonderful daughter; just an annoying little girl.
That hurt. My eyes stung as tears threatened to return, but I simply picked up my bag, and sprinted out of my door and away from the house before my parents could catch me. I had decided to ask my friend, Kate, for help. I had always helped her, so I hoped she would not mind to return the favour. I started to head in the direction of her house and stopped a few houses away from my own. I looked back in sadness and guilt. What if my mother regretted all of this the next day? Just had a funny turn? She would be heartbroken to find me missing. What if running away was a silly idea? But could I risk that? I had two minds skirting around in my brain; one of defiance and protection repeating 'no' to the last question, and the one that felt love and kindness whispering 'yes' pleadingly at me.
But my legs continued to carry me towards Kate house, walking past the hordes of rats gathering along the pavement and the many people scattered around along the street; their home.
I tried to walk quickly; you spend any more than ten minutes in the slums and you have a disease. I reached Kate's house and knocked on the door, praying for an answer. Luckily, it was her who answered, dressed in her nightgown and grasping a candle in a holder.
"Victoria? What is it?" She looked me over, her eyes scrutinizing and trying to suppose what had happened. I wiped my face in an attempt to tidy myself up and looked back at her, my eyes pleading.
"Please, Kate. It will just be for one night. I simply can't go back there and I have nowhere else to go" I begged.
"I...uh..." She glanced around, unsure, which troubled me- I thought we were friends.
"Do you not want to help me?" I asked, the hurt filling my voice "You know I would help you." Her eyes narrowed at me.
"Well I do not ask for your help, Victoria. You just splash it out and expect everyone to appreciate it and give it back in return. Goodnight." She slammed the door in my face.
This day couldn't possibly get any worse. I closed my eyes, the tears that had started to form dripping down forcefully as my eyelids closed on them, and tried to pretend it was just a dream. But it wasn't. I could still feel my feet firmly glued to the ground, and the biting night air whipping at my face. I shook my head and stepped back. Where was I supposed to go?
I couldn't stay here, I just couldn't. I began to run. I didn't know where, I didn't care where. I just knew it had to be away from this horrible place. Kate's words swam through my head on repeat 'You just splash it out and expect everyone to appreciate it and give it back in return.' But I thought helping others was a good thing? I had always made it my priority to help others. I had gone out of my way to help Kate so many times, and this was what I got in return- a slap in the face? Anger rose in my chest and I ran harder to vent it out. Fine, if nobody appreciated help, then they wouldn't get help!
I looked around, realising I had reached the end of the town, but it did not deter me. But suddenly, a figure stepped out 10 metres in front of me and I stopped in panic. What now? If I ran, they would chase, if I carried on, they would get me. But the person didn't give me time to react, as they stepped towards me.
"Don't worry, I won't hurt you" spoke a deep, low voice. I continued to flit my eyes around nervously as he approached and he touched me gently on each arm. I flinched slightly and he spoke again.
"Please. I promise I won't hurt you. Are you lost?" His voice was so deep yet so relaxing. The monotone almost formed some sort of harmonic, deep note. My shoulders fell down, releasing the tension as I started to feel safer. Though I still could not see the man, his voice alone calmed me.
"I need help" I admitted, struggling to keep back the tears once again.
"Well I'm here now" he soothed, "Here, come with me, you'll be safe." I knew this was dangerous, but there was something so entrancing about this man that I simply had to follow. He took my hand and started walking me back into the town and towards a shop front. I could see him more now, as before we had been shielded from the moonlight by the buildings but now we were fully exposed to the light. He was beautiful. The man had short, dark hair, and his skin looked so soft in the moonlight. He looked at me through big, brown eyes and his lips were full and inviting as he spoke. I blinked, trying to get myself back down to earth and listened to his words.
"Here, let's go inside and we'll get you something warm to drink, hm? Then you can start from the beginning and tell me how you got here." He pulled his soft lips into a smile and it was all I could do not to faint. I smiled what I hoped was an attractive smile back and followed as he stepped inside the door directly next to the shop, and straight up some steps that led to the main rooms above the shop. It was a small space, yet perfectly comfortable for somebody to live in. The man lit some candles, putting them around the chair he led me to sit on. He then approached the stove in an attempt to make a hot drink for us both.
"So," he said, "Have you got a name?" He smiled. I smiled slightly back.
"Victoria," I replied, "and your name is...?"
"Robert." He nodded. I watched him as he poured us both a warm drink and handed one to me as he sat down, reclining into the sofa. "Right, start from the beginning beautiful. We've got all night" he grinned. I felt my cheeks flush red and I quickly sipped from my drink to hide my face.
"I had to...run away." He tilted his head at me and I shook my head. "Basically all of the people I thought loved me have ruined my life today" I frowned. He put an arm around me.
"You are not alone here," he said, "I'm here for you, and you can stay here as long as you want, okay? At least you're not homeless now anyway." He smiled at me again and I struggled to keep back the urge to pull him to me and hold and kiss him.
"I greatly appreciate that, really I do. Thank you so much." I looked at him for a moment. "Why are you doing this for me?"
He gazed into my eyes for a moment before replying, "I just wanted to help." My hopes for an answer of it being because he thought I was pretty evaporated, and stomach dropped in disappointment. True, I didn't know this man in the slightest, but there was something about him that was so enticing. "And..." he began.
"And what?" I said a little too quickly and hopefully. He stopped and gazed at me again, and seemed to change his direction of subject in his head as he swallowed the last of his drink. "And I think it's time for us to catch some sleep. Early rises and all" He smiled. Definite change of subject.
I nodded "Sure."
The next morning came around too fast. I felt like my head had only just hit the pillow, and I was just getting up again. I stretched as I stood up from the bed Robert had insisted I slept in, still in my clothes from last night. I looked down at Robert lying on the floor and smiled at his kindness of giving up his bed for me. I wondered how old he was, he looked at least twenty and it suddenly hit me how entirely improper of me this was; if anyone in the town found out about this I would be immediately shunned. But I didn't care. Not anymore.
Robert stirred and woke up as I stepped over him and walked to the main room.
"Morning" I smiled. He grinned back and stood up.
"You're up bright and early."
"The light always wakes me up," I shrugged. He walked over to me and gave me an unexpected hug.
"How are you feeling now?"
I hugged him back before sitting back again; worried I would give away how much I liked him, and knowing he did not feel the same way back. I sighed.
"The same as yesterday really. I am just struggling to understand why they would lash out at me like that." Last night as we lay in bed, I had resulted in telling Robert everything that had happened. Something about him had me washing all my problems out, and feeling comfort from his replies.
"I am sure it's not personal to you, just ignore them now they are obviously not worth it, Vic." I tried not to grin widely at the nickname. He had given me a nickname! That must mean he liked me, right? I nodded back at him.
"Who needs parents anyway?" I grinned. He laughed and nudged me, knocking our shoulders together making me jolt at the touch.
"Exactly."
"So what are we going to do today?" I asked.
"Well, I think you need time to relax and forget your worries, so I thought we could go for a walk?"
"Sounds perfect" I agreed.
We talked animatedly as we walked through the forest, our feet brushing the leaves on the floor, and the scents of the trees and plants gliding beautifully to our noses and filling them with wonderful scents.
I felt so comfortable with Robert, and I felt like I could talk with him for hours on end and never get bored. I just hoped he felt the same as I stared at him talking, knowing he couldn't possibly. I was just a child to him.
"What?" he smiled as he saw me staring at him. I looked away quickly.
"Nothing" I said unconvincingly as he looked at me suspiciously. He dropped it though, and led us to a clearing where we sat down in the hard, dry grass. I noticed him gazing at me, and looked down, pulling out pieces of grass. He chuckled and put his hand on mine which was pulling frantically at the grass.
"Calm it, Vic" he grinned. I looked up into his stunning brown eyes, caught in the moment and feeling completely drawn into him. I don't think he realised the effect he had on me. He had my heart pumping faster as I felt his warm touch on my hand, it starting to jolt as he ran his thumb soothingly over my hand. I think he realised, as he quickly shrunk away, pulling his hand back and looking back into the trees. I was right, he only saw me as a child. Someone he could never be with. I was about five years younger, though he didn't know that. I obviously either looked young, or wasn't good enough for him. I sighed.
"Look...Robert, I can be out of your hair by tomorrow if you want. I really don't want to cause hassle..." I started, but he was shaking his head.
"You are not going anywhere Vic, honestly it's fine. I thought I explained last night, you can live with me permanently if you want."
Now it was my turn to shake my head. "I know but, I can't help feeling I am interfering. Please Robert. What can I do to make up for it and repay you?"
He grinned, "You are so kind, Vic. But I honestly want nothing." He shrugged and then smiled "Your company is enough."
I smiled at that, but still made up my mind in my head that I would pay him back for his hospitality. It had always been in my nature to give and not take.
"We should head back" he said. I nodded and blushed as he held out his hand to help me up. I had to stop doing that.
"Thank you" I muttered as I stood up and we started to traipse back to his house, the air turning more brisk and chilly as night drew in. I began to walk us quicker, frightened at being in the middle of the woods after dusk. Murderers and goodness knows what else could be out here. As we reached the edge of the woods, I had a creeping feeling trickle up my spine, feeling as if we were not alone. I glanced around quickly, hearing a rustle in a tree as my heart drummed inside of me and I walked quicker. Robert had heard it too. He grabbed my hand and started to nearly jog, as I followed. We rushed to his house, continuing to glance behind us and we burst inside, panting. I let out a relieved laugh, and he followed suit, smirking with adrenaline yet worry for what we had heard.
I didn't want to stay up late that night; instead, I lay in bed and thought over the past few days. I wasn't going to lie, I still hurt. I thought about my parents all the time, trying to focus on the happy ones rather than the deranged, furious ones. Every time I thought about a particularly joyful or special time, the words 'interfering' and 'we'll get you, mark my words' creeped in, brushing away the good memories like they were dust and simply layering themselves in its place. It played on my mind like a broken record.
Then there was Kate. She didn't want to help me. My best friend, or so I'd thought, had refused to help me. I still couldn't believe or understand it. How many times had I given her my wages, or gone with her somewhere when she needed support? Countless times. And I got this in return. I felt like my life so far had been a waste. My friend had been a fake. She had obviously just used me. I didn't know what the meaning of love meant anymore. It obviously didn't exist if this was what happened. Why me? Why did the terrible things have to happen to me when all I ever did was try to help people, empathise with them or just be a shoulder to cry on? Just be a friend. Words could not describe how I felt right now. Anger, pain, and upset were just a few to name the worst. The feelings swirled over me as I stared up at the ceiling, and I slapped my hand to my ear as I felt something. But it was just a tear. One of many to come.