Dusting my hands, I straighten from my crouching position.

I take a small step backwards and place my hands on my hips admiring my skilled piece of work currently tied to a tree in front of me.

The blue on the back of "its" neck has disappeared now and he'll never guess exactly what I did to him, unless he guesses that I froze the nerve in the side of his neck-which in turn caused him to pass out- because that would just be weird and abnormal.

I heard a small groan and quickly dashed behind the tree. When nothing happens, I look around the base of the trunk to see if he woke up. Good news- he's not awake yet. Bad news- the groan most likely signals he should be returning to consciousness any second now.

Facing back forward, I take out my broom from the pocket of my blazer and hold it in my palm and chant "Veneficas domus est caelum."

I watch as my broom grows bigger and then let go when it hovers a few centimeters from my palm.

I double back and check to make sure the pervert is still out, I take the small twitching of his eyes as my cue to get lost. refocusing all my attention on my broom, I stand next to the side and grip the base with my left hand and lightly jump up, swinging my leg over the stick Adjusting my position slightly, I heave out a small sigh before taking an agonizing glance at the poor guy tied to a tree behind me.

'Damn, I am just too fucking nice for my own good.'

I glide over to him and quietly take the knife concealed under my skirt out then toss it a few feet away from his unconscious body.

'I just know I'm going to regret this at one point in my life'

Off we go to Jraq, country of the witches, and whatever the fuck my father is.

Either dirty shit or male slut.

Whatever- same thing.

I feel like a complete idiot at the moment.

I mean, who the hell, -well other than me- would sit in front of the border of Jraq, their long awaited destination, and fucking whine and pout mumbling about how "she doesn't want to go inside because her failure of a father could be very close"?

Insane people- that's who.

Oh well. I guess I gotta just suck it up.

Taking a deep breath, I take my time standing up and then stare at the broad meadow before me. I let a small rare smile break out on my face and think about how grandpa used to talk to me about the meadows in Jraq, he would get this sad look in his eyes as he was most likely thinking of mom.

A sudden vision flashes before my eyes, hot and terrifying.

The fire.

Grandpa.

The rouge demons.

Death.

Death.

Death.

Stumbling through the old burning house, I made my way toward the kitchen.

"He would have been cooking dinner." I kept thinking.

But he was too old to escape in this type of a situation, he couldn't move with the same agility he did while training me.

What if I didn't get there in time?

What if he—no! I would get there in time.

I ignored the embers leaping all around me and the flames licking my skin hungrily, I had to get there in time. The door loomed with an odd darkness in front of my eyes, the same peach colored door that I would open to the sound of old tunes and grandpa in that ridiculous apron, now looked like the gate to hell. It was leering at me, the sounds of popping embers reminded me of mock laughter.

It pisses me off to no extreme.

There was a loud crack as I jump forward and kick the door in.

Raising my head, my eyes immediately widen.

A quick downward strike from the rouge standing above him brought me to my knees.

Tear after tear.

Scream after scream.

Then every inch of my hair turning white.

The swift movement of my hand to my knives, encasing them in ice, and then springing forward and plunging them into the neck of the rouge.

I give no last words or prayers to those who desecrate a pure soul.

Especially family.

I didn't remove the daggers from his neck, nor did I get off of him once he hit the floor. I just let go of the daggers and reached behind me, pulling the 22 revolver out from the waistband of my shorts. Cocking and shooting without blinking.

Bullet after bullet.

Trigger pull after trigger pull.

I went through sixty bullets, seven guns, and eleven knives. Then I stood with trembling legs on either side of his sternum. Holding my hand out, I let myself be taken almost fully by my ice. Freezing him from toe to top.

My last task.

Fashioning a hammer from ice, I screamed and then slammed it down on him, shattering him into tiny flakes of crystals, then watches in triumph as they melted into the hot flames.

The creaking of the house brought me out of my stupor and I ran and then slid on my knees to grandpa, making a shield of sorts to protect us from the crumbling of our house. My only home.

When it was over I shattered the ice and just let the ashes and snowflakes mix.

Keeping my eyes closed tight I tilted my head back and just let the remains of my old life wash over me, silent tears streaming down my face.

I'm sorry grandpa.

I didn't make it in time.

Taking in a shaky breath I squeeze my eyes shut before opening them once more, this time with a new determination burning.

I will go in.

I will find my father.

And I will take my revenge on the clan of rouges who ravaged my home.

I promise I will get there in time.

So that no one has to feel what I am.

One step forward.

No turning back now.

Time to find my father and let out some pent up aggression.