. . .

This was it.

This was her last chance. Her only chance. It was now or never. Tucking back her rusty, red, bangs behind one ear, Malon licked her lips, nervously, focusing on the weapon in her hand and the man that lay in her father's bed. Pfft. Man. He didn't deserve such a status. She gulped, her knuckles whitening from the strong grip she had on the hilt of her knife. He deserved this…right?

Her eyes scanned the thing in front of her, a bitter, bile, taste, soaked her mouth as she looked at his repulsive face. She hated his mouth the most. A chill would drench her body down to her core from the way those lips tightened over his yellowed teeth in a detestable smile. Those lips…that mouth…like a ghoul…

She blinked, inhaling hard, while her fist shook as she began to lower her knife.

The hit came too fast for her to even react to. She was on her back, too stunned to really feel the pain of Ingo's blow. Everything was going too fast for her to grasp. She felt a hand grab her roughly by the collar of her shirt, and begin to shake her.

"What the hell do ya think you're doin' girl?"

Eyes shut, she winced, feeling his hot saliva and putrid breath lash at her face; his breath reeked of hard liquor and tobacco. He slapped her again; her voice sounding foreign to her ears as she cried out. This time she felt the sting of the slap.

"Did ya think you could do it girl, did ya really think you could get me like that so easy?"

'Stop! Please!' But the words didn't come out. They couldn't. He began pitching countless of punches and slaps at her face and all she could do was hiss and scream a voiceless plea for mercy. She felt like a lifeless piece of flesh being beaten raw by a chef gone wild with his trusty mallet, and then…it stopped. She shrank back, preparing for another hit but it never came. She opened her eyes to see Ingo slump over and collapse, obviously piss drunk and too tired to carry on.

She couldn't move, she couldn't think, she couldn't feel…until the realization finally hit her. What the hell was she thinking? Did she really think she could get away? Did she really think she could end it?

Did she really think she could kill Ingo?

Getting up slowly from where she lay, she flinched; her face finally feeling the pain after her adrenaline had died down, her fingers running gingerly over the new and throbbing bruises.

Stupid. Moron. Idiot.

She stumbled her way towards the door, barely getting past Ingo's jumbled limbs that lay sprawled out freely across the floor. She crashed through the door, falling to her knees before getting up.

And then, she ran.

She couldn't quite see where she was going exactly, she didn't care. All she knew right at the moment, right at that second, she needed to run. She needed out and she needed it now.

Her skin, flesh and bones began sending overdue pain signals to her brain and she could only wince, gasp and cry out from the pain. It was dark out, everything pitch black 'cept for the light of the moon that was too bright, it blinded her.

She didn't care.

She didn't want to see where or what was next.

Her lungs began to burn and she had to swallow back the metallic taste of blood that begged to crawl up her throat and bathe her parched mouth. Her calves felt worn out like rubber stretched out too far and her ankles and knees felt like nothing but soggy joints. She felt like her body was going to give out any second now when she felt herself rush right into another solid body.

"Oof!"

She cried out from the fall and again her voice felt foreign to her ears. She felt like a rag doll or a puppet, stripped of its strings as she laid, pathetically and helplessly overtop the stranger that was somewhat holding her.

"A-are..are you okay? Hello?"

Her face was smothered in the stranger's now soaking chest. She couldn't answer, her throat feeling tight, her lips letting out nothing but choked sobs. She was shaking now, her body, not hers to control.

"Miss? Miss?" A soft voice cooed as an attempt to calm her. "Miss, please…what happened?"

Her cries began to slow and she looked up, dizzy, eyes barely focusing on the pale face hidden beneath a white shroud, all but for his eyes.

Her eyes met blue…and then she saw black.

. . .