"Rah, honey what's the matter?" he tentatively asked. He was experienced with probing for information without actually making the person he was getting it from feel invaded or attacked by his gentle questioning. "Uncle Rogan, it says that I am a witch. This cant be true, can it?" she responded referring to the letter now lying on the ground with a nod of her head. Rogan was shocked to hear the uncertainty and even fear in her childish not- quite-a-teenager voice. She was always so confident and sometimes even pompous. He slowly sat down next to her, careful to make his movements obvious to her to make himself seem less threatening. He didn't for a second doubt her trust and love in him. He just felt so awkward around her. He loved her as his niece and as the daughter of his brother, but deep down he knew that he didn't approve. He felt that she was not a normal child, and she wasn't, but the fact seemed to hit him in the face. She was a good kid but she just wasn't real to him, she was more like a robot, a functioning member of society but detached. He blamed his brother for this, and his sister-in-law. Well not so much his brother, Janet had seduced him and polluted his mind with her toxic perfume, she had promised Victor love, and in his opinion she had lied like the dog she was. His brother Victor was bound in the holiness of marriage and duty, so being the noble and honorable man he was he respected that binding not for Janet but for Rah. He hated Janet for all he was worth and not just for the fact that she had gotten him drunk and made him sign the deeds, and all the funds to her name, and made him revoke guardianship of his beloved daughter. Rogan was filled with anger at this old revelation. It must have showed because soon Rah said, "Uncle Rogan is something wrong? Is this bad?" with trembling lips and eyes brimming with tears she looked to him. "Oh dolly, come on now, your old uncle will sort everything out, don't you worry your pretty head about it sweetie." He crooned as he swept her of the ground and into his arms, hugging her in a tight embrace that made Rah feel warm, loved and safe. She didn't know what to do. She knew she couldn't go to her mother, all she got there was cruel mockery. Either that or she was put on show in the 'White Dungeon', her nickname given in fear and hate to the room that was always dauntingly sterile, where she knew that unfriendly faces in white lab-coats looked at her in disgust, making her feel as if she was somehow less, just because they saw her as inhuman, a mere animal at a circus good only for doing cheap tricks. She knew that she couldn't go to her father either, long ago it seemed, when she could remember the time when her daddy would smile at her and toss her on his knee, laughing and singing to her silly songs he made up on the spot, which were always hilarious at the time. She smiled as she reminisced about those happy times. Her face grew hard and her eyes stone cold as she remembered her mother, having heard the laughter, storming into her girlish yellow- wallpapered room with white daises with orange centers all over the walls and bed. Her mother would look at them, father and daughter, in revolution. Then she would walk over to them, slowly, gracefully, taking care to annunciate every movement, and pick Rah up. She would then put her on her bed, gently; fooling the little girl into thinking that nothing was wrong. When she had Rah on the bed she would meticulously begin to fix her clothes, smoothing out all the wrinkles, then she would go over to the dresser, take the brush and lovingly run it through her hair. Then she began to yank, harmlessly at first, making is out so that it seemed that there was a tangle in her black locks, then ruthlessly, pressing down as hard as her womanly frame would allow, pulling and tugging on the small child's head, mercilessly ripping through, ignoring her daughters screams, as Rah tried to run away she would lift her in the air by her tresses and sit her back down, not minding the blood that now flowed freely. While lost in reverie she did not realize that Rogan was looking at her remembering too the pain that that woman, no.he couldn't find vile enough a word to describe her, had caused in his life and the ones of his brother and niece. Looking around him he realized that the sun was slowly beginning to fade, and that it getting chilly as Californian nights seem to do on dreary days. He picked her up and started the short trek back to his house

Hey! How was that? Better I hope. Well hope you enjoyed ill be busy this weekend so hope that I can update what with the superbowl and all. GO PATRIOTS!!! PANTHERS SUX!!!! (