PRINCESS OF DARKNESS

PART VII

I don't own the Camdens. Remember, most teenage girls aren't like this, so there's no reason to avoid them like the plague. In this chapter, things change. A lot. There's a teensy-weensy bit of doggie-on-human violence.

Peter took off running before Ruthie even knew what was happening.

She turned around just in time to see a huge, black blur rushing at her.

First, she screamed. It was a long time since she had done that.

Her mind told her not to run. Her brain told her to run for her life.

In seconds, she was running.

Running, running, enticing her enemy.

It barked. She screamed. When it came to fight or flight, she was definitely, most definitely FLIGHT.

Her heart pounded in her ears.

This dog was fast. It was fast, and it was angry. It barked loudly and hoarsely.

She was running down the sidewalk. The dog was gaining on her. She didn't know what to do.

She tried to think clearly, but her instincts were to run screaming. She looked, left and right, up and down, searching—searching for an escape where there were none.

It barked again.

A black bulldog with yellow eyes. Piercing yellow eyes.

She could see her house. It was coming into view. It had been so long since Ruthie had done any kind of aerobic activity, that her chest was burning by the time she neared the Camden's yard.

If she could just make one last huge leap, she would make a narrow escape.

Her narrow escape was thwarted when she tripped over her shoes.

And fell... to the ground.

Semillante leapt on her.

She screamed herself hoarse as the dog tore away at whatever it could. It nearly tore into her neck. Nearly.

It bit into her leg with its razor sharp teeth.

The searing pain knocked the girl unconscious.

Jenna watched from her hiding spot with glee. Ruthie was getting hers.

That's what she gets for putting my father in prison. She thought.

Jenna's joy was cut short, when someone ran over to help. She couldn't figure out who it was. Whoever it was began whaling on poor, poor Semillante, killing it with a frying pan.

Jenna was miffed at the death of her dog. And especially miffed at the saving of little Ruthie Camden.

Everything else became a blur. An ambulance came and carried Ruthie off to the emergency room. Jenna crept away to a safe hideaway, where nobody would find her—or accuse her of anything.

At the hospital, a severely bruised, beaten and bloodied Ruthie Camden lay in a hospital bed, while the Camden family and several other people close to them, sat in the waiting room. Everyone was crushed and saddened by this terrible development.

First, the poor girl found out she was adopted. Then, a neighbor molested her. And now this? Why, God, why? What kind of sick game is this?

Ruthie was fine. Or, I should say, she wasn't dead. Her leg was fractured, just by that one bite by the dog. She had cuts and bruises all over her arms and legs. She had a concussion. She had a sprained wrist from when she tripped. Needless to say, she would probably miss the next couple of days at school.

When the Camden girl woke up, all she could see was white. Of course, this was because she was in the hospital, but it scared her nonetheless. After the first several moments of thinking she was dead, Ruthie realized she was in the hospital. She also realized that most of her body—even her hair—hurt.

Her memory was fuzzy. But she knew a dog attacked her. Not only that, but she knew Jenna was behind it. She thought she'd seen Jenna while she walked down the street, but she thought she was wrong. Oh, she was right. And she knew it.

And for the first time ever, Ruthie Camden was freaked out, so to speak.

Ruthie's attacks had always been psychological. Jenna crossed the threshold to physical. To dangerous. Ruthie knew she should have been dead. That dog was huge, angry, and ravenous. Ruthie was lucky. Jenna tried to kill her.

Ruthie wanted Jenna to die, but she wasn't going to outwardly attempt it. Jenna... Jenna outwardly attempted it. Jenna tried to kill her.

Jenna tried to kill her.

Days later, Ruthie lay in bed, her leg and wrist both in casts. She had bandages over most of her body, including her head. Ruthie was now at home, after spending three nights in the hospital.

Everyone was worried about her. Whereas she had been strangely unaffected by her adoption and the 'molestation', she was now, well, different. Of course, Ruthie was quick to feign acceptance over the whole adoption saga, and the molestation never happened, so she never really showed any emotion over it. However, this was different.

She was freaked out. If Jenna could set a rabid dog on her, what else could she do? Even Ruthie had limits. Boundaries. Jenna, obviously, had none of those.

For all Ruthie knew, Jenna would sneak into her bedroom and attempt to kill her.

Which is why Ruthie now slept with the light on.

Ruthie could barely speak, but when she did, she managed to pin the whole thing on Jenna. Of course, the Camdens believed her. The Livingston's were horrible, evil people. Lesbian-raising, adoption-exposing, child-molesting, rabid-dog-grooming demon folk.

Jenna denied setting the dog on Ruthie, when confronted with the allegations.

She said she never owned a dog. She even went so far as to say that she was allergic.

Some then wondered what the howling sounds coming from her house all those weeks ago were.

Jenna responded by saying it was her mother, going through an exceptionally bad night of missing her now jailed husband.

Most didn't believe her.

Meanwhile, Ruthie's voice box, bruised by the dog, was trying to heal. But it wasn't being helped by the fact that Ruthie woke up in the middle-of-the-night, screaming half the time. The sight of that black blur rushing at her, teeth bared, haunted her dreams.

Jenna had not only gotten to Ruthie. She had beaten Ruthie. The Camden girl didn't dare mess with the Livingston Lass any longer. She avoided her with every ounce of power she had.

When Ruthie returned to school, weeks later, arm in a sling and sitting in a wheelchair, Jenna attempted to wish her well. Of course, the only reason Jenna was doing this was so she could get under Ruthie's skin. Get under Ruthie's skin she did, as the Camden girl wheeled away as fast as she could.

Things were looking up for Jenna Livingston. Ruthie had been defeated. The only thing to fix now was her father's criminal status.

That would be simple enough, if things went they way they were supposed to.

Jenna had an idea.

Ruthie was different now. Vulnerable. Jenna would be able to, with the right prodding, force the girl into dropping all charges against her father and admitting to lying.

Or so she thought.

Jenna confronted Ruthie in the school library.

"Get away from me." Ruthie rasped, a certain type of angry fear developing inside her.

"How's your leg, Ruthie?"

"I said get away from me."

"I'm really sorry about what happened."

Jenna grabbed the back of Ruthie's wheelchair. She began to push the Camden girl around—quite literally.

"How are you doing today, Ruthie?" Jenna asked, knowing Ruthie couldn't protest even if she tried. Her voice was almost completely shot, even a fortnight and a half after the first attack.

Ruthie screamed for help. She tried, at least. It ended up sounding like a whisper.

"Maybe you should..." Jenna whispered, "maybe you should drop the charges against my father. Maybe you should admit that you lied to everyone."

"Why should I?"

"There're a lot more dogs in the pound, Ruthie."

"So you DID do it! I knew it! I knew it! You're sick. You're really sick. I could have been killed, you..." Ruthie coughed. Her rasp was full blown now. She could barely manage any more words.

"You'd better tell the truth about my father, Ruthie. Or else."

And with that, Jenna left Ruthie.