Anais, Daughter of Destruction (The Beginning)

Started by KetsuekiOokami, June 08, 2012, 11:58:47 PM

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KetsuekiOokami

     Anais stood belligerently in front of her father, his empty beer can clenched in her hand. Her emerald-hued eyes flickered in obvious distaste from his bloodshot eyes down to his sweat-stained shirt, and his holey, dingy blue boxers. He reeked of alcohol and disappointment. "Anais, I...can't shee...wish you in the way. Your whore of a mother wash no glash ladee sho I can't she the TV," her father slurred, his head lolling back on his shoulders. Her lip curled in contempt as she dropped the can. It hit the floor with a jangle, clashing with the loud cheering of the TV audience behind her.
     "Ana...is, I am gunna beat your ash...if you don't move." He sat up a little straighter in his chair, blinking in the dim light.
     "No, Daddy. You'll never hit me again, YOU DRUNK SON OF A BITCH!" She pulled his 9 mm Smith and Wesson from the back of her jeans and stuck the barrel right between his eyes. The sounds of the TV faded as the blood drained from his face, as her hand shook in fear and adrenaline. He seemed to sober up in that moment, nervously clearing his throat. "Anais...Don't do this, baby. Daddy will buy you something. Put the gun away."
     She hated him, felt the swirl of contempt and rage in her gut, threatening to crawl up her throat. "Y-you made Mom leave! You made Mom find someone else, you dick! I want to shoot you so fucking bad that I can taste it. I want to see you die and know that you're burning in Hell."
     Fat tears rolled down her face. She had used to love her Daddy, back when they were still a happy family, before he started drinking and Mom left, before he took his pain out on Anais.
     "How long did you think you could keep hitting me before something happened? How long? HOW LONG!?" She screamed at him, a harsh sob choking her, the gun shaking between his eyes with a metallic click.
     "Oh, God! Don't kill me! I'm so sorry!" His voice turned into a whimper.
     Her tears abruptly dried and her hands steadied. Her gaze, twin brilliant green pools of fire, narrowed on his face. "You're not sorry."
     Her finger curled arond the trigger as he blubbered in fear, tears leaking from his panicked eyes. Blue eyes. She had her mother's green eyes.
     She realized that he had helped make her, even if the thought was repulsive to her. Leaning forward, she slammed the butt of the gun into his temple, watching as he dropped to the ground, unconscious.
      Tossing the gun to his chair, she turned and went back to her room, gathering her meager belongings. Placing her bag by the front door, she went into the kitchen, pulling her black hair up into a slick, high ponytail. She hummed a tune as she opened the door to the oven, tapped her fingers along as she pulled the gas line out. As she left the kitchen, she walked into the living room and smiled at her father, still knocked out.
      "I never said I wasn't going to kill you."
       She kicked him hard in the ribs as she walked over him, pausing by his chair to pull out a book of matches from the small coffee table. With one last look at the home she had despised so much, she picked up her bag and stood in the doorway. She pulled out the book of matches and lit one with a soft smile. Tossing it behind her left shoulder, she walked away, not even looking back when she felt the heat of the flames engulfing her home and her father.
<3,2,1 FADED MOON*^* FADED SOON 1.2.3.>
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BruceTheCat

"Fire on the mountain and, lightning in..." Jacob sang lightly to himself, slumped back in the drivers seat of his Ford pickup. He had been driving for the better part of a day now. The old dirt roads seemed to wind and stretch forever, twisting through the mountains and forests with only a single gas station to add a bit of flavor to his journey.

Where he was going the man wasn't exactly certain yet, only that he had to get up and go. At some point, maybe a week ago, the sound of sirens and flash of red and blue in his rear view mirror had finally faded into simply the dimness of the evening light. Ever since then, ever since that night a week ago, he had just been going and going. Thank god the mid-twenties dark haired boy had the foresight to take out as much cash as he could before doing it. Before finally doing it after all this time.

The thought of those people's faces still lingered fresh in his memories, causing his eye's to dart down at the revolver nestled against a spare change of clothes on his drivers seat. Lips pursed the driver started to whistle the tune now, glancing at the landscape and moonlight ahead of him. "Gold in them hills and it's waiting for me-" the next phrase in the song was cut off in his throat, vision instantly narrowing at a figure standing on the side of the road.

"What's a woman doing all the way out here" he asked with a slight country accent. God knew where the nearest rest stop or gas station was. Where was she going? Jacob's mind considered his position quickly. On one hand, he could stop and pick her up if she even wanted his help. On the other, then it wouldn't but just him alone on the run anymore. The sound of pebbles breaking up against the exterior of his truck echoed inside, faintly accompanied by the crickets outside.

It seemed though that he had made his decision, not realizing that he was pulling over to stop next to the girl until he was almost at a complete stop. 'The gun' his mind practically screamed. Drawing in a deep breath the handsome man reached down to roll down the passenger side window, slipping the revolver underneath his seat as he did. "Need a ride" he inquired with a kind smile, stubbled form many days without shaving obvious in his face.
“Also I've seen that movie, if they're any similar to it, then those guns do not fuck around, please take cover“
- scribus1000

KetsuekiOokami

Anais sang softly to herself as she walked down the long, lonely stretch of an empty highway, her hands tucked deep within her hoodie pockets, her hair whipping in the wind behind her. The soft breeze caressed her cheeks, teasing her clothes with a friendly touch. Her bag, slung over her shoulder, rasped against her shirt with every step she took, sort of a reminder that she was, indeed, still breathing. She paused in her steps, a white hands reaching back to the bag and pulling out a bottle of water. After several long draughts, she continued on her way.

When the truck pulled up alongside her, she didn't jump or scream, just merely stopped to gaze at the handsome man hanging from the window, talking to her. Though he was stubbled and rough-looking, he wasn't bad on the eyes. His truck was a little beat up but he didn't seem much like a serial killer to her.

"Need a ride?"

She eyed him in silence for several minutes, trying to guage his true intentions. There was no one around for miles so help would be hard to come by. Who else could take her to the nearest town and drop her off? Who else would be driving around here.

"Yeah, sure."

She hefted her bag higher up onto her shoulder and walked around the truck, feeling the welcoming weight of the Smith and Wesson tucked in the waist of her jeans, covered and hidden by her hoodie. She tossed the bag in the back of the truck and opened the passenger side, slipping into the seat and shutting the door behind her. Afterall, if he tried anything, she could always kill him.
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