"..... She wants to see you. I can't handle publicity today, or rather for a long time. So she is going to meet you halfway between the XWF, and my current location. We wish to remain hidden, I'm sorry. Be there, 5pm. If she wishes to stay, and you'd allow it.. keep her there. With what is happening.. I don't want her to get hurt in the process of my own miserable vengance... Take care."
I was silent after I hung up with Wannabe. I tapped my finger genlty on the top of my cell phone, looking out to the television. I hadn't moved for the good part of the night from the original position I sat in the last time the camera piced up on random bullshit rushing through my head. I get angry. And things just... fly in and out. And nothing matters anymore. Some people get angry and see red... when I get angry... everything goes a deep shade of black. But if my opponents see red, .... it is only because it is their own blood, clamming up into their heads just before it explodes. I-
(I fell from my chair onto the floor, gasping for air)
A little red-headed child gasped for air as she was held underwater. Two large hands pressed on her tiny body, the bathwater devouring her entire body. Two bright blueish-green eyes poked up from the water, the rpesence finally known as Kitten, as her young past-self, Lillith. The scene was familiar in her flashbacks, much like the ones she used to have.
(I stood straight up, clutching onto a drape for support. The drape collapsed, I, and the entire curtain rod crashing to the ground. I screamed, holding my side.)
Her rib was cracked, She could feell it. She ran as fast as she through through the Iowan corn field. He was insane, her father. He had bashed her face into the windshield, cutting her head wide open. Blood flowed down her fore-head from a large gash from the glass, also from where her hand covered a protruded bone in her ribcage. He had smashed the car deliberatly into a railroad sign, attempting to make his violent outburst look like they were in an accident. He was beating his face against the steering wheel as Kitten took off, hopping from the crumpled GMC Truck. She ran as fast as she could, hoping that just maybe.. salvation would be at the end of the cornfield that went on forever.
(My breath became dramatically labored, unable to breathe. I reached to the top of my head, to the scar where my father threw me through the windshield.... Blood on my hands.)
He was coming for her.. knocking down the tall stalks of corn.. making his way to his tiny daughter he so loved to torture.
(I ran into the kitchen, falling into the wall,I turned screaming.)
The young Lillith fell against a barn building, looking back at the ominous figure of her father. She screamed as loud as she could, although she knew no one would come to her aid in this desolate town outside Cedar Rapids, Iowa. She looked up to her father, crying.
"No, daddy. No daddy, I'm so sorry.. I won't run again.. Dad? Daddy!? NOOOOOO!"
He came slowly in her direction, smiling as he began unzipping his pants.
(I crouched low, never in a long time had anyone seen me so utterly terrified)
The much older looking Kitten, walked into her parent's bedroom to greet her napping sister, Abbie, who lie in the crib. As she aprroached the crib, her eyes widened as she noticed the blood dripping from the "Sweet Angel" pillow she had bought her at birth. Her sister was dead... chopped and severed. This was her punishment.
"Lil-l-l-l----*breath* Kitten, b-baby..."
Kitten turned to see her mother, covered in blood, sobbing as she held her deadly wounds. She was going to die... And it was all Kitten's fault.
Kitten cried, holding the blood-soaked pillow that had belonged to her sister. She looked up suddenly, to see her father standing in the doorway, holding a large knife and smiling.
(I stood up, running accross the kitchen.)
Kitten ran. Her father right at her heels, swinging the blade like a happy hatchetman. But suddenly, as Kitten reached the sunk-in living room of their small house, she lost her footing on the small stairs.
He was on top of her, struggling.. panting.
(I fell to the floor again, slowly. I cried, holding my legs. I cried too hard, the force pushing out blood-red tears of my life-long pain. It lasted for a while, my body spasming with each cry in my dream, the flashbacks that haunted me so.)
He stood up, zipping up his
pants. He smiled at Kitten, pointing his finger at her.
"Now, you little whore. You see what you've done? You killed your family. All because you told a teacher a lie that Daddy hurt you..."
"But (choke, cry) Daddy..."
"SHUT UP, CUNT!"
(I flew across the kitchen, the force from my father's slap almost as real as it was in my past.)
Her mother.. behind her dad in the kitchen. She had dialed the police. She had gathered enough energy for one last trip.. to settle this between her and her husband once and for all.. saving her daughter. But he turned to Kitten, and smiled. He stood and turned, a meat-tenderizer in his hand behind his back.
Her father lunged at her mother, leveling her face into the linoleum floor. Kitten screamed, unable to move, her lower half in so much pain she couldn't move. It all started when she was 5 1/2.... and now she was 16. Her father looked up to her, her mother's brains and blood dripping from the sadistic smile of her father's face.
"You ready to die, PUSSY!?"
Kitten backed up across the floor, edging her way to the living room shelf.
(I backed up across the kitchen
floor, edging my way to the kicken sink.)
"I told you never to tell ANYONE what Daddy does. NEVER!"
He lunged at her, catching her by the hair. Kitten flipped one leg, connecting it with his gut. He lurched forward, almost raplhing all over the living room. Kitten cut loose, and ran back to the shelf, grabbing her father's switchblade.
(I ran to the kitchen sink, grabbing the EXACT switchblade from the counter near the sink, turning to my father's mirage.)
The movements were too quick... they were too fast for anyone to see, let alone for Kitten's memory. She had nothing to lose.. ehr mother was dead.. her sister was dead, and soon she would be dead, too. The knife plunged right through his skull, making the sound of an empty Piñata. His breathing became labored, as he fell to the living room floor, convulsing.
(I screamed, plunging the
knife into the back of Gabriel, just as my dreams began to slip away.)
Gabriel's eyes widened in horror, as she began to slip to the gound. my already terror-stricken body almost collapsed as I grabbed Gabriel, leaving the blade in her back.
"...Mom?.. *gasp gasp* Mom?"
"Oh god.. Oh baby.. NOOO!"
I helped Gabriel lie to the floor, holding her up from the cold linoleum. I clutched Gabriel close to my chest, unable to think of anything.. speak anything.. Oh my god.. my baby, my baby...MY BABY!
Gabriel's little eyes began to well up in tears as I looked at her fragile frame. I picked up my cellphone, dialing 911. It rang, and rang.
"We're sorry. Your call couldn not be completed as dialed. Your wireless reciever could have traveled out of range. Please hang up, and try your call again later.... We're sorry,-"
I threw my phone down in anger. No one wanted to help. Not even the FUCKING PHONE COMPANY would let me get help. I stood, looking all about the warehouse. I grabbed the sides of my head, confused. Oh god, oh god, oh god...!!!!
They were in my head.. all of them laughing. Suddenly, they all appeared... Jem.. Shawn Matters.. the Women's Division.. Cyren.. even Jonathyn.. they were laughing. Pointing. Enjoying themselves. I turned, and to my shock I even saw Black Widow there, standing beside Steve Jason. They were all laughing. My baby girl was dying.. and it was all my fault!! IT WAS ALL MY FAULT!!!
--To Be Continued--