DP's FANFIC!!!

**WARNING: THIS STORY CONTAINS INAPPROPRIATE LANGUAGE AND MATURE GORY THEMES**

"Stop. Stop... STOP!" I yelped, collapsing to the corner of the wall, clinging onto the sides helplessly. I was panting, out of breath, staring up in horror at my dad.

"What did you just say to me?" he shouted in my face, spit flying everywhere. "I said... stop." I hissed back through clenched teeth. It was time for me to fight back. After all the years of abuse and pain- I couldn't take it anymore.

"Oh, you want me to *stop?* Just like I wanted Courtney to stop dyingin the hospital 2 years ago? It's all your damn fault. Why couldn't you die instead of her? Why..." His breath was shaky for a moment, staring at the ground as memories flooded back to him. He slowly turned back to me, his eyes filling with pure rage. I closed my eyes painfully, wishing I had died too... So I wouldn't have to face this every day. Face him hitting me and beating me up. If only I could explain all the pain I felt so much inside of me. I was dying inside and I could feel... absolutely nothing. I was suffering and could feel my breath slipping away every moment. I just wished mom hadn't died and I did. *She didn't deserve to die in that accident.* "Dad, I'm-" I hesitate, gasping for air for I was still breathless. "I'm... sorry..." He narrowed his eyes at me before letting out a husky whisper, "I'm sorry too." He then raised his hand, clenching the tattered axe. He had broken off the blade of it and it was now just a stick. It came flying down, him swinging it with a crazed look in his eye and I fell unconscious on the ground.

***3 months later...***

I get up, checking myself in the mirror. Of course, I refuse to look at my back, already knowing what was there. Scars, scratches, wounds, burns. Still, I can't help but take a small glimpse, seeing clumps of dried up blood crusting the edges of my back. I shake my head wildly, trying to erase what I had just saw and instead tie up my tangled, red hair back from my face. Dad wasn't home yet thankfully. He had no job and he had convinced his friend into letting us live here for free. Mom was the one who had earned us most of the money before the accident. Dad was fired for throwing a tantrum in his office the day after she died-he punched a few co-workers.

Dad was out again... with friends, of course. I head to the small area in the back and light up the stove. I heat up some of the leftovers of the remaining soup I had gotten myself at the market yesterday with some of my own savings. The soup contained thin slices of chewy meat. It was all I could afford. The taste was flavorless in my mouth, the meat taking me 8 tries to swallow. Finished, I wash up and do what I usually do- get to work. Dad always had left me in charge of taking care of the "kitchen" because he didn't know how to cook. I take out all of our kitchen supplies, basically renewing them you could say. I take out the wipes from the cabinets and cleans up the spatulas and ladles before heading to the knives. I was careful with them- I somehow had a weird talent with knives, knowing exactly how to handle them and exactly how not to get myself cut.

I sharpen the knives, them rubbing against each other. Just as I do... I'm reminded of all the pain dad had put me through. I didn't even notice as I kept rubbing the knives together, them driving against each other wildly, creating sparks of fire. The sparks reflected in my eyes, sending me a crazy vibe as I could feel myself slowly turning mad by the second. Out of nowhere- I let out a high-pitched scream, letting out all I had, screaming as loud as I could as I remembered all the pain I had to suffer through. Delusional and now fired up, I stopped screaming and struck my knife into the trunk of a tree behind me. I gripped the other knife in my free hand so hard that my knuckles turned a ghostly, pale white. I whipped around, throwing the knife directly into another tree's base as it spun in the air and landed with a *ting!* My shoulders heaved up and down with every heavy breath I took and I stand there in complete silence, staring dead straight at my newly found skill. It was time to take *physical* action on dad. It was time to get my revenge.

About 3 hours later, dad came home and as usual, his eyes were a dull yellow from drinking alcohol and were edged with red from years of crying and no sleep. I turn around, looking at him, my silver lilac eyes gleaming and twinkling menacingly. "What are you so happy about?" He grumbles before gesturing for me to sit down. "You ready for some fun or what?" A drunk, raspy chuckle escaping from his throat. I stared at him, wondering how fun it would be to see that knife *in* his throat. I can feel the pure hatred in my eyes as I refuse to sit down. Slowly, I reach down my leg, my hand sliding down my dusty jeans to my right boot. "I said, *sit down.*" He repeats himself, frowning in bewilderment at my actions. Then- he saw. He saw what I was doing and the shock in his eyes delighted me wonderfully. My adrenaline was pumping and inside of me, fireworks exploded. I was reaching inside the shaft of my ash black boot, taking out something that glimmered. A sparkle caught his eye and he blinked, shaking with slight fear and shock at what was happening in the moment. I revealed an 8 inch dagger, it fitting perfectly into the palm of my hand. It felt as if-it belonged there... and it always had. My lips curled into a twisted smile as I took a step closer to him. "What- You stop. Right now," He starts, backing up as he tries to reach for the axe stick. It wasn't there. I had moved it. I giggle at his attempt and walk even closer to him as he reaches for the door. Just as he does, I throw the dagger, it landing right beside the door knob. As the blade lands, pieces of wood splinter and he yelps in fear, yanking his hand back at the sudden act. He looks around for a weapon of any sort, but seeing none, he jerks his head back to look at me. "What now, are you gonna kill me with another dagger?" He asks as he sees me reaching inside my boot again. I cackle maniacally and throw the second dagger onto the shirt sleeve right above his hand. It catches onto the door and he yanks his hand violently in panic. He shouts, trying to get the dagger out of his sleeve so he can make a run for it, but the dagger stuck to the door, refusing to budge. He stares at me, mouth gaping as I speak, "A dagger isn't good enough for you." And now for the finale. I reach behind me, my hand gripping onto the familiar stick of wood, its rough texture rubbing against my skin. I hold up the axe, the same tattered one but this time, with the blade fastened to the edge with rope. If only he had saw it right beside the table. I almost pitied him. "Goodbye daddy." I whisper, staring into his dismayed gaze as my eyes crackle with craziness before giving the axe a good swing, it landing in his neck just like I had wished for. That- was the day I had gone completely crazy.

I drag the body out of my way and take back my daggers along with new ones, restocking my boots. I then grab *only* my clothes, and head out, slamming the blood stained door behind me. Once I had gotten far away, I laugh, my eyes turning into a pale white full of life. I start running down the road into the forest, jumping over small streams and climbing over fallen down trees, giggling as I cut myself clumsily. I lived in the forest for a few months, living on stolen meat, caught prey, or just plants I knew were edible. *Everyday*, I practiced on my target aim, getting skillfully good at it and never missing my target. Soon, I became deadly talented, flinging daggers and knives this way and that, them hitting one tree or another *every* single time. It wasn't long before I had run out of food though and was now traveling back on the road, looking for a butcher shop. After 2 hours of searching, I finally approach a small broken down one. It was obviously old and poorly worked on for the paint was just in slathers on the oak wood and most of it was chipping off. A sign, that was supposed to be lit, was hanging from the roof top saying Bob's Butcher Shop. The lights on it were flickering on and off and I stared at them, giggling at the attempt of the "cozy" theme. I head closer, seeing chopped pieces of meat dangling from the ceiling as a fan tried to keep them cool. I walk up to the front window that didn't have the glass and rest my arms on the frame of the square, calling in, "Oh Bob!" tease-fully. I look into the open window where I could see the mouth-watering meat and I didn't realize that I was leaning forward on the windowsill. Hungrily, I lick my lips and wait until someone comes. Growing impatient, I haul myself through the window, landing with a thud on the other side. I look around, being surrounded by walls and just... well, meat. Excitedly, I yank at a raw pink slice of cow, blood dripping down from its sides. I haul it off the hook, then dragging it across the wooden floor, ready to leave when- "Hey you! Little girl! Put that back!"

I smile and slowly turn around seeing a quite chubby man with a face as red as the meat I was holding. He was bald and was wearing a white, blood stained hat. In his left hand, he was holding a large butcher knife. Surprised that I was smiling, he frowned, scrunching his face up in an ugly manner. "Bob, I'm just an innocent girl," I teased him, sticking out my bottom lip in a pout. He growled at me, seeming to know exactly what I was doing, "If you are, young missy, you best put that back where you found it."

"Hmm... How about-" I tilt my head up to the ceiling as if in deep thought. "No." I laugh and he replies back in a deep voice, "I *will* use it." He moves up his left hand a bit, obviously gesturing to it. And I knew, he *obviously* wouldn't use it on me. Of course, he could chop up all the meat he wanted, but he looked like he would never ever kill a human despite the tough act he put on. Besides, he didn't seem like he was someone to break the law technically. It just didn't quite seem in his nature. It really did look like he was just trying to scare me- like dad. My blood boiled as I was reminded of dad. Instantly, my eyes light up and I drop the meat by my side, juices dripping down my arms. I fumble around in my boot until gripping onto a cold, metal surface. I didn't even say anything and just threw the knife, it glinting as it spun and landed. Bob falls down, on his knees, staring at me as he struggles to find his breath. It wasn't long before he drops dead, a dagger sticking out of his chest, edging in the dark, very familiar, crimson liquid.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: THAT WAS ALL IN THE PAST. I WILL NOW WRITE IN THE PRESENT TIME WHICH IS 1 MONTH LATER. THANK YOU FOR READING THIS FAR! MUCH LOVE <3333333**

"Stupid, stupid, stupid!" I screeched, gripping my hair tightly in my hands as I ran them through my scalp. I screamed for what seemed like 2 minutes as I got up, kicking at everything. At the trees, at the dirt, at the rocks. I pounded my fist angrily into the base of a tree, bits and pieces of wood shooting up my hand and into her flesh. More outraged, I hissed and yanked my hand back, picking out the splinters before continuing my childish tantrum. "There's *nothing* to do. *Nothing* to eat. *Nothing* to drink." I rasped in frustration. "Talk about bullsh-" Suddenly, I whip around, pale grey eyes narrowing as I see something rise in the distance. Smoke. That meant a place. And a place meant where someone lived, and where someone lived- food. I smiled devilishly as I immediately sprinted forwards, flashing through the trees hungrily like a savage animal. I flew over the fallen trees and smacked away overhanging branches and hedges. Finally- I made it. There was a clearing where there was a pretty decent sized wooden cottage right in the center. "No wonder I couldn't find it," I whispered to myself, peering up at the large trees. They were enclosing the cottage with shade and filtering only a little bit of light. "Lucky for that smoke." Laughing, I walk straight up to the cottage entrance. My eyes shift about the door, then deciding to take a different approach. I turn around. *BSSSSH! CHING-THING-LING-PING!* I turn back around, smiling upon seeing the now broken window beside the door. Bits of glass still pinged against the floor on the other side and I checked my boot, checking if any chips of glass were caught in it. Seeing none, I shrugged before heaving myself up, throwing myself to the other side. I landed inside with a thud as my boots crunched against the broken glass. Peering around, my eyes narrow, frowning at the oddly decorated place. To the left were dark windows and dim lights that were barely even bright. The same was on the left and in the middle: was a large, rectangular, dark evergreen carpet with dark tan couches and tiny tables besides them. I look ahead and see several closed, wooden doors. The cottage was actually quite comfy in an old fashioned, vintage type of way. The lamps gave a dim, but warm glow that reflected a bit off the polished wooden walls. I hadn't been inside a house for such a long time now, that everything seemed odd to me. Adjusting to the setting quickly, I smiled slightly, passing by the tan couch and running my hand on the cushions. I felt the embroidery before turning to stroke the lampshade. Old memories instantly flooded back to me like trickling water and I closed her eyes, letting all my favorite, cherished moments come back to me. My first real, warm smile spread across my face as my blush pink lips pulled back, teeth revealing in a flash of pearly white. It was my first heart-felt smile in a long time and I could feel the happiness buried deep down in my soul, covered with thick layers and years of hurt. The room just made me feel comfortable enough for me to be reminded of all my good times in the past.