Rage

"You're angry. I can tell!" Angelina said. Her long brown hair fell to her eyes and her eyenlinder smeared from the tears that fell from her cheeks. She had pissed of her dad. She was prepared for what was coming. Her mind started racing and she knew it would be one of the few: hit her, cut her, rape her, or kill her. She hated going to her dad's house on weekends. She couldn't get out of it no matter how old she was. "You've done enough Angie!" he said. He touched her cheek gently. That's when it occured to her that he wasn't going to just hit or cut her. He was going to do the worst possible. "No, no, no! Daddy please don't hurt me!" she pleaded. She held out her arms and took him into a warm and welcoming hug. He pushed her off and laid her down on the bed. When doing so he took the pillow from the freshly made bed in the guest room and placed it over her pale face. At that moment she realized she was going to die. She couldn't do anything about it. As she became short of breath she started kicking and thrashing and her panting father. He was tired from holding her down. She thought quickly and hit him in the back of the head. He fell over off of the bed and she ran out the door. How far was she from home? Three hours by car. "S**t! My phone!" she ran back to the door and the last thing she seen was a flash of a bullet entering her chest. She hollered, but her father lived six miles from town. There was no one around that could hear her. He took her by the hair and the last words she herd was "No you little skank you can't hurt me anymore. I killed your mom and now I killed you." Everything went black.

 

   Later that night her father had fallen asleep after cunningly disposing the body in a neighbor's yard who lived 3 miles north from him. He was dreaming of the event over in his mind. It rewinded itself over and over again. He couldn't get the image of his sixteen year old's face when he'd shot her. He'd decided he'd had way too many beers that night and regretted what he did to her. Did he mean to harm her? No, he just wanted her to learn that sneaking out was bad. Where could she have gone? The lake out back. Why was he so upset? No idea.

 

CLANK! CLANK! The man jumped out of his bed and ran to his shot gun. Who could be in his house? He walked to the living room and found nothing but his bloody daughter looking straight into his eyes. In a demonic voice she asked "Why did you do that daddy?" He blinked three times and she was in his face. The man jumped back into the recliner in horror. "How are you alive?" he asked. He'd shot her straight in the heart. She was dead. He knew it. He has checked himself. He dialed 911. "911 what's your emergancy?" the person on the other end said. "Yes, my dead daughter is in my house! I'd shot her a few hours ago and buried her in my neighbors yard and now she's in my living room! Her eyes and black and her teeth are jagged!" the man said in the phone. "Oh my! Stay right there! A deputy will be there soon!"

 

Meanwhile, the deputy sleeping had answered the ringing phone. "Who in the hell is calling this la-" another voice came on the other line. "There was a girl shot just three miles from your home. I think you should have a look. He'd called 911 with a complaint of his daughter standing in his living room." The man's mouth dropped. "You mean old man Dan?" he asked. The other man on the phone replied "Who ever lives on 378 Minnesota Rd." The man's expression turned from worry to anger. "I don't know who this is, but Old Man Dan died 10 years ago of a heart attack!" the other guy on the phone was dumbfounded.