Little Lisa (SLC #1)

So long had I been like them but now I realise the errors of my ways. I have to escape that old life. It seemed so easy but I was never so fortunate.

My boots crunched loudly along the gravel at my feet with every step I took. Behind me, the home I wished never to return. In front of me, a long, winding road with no apparent end. The light wind whistled through the trees at either side of this trail, their branches waving me off. I smiled meekly at their farewell, adjusting the shoulder straps of my rucksack. I marched onward, determined to put as much distance between myself and that place as physically possible.

My entire life had I lived there. There with the big, happy, dysfunctional family. Oh, how they would tease and torment. How they would make you bleed and only laugh at the sight of your struggles and pleas. Bruises would mark your body and scars would forever dwell. Your eyes would hollow and sink, losing the life they once had. There was no rejoice nor hope for you for you were simply but a play toy. Only to be gnawed on day-in and day-out by the big dogs.

I had witnessed so many pass through our doors and not a single one would ever leave. They’d sit chained to their tuffet, a bloodstained gag between their lips. They’d cry out, tears falling from their eyes but it was a futile gesture. There was no pity nor remorse in the eyes of their captors. There was only hunger. A hunger for torture and pain that would and could never be sated. At one time, I may have joined in the “fun” but now, that was unthinkable. It made me nauseous.

My mother and father were so dark and twisted and their children equally so. It seemed almost a curse that we all would take on their role when we would come of age. My older brother, Charlie, he was the first to take joy in the activities and would watch our parents carry out their bloody deeds. He even asked to wield the blade.

Then it was my sister, Mary. Her dress soon became stained red and her hands dripped. She thought of it only as a game. A game where she always won and my, oh how she like to win. She’d look at me with that wild look in her youthful eyes, showing me her yellow, rotting teeth inside her wide grin. Dark pouches had found themselves hanging beneath her eyes forever, vivid lines marking her quickly ageing face.

I was the last to be overcome by the corruption that plagued my family. I saw the beauty in the deep scarlet that soaked their hands and poured from our prisoners’ throats. I saw art where before there was only death and darkness. Finally, Father’s dagger found its way into my hand where many would find themselves falling to.

Many years I had relished in the feeling of pure ecstasy it gave me. But now, I hit my low and no longer did I enjoy their gargling cries as their own blood filled their gullets. I wished never to cause such harm to another human being ever again. Never again would I see their wicked, lopsided grins as they plunged blade after blade into their game. 

Quickening my pace, I didn’t dare look back. If I did, I might have found myself drawn back into the darkness. I couldn’t let that happen. I just wanted to be clean. As I lengthened the distance, my back began to ache with the weight of my entire life sitting on my back and my feet seemed to sink further and further into the uneven terrain beneath me. I bit my lip, trekked onward, anger flaring up inside me at my own weakness.

The moon hung high in the sky above me, its glow lighting my way. Often, it was a comfort to look up and see its light shining down on me. A symbol of will and strength. Now, I followed the path it had set out for me. My only ally to watch over me. 

I wondered how long it would be before they noticed my absence, Before they came looking for me. The thought shot fear up my spine. The things they would surely do to me. I would become their next plaything. 

That night, not once did I stop or slow my pace. I had never been so determined in all my life - not even with Father’s blade. But as I moved, something seemed off. This all seemed so easy. Too good to be true. It really couldn’t be this simple, could it? Of course not. I did not have that sort of good fortune.

So I turned around, just to allay any doubt. What I saw had me catching my breath.

Charlie stood tall, a malevolent look in his eyes, turning his dagger over and over in his hand. No words needed to be said. I knew what he was telling me: run. I spun on my heels and sprinted as fast as I could but Charlie was so much faster, with those long, gangly legs of his. I felt his hand grab my shoulder roughly, pulling me back into him. “Little Lisa, too good for her family, is she?” Venom dripped from every word.

“Let go of me, Charlie!” I cried out, attempting to shove him away. I was not nearly as strong as he. He gazed down at me with those wicked eyes I knew all too well. They used to look back at me when I looked in the mirror.

“But everyone knows its more fun when the prey struggles.” He chuckled diabolically. “You’re no stranger to that.” While at one time I would agree with him, now I just wanted to throw up. “Adrenaline makes it that much sweeter,” he whispered in my ear.

Suddenly, an idea sprung to mind and it caused tears to prick behind my eyes. I didn’t want to. “Charlie… I’m sorry,” I murmured. He seemed amused by my response.

“Apologies aren’t going to cut it,” he told me.

“That’s not what I’m apologising for.” Pure bewilderment crossed his face and his hold on my slackened ever so slightly. Just enough for me to reach the hilt of Father’s dagger which still sat on my hip. I took the blade and drove it into his gut violently. Whatever life there had been in his eyes was now gone and his jaw hung slack, blood dripping from tongue. His body’s weight fell on me and only by releasing the dagger from his belly and shoving him to the ground roughly, was I able to evade his crippling form. His limp body would never stand again and no one would ever fall by his hand again. I shed a single tear as I sheathed my weapon before dragging his body into the woods that lined my track, kicking clean gravel over the blood stained stones.

Casting a single glance over my shoulder, I continued my journey. 

****

As the sun’s rays finally found their way over the horizon, I was filled with pure joy. All of this seemed possible now. And not far from where I was sat a squat little town, bustling with people. Beautiful, innocent people. I was so happy I almost cried.

I broke into a sprint towards the townspeople, excitement welling up inside me. Suddenly, my pack felt weightless and my legs had never been stronger. I tore up the road and in only a few minutes, I found myself standing on the pavement. I saw the happy, smiling passersby as they did whatever it was they were doing. I needed to find someone. Someone important.

I came to the police station. I figured they’d be able to help me. Approaching one of the officers, I cleared my throat gingerly. “Excuse me? Would you be able to help me?” I asked politely. I heard that was what people liked. His eyes raked over my body, his eyes wide. I looked down to see my clothing was stained with my brother’s blood and probably a few other peoples’. My blade still dripped with Charlie.

“Ma’am, we’re gonna have to take you in,” he said in a deep voice.

“What?” I asked in bewilderment as the man pulled out a pair of handcuffs. I couldn’t run from him - there was nowhere to go - and he was far too strong for me. Stronger than Charlie. Suddenly, my hands were bound and I was thrown in a cramped cell. I felt like those I used to hunt.

So there I sat, day after day, week after week, month after month and so on and so forth. I was never going to leave this place. I was as trapped as I was back home. Only now there was no escape.

Reviews

[JoeM]

You've got the gift, Sophie. However, I should have known better because of you reference to adjusting your rucksack, but I was back in the sixteenth century, when 'police station and handcuffs brought me back to reality. I still think you could do a book featuring your assassins. Very well done.