She sat under the small willow tree, and pulled out a book. Her bright green eyes were framed by thick dark brown eyelashes. Her long silky hair came down to the very small of her back. Her pouty pink lips were pulled up into the smallest curve, the softest hint of a smile that ever came across her lips. Her pale skin seemed to glow in the sunlight. It was then that I decided that she would be mine. Whether she liked it or not, willing or unwilling either way she would be mine; and she would give me love.
Christine Malone was an average girl. If you could call being a single mom to a kid that wasn't even her own but her younger brother, while her mother was hung up on anti-depressants. Her only santuary was the willow tree that was kept in the middle of the park across the street. But she never imagined that her santuary would become her own hell.
