Twisted

Prologue

Hello friends :)
I give you a warm welcome to Twisted. First of all, I'd like to thank you for taking interest in the book and I hope you grow to love it. You are free to vote and comment and I'd really appreciate it if you do.
Just for the sake of it, let me just state that all characters and events in this book is totally coincidental and are imaginary works from the twisted mind of the author (me).
So here it is, Twisted, hope you enjoy :)

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Prologue:

There has never come a time in my short lived life when I have made a decision as stupid as this. However, investigating and fighting crime has been in my blood for as long as I can remember. It is my middle name. Well, not really, but you do have to expect a love for providing justice after getting yourself addicted to detective and crime shows. But this time, it won't be Kate Beckett or Patrick Jane investigating. No, it will be me, Claire Waters, the first ever 11 year old detective of the world!

I tiptoe my way to the back of the old rundown warehouse. At first sight, the place looks scary, dark and haunted. But looks can be deceiving and what goes on around her is more dangerous than ghosts. Adults are dumb, really. And I have no idea what makes them so 'reality based' once they turn into adults! They think when a little girl complains about a mafia with a drug trafficking business going on in their local warehouse, the television has rotted her brain. My parents told me to stop this nonsense I have been ranting about and the police just laughed and called me cute.

But now, it is time to prove my claims. And soon enough, my whole town will call me a hero and bow down to me and the police will know better than to doubt a girl. I smile at the thought.

Peeking from the edge, I lift my camera to my eye and click pictures of some huge men loading crates into a truck. I check the pictures to make sure they are clear. The light from the lantern next to me was adequate for clear pictures. I made sure my shadow didn't fall somewhere where people would be able to notice them. The lantern was on a stack of hay and I wondered who exactly was dumb enough to place it there. But it was useful for light. When they pass, I look up to take more but the men go inside the warehouse. I now realize that I have to prove those crates are filled with drugs. I take in a steely breath to go to the truck. I make sure to keep the lantern down, on the ground.

But I stop myself from taking the first step when I hear footsteps behind me. When I turn around, a fist connects with my face and I fall down groaning in pain.

"What's a little girl doing here?" The young boy said in anger. I was surprised to see him there. What is a boy, no older than a year or two from me, doing here? It takes me a minute to bring myself back from the pain. And in that time, the boy takes my camera, throws it down and then crushes it with his foot, the sound of glass breaking and flimsy metal breaking the silence of the night.

"Please, don't." I whisper. He grabs me by the collar of my shirt and rams me into the wooden wall of the warehouse.

"Didn't your parents ever tell you about sneaking off into the night? Or minding your own bloody business?" He spits at me and punches me in the stomach, sending another pained sound out of me.

"I'm s-sorry. P-please s-stop," I beg, tears streaming down my face. But he didn't. Instead, the punches grew harsher and when I was down on the cold, dirty ground, he kicked me into oblivion without mercy. I put myself in a fetal position to protect myself from any more blows. He walked away a minute later and I took the opportunity and tried to move. But in the state I was in, with wounds on my head, blood from my nose and mouth and a few broken ribs, the best I could do was throw the lantern on its side and break the glass.

The boy returned back with something in his hands and I knew I wouldn't survive.

I have always heard that in your last moment, your whole life flashes before your eyes. Your best and most happiest moments with friends and family. But in my case, the last thing I saw was a growing flame in the hay and the metal rod being swung in my direction.

That was the day I died. The day Claire Waters died.

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A/N: Hello again, Friends :)
How did you like the prologue? Hope it caught enough attention to head on over to the first chapter. Don't forget to vote and comment, I'm always open to what you feel about the book. Even if you want to rant about the most silliest and strangest of things, you are welcome to do so.
That's all for this page, see you for chapter 1.