The Ravenwood

The Ravenwoods

At the age of six you would think that a young child wouldn't have a fear in the world. Except the monster in their closet or under their bed.

All children except me.

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I was taught to have no fears. Fear leads to weakness, and weakness was not exceptable.

My seventeenth birthday was tomorrow. They always began with getting hit with something. Scars of these unforgettable moments covered my porcelain skin.

A sting of light pain flashed up my cheek as an unknown object flew threw the air. Something warm trickled down my cheek. Reaching my hand up I wiped it away. I glancing down at my hand, blood was smeared across my fingertips.

"Sorry princess, I thought you would have ducked." My dad said as he walked into the room carrying at least five daggers.

"Like that would matter." I mumbled.

Ever since my mom died dad had changed. He was no longer the Ben Ravenwood everyone knew, he was a changed man. My dad had grown hard with hurt filling his heart loosing his touch with life. Every time he looked at me his eyes filled with sadness and hate. Probably because I was the spitting image of my mom with my chestnut hair and Forrest green eyes.

"Well, happy early birthday I guess." He said handing me the daggers. Great! More weapons, just what I need. I already had a room filled to the rim of them.

"I know what you're thinking and you can never have enough things to help protect yourself. I have told you this time and time again. Yet, you fail to listen every time."

"Well, I'm sorry your majesty I didn't know that I would be protecting myself in the kitchen from my own father. At least what is left of him" I sneered. What was with this sudden outburst of his? I was suddenly slammed into the nearby wall. My skull ricocheted off the marbled surface. A loud smash echoed throughout the room as my father's cold eyes burned into mine.

"I am your elder and you will speak to me with respect!" he yelled into my face, pressing me harder into the wall.

I knew better than to fight it, but I wasn't thinking straight. I grabbed his fingers and pulled them back far enough to break them. I started to bend them back with as much force as I could. I let go as soon as I heard a satisfying crack. I saw an opening as my father let me go. I grabbed our steel toaster from the counter and smashed it across his face causing him to fall to the ground in an unconscious heap.

I have been planning this escape since I was thirteen, but I have never been able to follow thru with it until now. Running up the stairs into my room I grabbed my getaway bag. This bag contained all the necessities; clothes, money, passports, and weapons. Running back down the stairs I crashed out the back door running to the place I knew like the back of my hand. The forest.