No Help

Chapter Three

A cool breeze drifted through the house as the sun disappeared the fifth day she'd been there. The goosebumps pricked her skin and she new what she wanted. The house was silent, she knew the men had passed out intoxicated hours ago. She stood up, her body bend, still attached to the chair, as she tiptoed over to the broken window. The sunset reflected it's orange onto the trees and made a path through the open branches. A deer looked her straight in the eyes and paused for just a second. Using her feet she kicked the piece of broken glass on the ground so it was sticking out, propped up against the wall. She pushed, using the wooden walls to push the glass through the rope, breaking it off both her feet. The bloody marks of the frail rope pulsed under her skin. Being able to walk with her butt still in the chair, she used the broken glass in the window to cut off the rope on her wrists. She was an animal cut loose. Quickly rubbing her sore wrists she threw open the creaky door. The first time she'd left that room in five days, and yet she was expecting a welcome home party. The men were sprawled out on the torn up couches, fast asleep. Walking past them and into the small kitchen, she hastily searched the cabinets. She ripped open the last cabinet to find it empty. Completely empty. She stopped for a minute and examined the kitchen. The card table with half drinked beer bottles on it. The dirty dishes in the sink. And the hidden cabinet above the refrigerator. Quietly she climbed on top of the counter and reached above the refrigerator. Opening the cabinet, she fingers grazed the black gun. But she could barely reach it. She almost laughed at the inconvenience of her size as she hopped on the cabinet and swiped the gun. She had a list. First she approached Liam. The one who was there as she opened her eyes, the one that had bright blue eyes right under his closed eyelid. She put her hand to his face, carefully not to wake him, and felt the fresh blood flowing through his body. As she held the cold gun above his ear, she squeezed her small hand around his neck. His eyes threw open as his air had been cut off and his face started to turn red. Her eyes brightened as he struggled for help, trying to say something, anything, pleading as she pulled her pointer finger back on the guns trigger. His body fell limp in her arms as the guns echo jumped off the walls. The two other men awoke with a startle. After they took in their surrounding, their friends lifeless eyes, the gun pressed against his head, and her, they charged at her. She tooked Tyler dead in the eye and hit him in the head with the gun with all her might. What could she say, revenge was the evil sister. She dropped down and gripped the belt laying on the ground between her soft palms. Hudson pulled his arm back to strike her, but she whipped him in the face, hitting him right in the eyes and probably causing blindness. She turned around to face Tyler's unconscious body and decided that would do for now. As the next thing on her list, she tied Hudson up in the chair, just like her minutes ago. He fought, swiped at her, but every time he would miss because of his lack of sight. The list was almost complete, but before the last check, she took in the shack one last time. The lifeless body on the couch, the rise and fall of the man with gushing red blood coming from his head, and the blind man screaming profanities at her.
"I hate you! You've ruined everything I love! My family!" Angel almost danced with delight at the thought of his family hurting from his tragic death. She looked up at him, and smiled. She had ruined his everything, three guys lives, and she loved it.
"I win," she concluded. She walked out of the broken down shack without looking back. The dark forest consumed her as the brief breeze was now permanent. Reaching into her pink skecher, she pulled out a match box and grabbed the wooden stick. She pushed the two together and striked. Just like the school fire. The yellow flame lit her soul and filled her eyes with light. She looked back and forth between the match and the shake and then imagined the check mark in her head. And she threw the match on the front porch of the shack. The wood lit with fire as she anticipated their deaths. She wanted to jump with joy as the whole forest filled with the crackling of the fire. And with that she turned around and followed the gravel drive way out to the road, along with her completed list.