Samantha

Prologue

"Samantha, please go play outside." said Hannah Miller, looking at her daughter. Samantha Miller looked back at her mom and smiled.

"Why?" she asked with such innocence, it was hard not to hug her and kiss her.

"Daddy and I will be painting Sebastian's new room, and we don't want you to get dirty. Okay?" she explain, moving Samantha's red curly hair out of her face.

"Okay." answered Samantha with a wide smile, walking out of her parent's room.

As Samantha headed outside, she saw a figure walking towards her house. She couldn't make out who it was, but it looked like a man. Maybe it's Mr. Owens, the neighbor?  thought Samantha. The figure saw Samantha, and immediately walked the opposite way. Samantha was scared, for she knew she shouldn't trust strangers. But the figure walked away, leaving Samantha less scared. She started playing with her kitchen set, smiling at the sound of her mom's singing from the inside of the house.

An hour later, Samantha became bored of playing. So she decided to go back inside, hoping her mom made some lemonade, or something that will make this heat less uncomfortable.  

Samantha sat up and started walking to the door of the house. As she was about to open it, she heard her mom yell, "Samantha! Please don't come inside! Please!" Samantha was confused. She didn't know what her mom was talking about, but she obeyed anyways.

Samantha was a curious little girl, so she wanted to look through the peephole of the door, to see why her mom didn't want her to go inside. But before she did, she smelled it. Smoke. Fire. Her brain told her to leave. To be far away. But she knew her mom, dad, and her future brother were there. She knew she had to go to them. Even if it meant disobeying her mother. Samantha opened the door and a wave of smoke greeted her. She started coughing. 

Someone got hold of her and she started panicking. She started kicking, but the person who was holding her didn't let go of her. 

"LET ME GO!" she screamed. "MY FAMILY IS INSIDE!" And still, they didn't let go of her. So she did what any five-year-old would do. 

Samantha screamed.  She screamed because her five-year-old brain told her that her parents and her brother were going to die.

She screamed. And screamed. She didn't know she was capable of screaming so much. But she was. So she screamed. 

.   .   .

The green-eyed policewoman wrapped a blanket around Samantha, even though it was super hot, and sat down next to her. They were in the police station. Samantha's parents were dead. Her brother died before he was even born. Her house was destroyed. She had no other family. She was alone in the world. She knew that. She did.

"Samantha," the policewoman with green eyes said, looking at Samantha with pity. Samantha hated it. "Do you know who started the fire?"

Samantha remember the figure, the man. She remember how he turned around and walked away. Towards the direction of the back of their house. She remember him.

"No." Samantha whispered, looking down at her chubby small fingers, shaking her head. "I don't know who started the fire." The policewoman wrote something on her writing pad.

"Okay." she said, standing up, and left.

The policewoman didn't see how the confusion in Samantha's eyes left.

And it was replaced by a frown.

A frown that seeked revenge.