No One Knows

Acts Of Agression

All she did was stand there. What else was there to do? The policeman in front of her couldn't possibly have expected a response, at a time like this? If he did, he was going to be disappointed. How could it possibly have ended like this? All that she loved and more had been destroyed, right before her eyes, which now welled with tears, spilling over and on to her face, running freely for no one to see. Staring, but not seeing.The fire had taken hold of the entire structure, licking playfully and menacingly at the white washed planks of wood, formerly her porch area, where her father's chair had been. How he loved sitting in that chair... just watching the world pass by him. A portly and somewhat inexperienced police officer, was trying but failing miserably to get a response from Lauren.

You wouldn't think Lauren had never been the type to stand out, to shine in the middle of a crowded room, or to shout in the middle of a silence. Her dark blonde hair, and fairly ordinary features did not distinguish her much, but her eyes did. Those eyes... if I told you they were blue, then I'd be lying. The colour of mist in the early morning, over a quite lake, maybe that would make it a little easier. But then again, I still wouldn't be giving you the full picture. If I told you, that that mist was ringed by a dark band, the likes of which night has never seen, then maybe I'd come just a little closer to the truth. The real thing though, the feature which made people look twice, to want to be around her, to want to lose themselves in those eyes, was what lay behind them. If ever you've looked her in the eye, you've seen all her happiest memories. The long summer days that you wish would never end, the kiss which could make your heart speed up, and your chest tight. However. You'd see the day her family was killed in a house fire. You'd see the day she first saw her sister hit by her uncle. You'd see the day that she dies, and the day she was reborn.

It all started the day Lauren died.

I'd love to say it was just like any other day, but the sad thing was, it was already the worst day of her life. Rain drops the size of marbles splattered on the windshield of her car. Driving along the highway, contemplating the trials and tribulations of her day, Lauren thought of more arduous tasks to endure that evening. Her mother was on a business trip in London, and her father had left that morning for his sister's funeral. As if her aunt Sarah's death had not depleted what little faith she had left in her own existence, then it was the fact that dearest uncle Adam was there to look after her and her little sister Angela.

Adam had never always been a violent man. His adoption into her mother's family had been something of a shock when already, 6 children were within it. But none the less, Adam had been loved and cared for by his adoptive parents, treated evenly as the others and seemed the most protective of Lauren's mother, as her usual habit had been attracting unwanted attention from the local men. However, at his mother's homicide, he sought revenge upon the poor bastard who had decided to rob his mothers store that day. His incarceration wasted 10 years in prison, a harsh, and violent Texan prison. Anyway, on his exit, he had moved back near Laurens mother, and volunteered to baby sit. His intentions were good, but his tendency to drink, and newly short fuse got the better of him. He loved his nieces dearly, but the bottle of Jack, never far out of reach, received priority.

As Lauren pulled into the driveway, and sheltered beneath her plastic art folder against the torrential rain, she instantly knew something was wrong. She shoved her key into the door, and cautiously edged into her house. The fire was crackling in a homely way in the living room to her left, the only source of light so far. All the lights were switched off, maybe a power cut, but Lauren suspected Uncle Adam was unable to handle the light in his drunken stupor. She heard soft snoring echoing from the sofa, thankfully faced away from the door in her living room. She edged up the stairs, nimbly skipping all the creaky boards, and headed along the landing to Angela's room. Pacing carefully along the silent floorboard, making no sound where she tread, she pushed open the door, and peeped inside. Angela whimpered quietly, for what reason, Lauren did not know, but whatever it was, it couldn't have been good. Flicking the light switch, she nearly screamed in anger and shock. As Angela opened her eyes, an enormous, ugly looking purple bruise framed the entire left side of her face. Only a small girl at the age of 7, Angela's face was not that large, but the degree at which it covered her face was staggering. Her tear stained face looked up at Lauren, in terrified silence she continued to cry.

"Annie? What happened? Who did this to you? Omigod, I should call an ambulance!" whispered Lauren anxiously, tears staining her own face at this point. In a daze, Angela moaned in reply, and then said, "...Noo....Noo don't... He'll hit me again.... I just wanted a drink....."

"Who Annie, who?"

"Uncle....Adam...."

"What?!"

"....Uncle...Adam..." she choked out for a final time before lulling herself into sub consciousness.

Everything Lauren did after that was a blur. All she remembered was the drifting to the kitchen and almost caressing the butcher's knife in wild anticipation of her actions... Pacing slowly toward the living room, and bending round the door to check of the bastard was sleeping, she tip-toed in. His untroubled and almost careless sleep pattern did nothing but anger Lauren. The boiling volcano in her chest exploded, and with an inhuman shriek of rage, she arched the knife high above her head, and then plunged it deeply into his chest, sickly relishing the burst of blood from his lungs. The savage satisfaction in her revenge had an animalistic quality to it, which would remain within her forever more...