The Revival (Book Three in the Wattpad Featured Return Series)

Prologue

                                        ***Part 3 in the Wattpad featured Return Series ***

              "Live as if you were to die tomorrow. Learn as if you were to live forever."

                                                            - Mahatma Gandhi

1898

My small body is being abused by him for the last time. He's breathing heavily on top of me, reeking of alcohol, sex, and filth. I didn't move until I was sure that he's passed out. When I feel him begin to go slack, that's when I know it's time.

Sliding myself out from beneath him, I run to the kitchen, not knowing how long I'll have before he wakes. I must finish my plan, the same plan I was assembling before he interrupted me earlier when he came barging through the front door of the small wooden house. Blinded by rage and fueled by drink, he searched for me. The moment his eyes locked onto mine I cowered behind the cupboards in the kitchen already knowing what was to come. Hiding from him is all I've been doing since my mother's death.

It didn't take long before he found me. Plucking me up off the floor, he dragged me by my hair, kicking and screaming, back to the bedroom. It's gotten so much worse since my mother killed herself, but then her suicide is what gave me the idea.

I'm not sure if he knew that I needed something from him but the chemist, Mr. Jones, conveniently left his door open. He never leaves his door open. His son Christian needed him and I took advantage of the situation. I'm sure I'll pay the price for this in some way, but right now I don't care. I just want this all to end. But it never really ends for me, does it?

I mix the poison in with the water in the kettle and stir, letting my mind wander back to Jackson and the promise I once made him long ago. Usually I try not to think about it. I'm not strong enough to wait around for him this time. He can't find me like this; I've already been broken. I've been in my own personal hell for nine years, paying the price for what I did the last time around. I shudder as I picture him on the floor of the cabin lying in his own blood.

I'm responsible for Jackson's death. I ended his life by getting him involved in mine. Now I'm being punished for my mistake over and over again. That's how I see this lifetime, as retribution, and I can't endure the pain of it any longer.

That's when I decided to see if maybe I could control things, take charge of my own destiny for once. A maniacal smile spreads across my face as the kettle begins to boil. I don't plan on waiting until my 18th birthday this time, nor do I plan on waiting for him. I feel an assault on my heart at the thought but ignore it. I've become adept at putting up walls.

Wrapping a towel around my hand, I remove the kettle from the heat to cool. Wouldn't want my father to burn his tongue, I think looking back into my bedroom at what I've been cursed with and hearing him stir. I quickly prepare the coffee and set out two cups, adding lots of sugar to cover the bitter taste of the posion. Ignoring everything in me that's telling me not to go through with it, I remind myself why I need to. I'll either end up in a new life, a prisoner of my own destiny again, or somewhere else. I'm not sure if that place will be better or worse, but I'm willing to risk it.

My father stumbles out of the room and I offer him his cup, not looking up until he takes his first sip. Some twisted part of me wants to see this. I want to watch him and witness the moment the expression on his face changes and he realizes what I've done. He deserves this and much, much worse. I peek up at him as he gulps some of the coffee down. He pauses for a moment with his cup in the air and puts his hand to his stomach. His eyes bulge out of their sockets and he starts grasping at his throat as he tumbles to the ground writhing in pain.

I sit down with a victorious smile warped onto my face and add plenty of sugar to my own cup. I've done all I can in this lifetime. I take a sip, cringing as the bitter taste works it's way down. This time I'm forfeiting fate's vicious little game. She wins.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

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