Revenge

Hate

If I were going to describe this in one word, it would be..... Hate. Pure hate. There is simply no other word to describe it. Hate is a very strong word, but since when was I trying to use a delicate word?

She took everything from me. My home, my family, even my baby brother, Flynn. He was only 2 two months old, and yet she still took him from the grasp of my hands. Left me there to suffer in pain, and agony. Screaming at the top of my lungs to turn around and come back. I can remember it all too well... the fire, the blood, and the crying of an innocent baby echoed in my mind.

"Take me instead! Ill be worth more than any of them!"

"Hmmmm..... where is the fun in that?"

You never think your life will change, until the day that it does. I was completely unprepared for her attack on my family. Everything leading up to that day was perfect. I had the most beautiful baby brother, kind older sister, and loving parents. We lived in a farm house on the coast of england. It was small, but my paradise.

The chickens ran freely down the beach, flapping rapidly each time a wave would crash against the sand. Every once in a while, one of them would become brave and stay on the beach when the tide came in. Their skinny legs would give way as soon as the water made contact with them. It would pick them up and drag them in. All you could hear was the clucking of all the chickens as their friend floated away. It made me smile to see all the panicked chickens pacing up and down the sand. I would usually be the one to go and fetch them.

I didnt mind though. That gave me the chance to step into the water, let the ocean spray collide with my face, and the water swallowed my bare feet. My favorite part was diving into the blue water. Chills run up and down my spine when the water combed through my hair. Each time I open my eyes, its like I'm looking at a whole new world. It was all a blur, and yet at the same time, breathtaking. But its all gone now... the sandy beach, my family, all I have left are distant memories.

My vision became fuzzy as my eyes filled up with tears. "Im not going to cry. I'M NOT GOING TO CRY!" I shouted at myself as the memories flashed back in my head. I could still see his big blue eyes looking up at me, and his cute little smile creeping across his face. I collapsed onto my knees, cradling the air where I held the baby before he was ripped from my arms. It felt so real, like I could feel him with me.

"Get off the ground you filthy pig! And stop crying. Only children cry. Are you two years old?"

"No ma'am." I replied.

"Good. You have things to do Rosabelle. Get to it before I get the plank!"

"Right away ma'am..." I stood up and walked across the floor, brushing my apron off with my hands. I stopped. "Where is the bucket, ma'am?"

"Oh, you devilish little girl! You want to play these games with me?"

"No ma'am. It is not in the same place as it was before."

"And whose fault is that? Not mine thats for sure! I would never touch something that dirty !" I could feel the rage broiling inside my head. It was getting harder and harder for me to contain it. The only thing I could do at that moment was clench my fist, tightly. "If I were your mother, I would have left years ago! Ha! I would not have given you all the things you have. You are not worthy of it. I would have made you sleep in the pigs pen, made you make your own clothes, AND made you clean the stall. Your father was a fool to marry that witch. I warned him that she would come to no good in raising you. No good! And I was right. You are a greedy, nasty, spoiled rotten little girl! I would have gotten rid of her years ago, before it was too late."

"ENOUGH! You cannot talk about my mother that way! She was kind and loving. And now she's gone!"

"How dare you talk to your grandmother that way!" She walked over to me and raised her hand.... then swung. I fell to the floor. The cold of the tile clashed with my cheek. The sting from her hand lingered on my face a little too long. I watched as her satin and lace skirt landed on the floor. I closed my eyes. The last thing I could remember was hearing the clink of her slippers grow farther and farther from me, until I could no longer hear anything.