The Murderer's Daughter

Chapter II

| Eight Years Later |

She closed her eyes as she listened to the sound of her father led the customer to another room away from his office. Lena knew the room well, every inch of the walls, even the phrase that her father used to lure the man or woman to the room. "May I show you my second pride and joy?" It always made her smile as she waited until her father would come and knock on her bedroom door. Two years ago he promised to let her join in his macabre world when she turned eighteen. That would be in a few short weeks. Behind her closed door she studied many medieval torture methods and devices, delighted by each new discovery she made from the Intestinal Crank to simple practice of flaying where a victim's skin was removed from the body, kept in a simple piece of flesh. She had a journal full of notes that she wanted to always keep on hand,

Notes about torture, psychology terms and even different science studies from demonology to Abnormal Psychology. She had all the time in the world to learn, no disturbances, no distractions. After going through the Routine she would always disappear, it was rare for her to leave the house other then to enjoy the outdoors. She made sure her father never hired and help, insisting that she organize and clean the house by her rules. Sometimes she forget that it was her father that was the true adult of the household but neither minded the role she played in making sure the house was constantly presentable. She picked the flowers to display, she picked the food to eat for meals, knowing what her father liked and disliked. 

She listened for the screams, even though they would never come. The entire downstairs was soundproofed, and the windows bulletproof. No one ever tried to rob the house, there was a pit bull that roamed the property, an abandoned animal that Lena took for her own and nursed back to health five years ago. She named him Rasputin, after the witch doctor who killed the Romanov family back in 1918. She always named a pet after a historical figure, she had had a black cat named Elizabeth, after Elizabeth Bathory. The animals stayed outside unless taken straight to her room. Rasputin was vicious yes, but by her command. He would not hurt a fly unless she said the special word that would make the dog charge and fight to the death but the test was never used yet. She opened her eyes again, sitting up in bed to look out the window and saw Rasputin, his white coat prowling the grass and as if by some strange connection, he looked up to the window at her.

She smiled, pushing her dyed brown hair from her eyes and walked away from the window, taking out her book entitled Witches and their Craft by Ronald Seth and went to the page she left off at in the history of the witches. Now and then she considered practicing sorcery and witch craft but she wanted to learn more before she went into the practice. Her and her father were not religious, spiritual perhaps but they didn't believe in a God. Nor a Devil, but they knew that there was something dark in both of them. The sun did not excite them, the world seemed worthless without a desire to live. The book in her hands was small and the pages a yellow color but she loved it, taking the best care she could of it. She still did not possess a computer, the only laptop was in her father's top desk drawer on the right, the only connection besides his phone that gave them access to the outside world and society. She still avoided it whenever she could. She never watched television, unless it was a movie that her father recommended she see. 

News and reality shows however were pointless and unnecessary to her. If she wanted to learn about something medical, she would find a encyclopedia on the human body and medical devices used for surgeries. She had a stack of books piled on a table by her bookshelf, the shelves already filled and compacted tightly with ancient and books on topics from languages, to history to mysteries that were not explained yet. Her mind was always in a panic at how many books there were and how little time she had to read them all. What would she do with the information? Use it to her advantage. She would help her father achieve his goals so she could continue on with what she loved doing. She never had actually took part in taking a life, her father did all of that. She even wrote out all of her questions that she had for her father written in her journal. She had kept the list numbered and was at least up to thirty five questions or so but she was waiting for her birthday to ask.