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Aria Hill grew up unloved. Uncared for.
When the little girl was just five or six, she wanted to know what made her mama and papa happy. The blue tin placed on the countertop was the answer.
"Expensive," they explained. "Happy-box," they called it. "Ours," they repeated. "Don't touch!" they screamed.
But the little girl needed to know. She needed to understand what a little box could do that she couldn't.
So she took it. And with it she fell.
The girl's mama and papa hurt her, and they kept on hurting her.
And so it began, years upon years of abuse. The girl's mama and papa liked the power they felt with their knives and ropes. Fists and boots.
When the girl grew older, the girl met a man. She grew to trust him like family should, even after learning he was high-ranking in the American mob.
The man taught her to fight, for the girl didn't want to stay weak.
So she became a fighter. A racer. A killer.
The once innocent girl, was innocent no more.
But then one day, a whisper was whispered- and the wrong ears heard.
The now young woman's parents found one of many secrets she'd kept from them, and they were furious.
They took that secret- and that secret proved deadly in her papa's hands.
The young woman had two choices. Both painful. For family was no longer something she trusted.
But she chose, and she learned the truth; her mama and papa weren't hers at all.
15 years ago:
A desperate couple searched for what they could not create themselves- and in the arms of an unsuspecting woman, they found what they were seeking.
The babe was two and with her mother in a mall. No foul business as one could expect from the woman because of who she was, but in a simple search for clothes and toys.
Now, the racer, fighter, and killer knew-she was missed.
The young woman was the daughter of supposed monsters, but that would be no different from the ways she already knew, and so she went.
- E