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    Let Mercy Come – (Chapter: Part One)

    Story written on August 27, 2008 by Numb_.
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    Genre(s): N/A
    Rating: N/A
    fanfiction(s):
    Character(s): N/A
    Number of Comments: 5
    Words: 1196
    Story Shortlink: https://mail.assertive-maroon-jellyfish.104-250-143-187.cpanel.site/?p=19398
    Author Notes:

    This is an EXTEREMELY violent fic. Filled with rape, torture, and murder. Don’t read it if you can’t handle that.

    Chapter 10 (Part One)

     

    "Who the hell are you?"

    The words invade my ears causing my feet to come to a standstill. My reflexes don’t allow me to take the time to consider my options, to consider who it might be. The moment I spin around my left arm is at my side, I twist my waist, keeping loose until the final moment. I hit her square in the jaw. Striking upwards I rupture the nerve, successfully knocking her out. Finally my mind registers who I’ve just hit and I catch her as she all backwards. I stare at her for a long moment before her name rolls off my tongue. "Kyla." My heart races as I repeat her name several more times.

    How could this be possible? She’s dead; she’s supposed to be dead

    "I can’t live this lie with you anymore Raife." Kyla begins to cry as Dad and I stand off in our own little corner watching our lives fall apart before our eyes.

    "Please Mom don’t do this."

    She’s crying, doing everything in her power to get her to stay. I think it’s easier for her to cry. She’s only fourteen years old, still just a child. I’m not sure if I want to cry, maybe the fact that I’m six years Kyla’s senior makes me hold back the tears. I’m putting on a strong face for her knowing that in a few moments I’ll be the one holding her, lying to her as I tell her everything will be alright.

    Christine takes a step forward grabs Kyla in her arms and pleads with her to stop crying. "I’m sorry baby I have to do this for myself. I swear I’ll come back for you. As soon as I set myself up with a good job I’m coming back for you." Somehow she manages to tear herself out of Kyla’s grip. With her last suitcase in hand she exits through the front door, giving neither my father nor myself an ounce of attention.

    And then in a matter of moments she’s gone. Gone and I’m not quite sure I miss her. As I hold Kyla’s sobbing figure in my arms I wonder why I feel so empty. Why don’t I miss her? Why didn’t I beg her to stay? What’s wrong with me? What happened to my emotions?

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