The Rise - Prologue

By Rainstormxxo

"But what makes a person brave is not letting their fears stop them." –Carl


Fear is a funny thing, a little twinge in your mind—a trick of it, if you will—where you feel a large extent of being afraid. You feel so terrible about yourself, so helpless, so useless...

And sometimes fear is something one can't be put through every day.

The girl screamed, her mind racing, her palms sweating. Her cries for help echoed throughout the large, vintage, mansion. The place had an old family history, and held tons of empty rooms and a dark, eerie, feeling. At least that is what the girl felt when she was there. She felt so trapped, even if only one other person lived with her.

"Daddy!" she yelped, seeing him emerge down the stairs and into the dusty, unused, basement. She held a knife in her hand, and it was sitting at the side of her neck. She couldn't seem to get herself to pull it across, to kill herself.

His eyes held a worried look, but the girl knew all too well it was a disguise. This was the day. She'd tried her hardest to survive the pain he thrust upon her daily but at a point one will crack. And once that happens it becomes harder to heal, almost impossible; but nothing's impossible.

The father to the frail child grinned, his plan having succeeded, "Oh my dear child...you don't want to do this, do you?" In a quick flash he held the sharp, long, kitchen knife in his own hand. "There's a much easier way, you know, I could help you do this."

She stumbled backward in her tight, balled up position.

"Give it back," she growled, her voice sounding strong for a little girl like herself. This, however, only made him erupt in more laughter.

He was done, though, and so was she. He of this chatting and her of the pain. The man shook his head, and towered toward the girl, handing her the knife.

"Do it." His hot, beer-invested breath blew into her field of sense. She held the knife once again, her hand shaking.

'I don't want to go. Please, not like this.' She bit down on her lower, scabby lip with such force she felt blood flow into her mouth.

'I am brave. I am brave. I am brave. But living through this is harder than anything else.' She firmly held the knife and stabbed it into her heart. And she had to die listening to her own father's chuckles of amusement.