"Are you gonna call me Mr. Lizard from now?"
"Of course."
[Book One of The Adelaide Duncan Series]
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ADELAIDE
A five year old little girl with two curly raven hair, pulled to two pigtails was shoved up against the wall. She struggled against an olive skinned man with stubble on face and heavy dark circles around his eyes that made his eyes sunk. His raven hair was messy, as if not brushed for long. His eyes glinted in the low light from the room and it was dark with craziness. There was uncanny similarities between the girl and the man. Maybe he is her father.
His grip was tight, and in his maniac state,the girl she too weak to fight him. She cried in helplessness as her head got lifted up and slammed back against the wall a good four times. Her pink tee was splotched with crimson blood, some fresh, other stained with time.
A fist connected to her face. And another. And another. And another. And another. And another. He stopped for catching his breath as she slid down against the wall.Her cries of help sounding muffled; as if she were underwater. Everything was blurry and utterly painful. Her head was heavy and she was disoriented. Her father looked at her and gave a sinister smirk and raised his first once more.
--------------------
Today's the day where I try out for two of the ten jobs in this Paradiso Glade.
While I work in the bloody famous Bloodhouse, I wonder why the hell Winston enjoys this job so much; it's so disturbing. He told me to cut the meat into pieces for stake and I'm doing it pretty well. The pieces might not be all uniform, but at least I can chop it without throwing up my food.
The overwhelming stench of blood and meat is literally burning the hair of my nose, making me sick.
Thinking back to the dream I had in the morning, I am downright horrified. How could someone hit their child like that? How could he? Why did he looked so crazed? Did the girl deserve it?
No! No child deserves it.
Maybe the girl is me. Or she's my sister. Or she's me. I accept it and am somewhat contended that I have at least something from my past life.
Maybe this amnesiac is temporary. Maybe I will have back my memories soon.
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, as I hunch over to catch my breath.
In four words or less, the Bloodhouse was a nightmare. I literally had to run off the Bloodhouse to puke in the corner. I was doing well until Winston gave me a literal play by play of 'how to kill a chicken and skin it'.
The cries of agony of chicken still ringing in my ears, I take a deep breath, looking at the Bloodhouse where I will have to go to again and work till lunch, mentally setting it on fire.
