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" Of warring sons due healing comes destiny,

But through them Fathers of the Cursed will bear...

a    n e w    e n e m y . "

I looked at the last words that spelled out the Legend's translation and blinked rapidly. "That's it?" I flipped through the book and gaped at the blank pges that stared up at me. They seemed to smile and grin in the unnaturally white desk light...

I wrinkled my nose and sighed as I messaged the triple bags that hung under my tired eyes, "You've GOT to be kidding me!" I yelled to the cieling and banged my fist unto the desk in frustration, my teeth gritting. "I went through all of that? With that freak Gabreil...? For an unfinished Legend?!" 

I rolled my shoulders after some time and let the ugly yawn possess my jaw. When I was done yawning for the ump-teenth time I leaned back in my wooden chair, arms folded across my chest, as I felt the tension built up in my spine from reading such a story.

"But..." I mumbled, "What does that mean...?" 

Here in my room, the darkness of night had set the tone for a really scary story. It was all creepy looking with the dim street lights on our streets casting an orange glow that peeked from the space between my curtains and the silence that lingered in the house. I felt my throat tighten at the thought of Gabriel coming back into my room.

As I glanced back at my bed, the hello kitty cover slightly crimpled at the edge because I never really knew how the spread beds properly (according to my mother....), the playful pinky-ness of it never really took away the horrible memory of what happened to me...

I had to accept it.

I had to accept that some strange guy snuck into my room and molested me in my own room... IN my own bed...

My heart stammered when I heard the door downstairs creek loudly. I shot out of my seat and listened as hard as I could-- like one of those mice on National Geography. I heard one heck-of-a-big-groan and sighed with relief when I heard, "Ahhhhh!" As my dad stretched his back. 

I knew it was him especially because he started singing messily... Or cheerily... I can never tell which, one of his old songs. I rolled my eyes as I listed to him make his way to the kitchen, stumbling and occasionally cursing trhought eh dark house as he searched for the light switch on the wall beside the stairs.

"As down the glen one Easter morn to a city fair rode I
There Armed lines of marching men in squadrons passed me by
No pipe did hum, no battle drum did sound its dread
But the o'er the 's swell rang out in the foggy dew..."

"Pfft..." I couldn't help but spit a laugh when I heard his wobbly voice. "I can't sing, but dad always makes me feel better about it... He sounds awful." I giggled and turned lazily to the bed. My eyes growing more adn more dreary by the minute. My legs and body numb and achy at the same time.

As I fell into bed, the cushion welcoming me with pillows and the sweet scent of Downy, I listened as the rest of my dad's old song floated above my head in watery whispers as I drifted off to sleep. He switched from one verse to another song that I was familiar with, but couldn't really tell exactly what song it was...

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