Retaliation

Prologue

"About time you got home." Patrick said, sitting by the dining table near the entrance, and folding up his afternoon paper. He had sandy brown hair that glittered in a certain light, with his normally sparkling blue eyes, though they suddenly appeared dull and glassy. His high-waisted trousers were grey, his pale white-collared shirt was distinct and his golden cufflinks noticeable.

"Yes, I-I was at Jessie's house for cake and coffee." I replied, stammering. My fear of my husband grew, as my heart thumped against my chest.

"You were never a good liar, Danielle." He stood up so fast; his chair fell back, as he removed his cufflinks to roll up his sleeves. I finally noticed the pungent smell of alcohol in the house. At the table, there was a half-empty bottle of liquor. Patrick was drunk.

"No, no, I swear." I responded, my voice shaking, my heart racing. I took a step back, the counter jabbing me in the back. He was drunk, and I wasn't sure what he would do. I had never even seen him drunk. Whispering, I repeated, "I swear."

"How many times have I told you that all you need to do in my house is cook and clean?" He asked coldly, steadily approaching me. The putrid smell of liquor only intensifying. Would he be doing this if he wasn't drunk? Was it just the alcohol that made him like this?

"But I can do so much more! I can work at a factory or learn to teach or go to school or something!" I insisted, my fear breaking, as I stood tall.

"You were at one of those women's rights events again, weren't you?" He asked, snickering."Well, it's very simple, you will not go anymore."

"You cannot make me do anything!" I shouted. I was done with his unwarranted commands. I was going to leave him, I'll go to my parents' house. It was over; I never wanted to see him again. There was only so much even I could take.

As I turned to leave, I felt a sudden sharp blow in my gut. I looked down at my body and saw blood. I fell forward into Patrick's chest, only to have the distinct scent of alcohol fill my nose. I sank to the ground, my body no longer able to support itself anymore. I turned my head toward Patrick, who was holding a sharp kitchen knife covered in a thick red liquid. It was my blood, as it dropped on the floor. I felt a rush of cold air brush my abdomen, as I saw my dress with a red blood stains off center, where the knife punctured through the material, into my skin. The knife slipped through his fingers, clattering to the clean floor. Patrick fell to his knees, sobbing, and his eyes bloodshot, as he held my hand, and placed my body onto his lap.

"Dani... I am so... so sorry... Danielle... Please... Stay..." Patrick whispered.

His voice began to feel distant, my vision began to blur, and I felt my heart stop.

I had dropped to the ground, tears racing down my cheeks like fire burning up my skin.

"I... I'm dead, aren't I?" my voice trembling.

"Yes, you have died. I am truly sorry." A white skinned, brown haired woman answered.

"Wh-What do I do now?" I asked, my tears clouding my vision.

"We understand this is a difficult time for you, but there happens to be a small window of opportunity for the both of us." The same woman said.

"What do you mean?" I asked, suddenly curious.

"We would like you to become a Guardian." A dark-skinned woman replied.

"A Guardian?" I asked, unfamiliar with the term. Is this what death is like? A whole new set of opportunities?

"A Guardian protects those that need protecting, those who cannot protect themselves. Loves and cherishes. A fierce warrior." A blonde haired man answered.