Pieces of Revenge

Chapter 1

       Blood splatters against my cheek, dripping down my neck.
       I don't bother to wipe at it, swinging my arm as my elbow connects with the other side of his face. My mind is always calculating, like a computer, spitting out information as I duck another punch. The man in front of me is large, almost twice as wide as me, and just as deadly.
       Height: 6’3.
       Weight: 215 pounds.
       Arms like steel.   
      He grabs my hair, yanking my head back as his other arm connects with my left side. I grunt in pain, swallowing the scream that’s about to burst free. I slam my elbow into his stomach, twisting under his arm in the same motion. My knee connects with his manhood, before my fist connects with his jaw once more.
       My moves are precise.
       Practiced.
       Lethal.
      "Son of a—" I round kick him in the face before he can finish. He drops to the ground with a thud, and before he could stumble to his knees, my foot slams into his face, dropping him for good.
      "That's no language to use around a lady." I say, looking down at him, making sure he stays down. When I'm satisfied he's out, I grab my bag and run.
      I should've been more careful sneaking in, but I memorized the schedule and there shouldn't have been anyone here. The warehouse sits against the backdrop of an abandoned neighborhood, so when my feet hit the payment, there is no one to see me escape. I almost stop and go back to finish the job, but I don't. He's not worth the guilt I would carry if I kill him. He's not the one I'm saving the guilt for.
      I got what I came for, even though it took me a few more minutes than I planned on. He didn't see my face, but he sure will have himself a headache tomorrow. Strangely, I feel rejuvenated after the fight, and I grin as I run down the side alley.
      Finally. It’s finally time to make them pay.
                                                                       ***
      When I finally stop for the night, I'm so exhausted I can't keep my eyes open. I've been riding for two days straight and I know I have to get off the road before I hurt myself, or someone else. More than anything, I want to keep going. Moving keeps me from thinking, and thinking is a dangerous pastime for me.
     It's two minutes after midnight, and it's my birthday. Today, I turn seventeen.  For normal people birthdays consist of preparations, invitations, and celebrations. For me, it is another day where I have to fight to survive.
      When I was younger, especially after I lost my family, I used to envy kids and their birthday parties. People didn't seem to have a care in the world. I heard laughter, as crowds flooded the yards with bouncy houses and balloons strung up in the front lawn. Kids asked for ponies and video games. They looked for the newest and the most popular. Their parents would get them everything they want, cuddling them in love and material things.
       For me, it's different. All I want for my birthday is revenge. It's been my greatest wish for six years.
       My birthdays are not like what they used to be. Right now I'm in another crappy hotel room, laying in my bed, and staring at the ceiling. I have money. Actually, I am set for life, Daddy made sure of that, but staying below the radar is easier when you're hiding in the slumps. Nobody looks for a princess among the dirty and the unwanted.
        I'm trying not to think about being seventeen-years-old because my mind keeps going back to my tenth birthday party. It was the last time my family and I were truly happy. I remember us living on the outskirts of a small town, right on the edge of the woods. For my birthday party, my parents strung up all kinds of colorful balloons across the trees in the backyard, because they knew how obsessed I was with balloons at that age. It looked magical. I felt like Alice in the Wonderland dressed in my pretty blue dress with bows in my curled hair. My gift that year was a giant stuffed teddy bear. That was also the year I had an obsession with teddy bears and life-size things. I was fascinated by the fact that a toy could be bigger than me, and my family knew it. I loved that toy to pieces and took it with me everywhere until the day I had to leave it behind.
        I turn over on my side, my eyes falling to the front window. I can see headlights passing by every few seconds, since the hotel is located right off a busy highway. Usually, I try to not think of my family, but sometimes I can't help it. This trip is filled with flashes of a life that was taken from me. My memories are a trap I can't escape pulling me farther and farther into the abyss of despair. I miss them so much my heart hurts just thinking of their faces. Sometimes all I see are their smiles. Other times I can't rip the image of their lifeless bodies from my mind. I shut my eyes, refusing to let the tears spill. I've cried enough to last me a lifetime.
        Tears are worthless.
        Tears are weak.
        Pain is manageable if there is a purpose to reach.
        I have a purpose in life. I will get my revenge on those who took everything from me. That is my gift to self. I let my body relax as much as I can, willing to have a few hours of dreamless sleep. Tonight, I pray there will be no nightmares.
        Happy birthday to me.