Raven

At sixteen, Standing outside in the middle of the night, barefoot, wearing lingerie I had no business being in--with HIS cum drying between my thighs I watched as fire danced across the rooftop of my childhood home. “The house of horrors,” as I called it, was being blackened by flames. The heat from the fire warmed me, chasing away the frigid cold that had chilled my insides since the night I’d watched my daddy drown my mommy in the claw foot tub she’d loved so much. He’d brought me a doll the day after; as if a new toy could make up for losing a mother. I’d hated him since that day, had wished death upon him a million times and finally my wish was coming true.

The monster, my father was dead. There was no way he could have made it out of the house, not after I’d put the sleeping pills Lennox had given me in the drink he’d demanded I fix for him after he’d finished violating me.

Unsurprisingly, I felt no remorse about playing a part in his demise because he’d deserved to die. Too bad everybody else wouldn’t feel that way. They would mourn him because they didn’t know the truth.

To the citizens of our small town my daddy had been the sheriff. An upstanding citizen. A good guy. To me…he was a murderer. A rapist. A child molester. A monster.

I hated him. I was glad he was dead.

The sounds of siren had just gotten close enough to hear when suddenly my body became abuzz. Lennox. I could sense him. Turning away from the fire I searched the darkness. I found him perched in his tree house two doors down. I called his name, barely above a whisper. Acting as if he’d heard me, he flicked the Zippo lighter he carried everywhere. In the brightness of the flame, his face became visible for a split second then disappeared.

A tiny smile came to my lips. He’d done a horrible, horrible thing for me and for that he'd always have my undying devotion.