Chapter Text
When I was a little girl, my understanding of revenge was as simple as the Sunday school proverbs it hid behind. Neat little morality slogans like "do unto other," and "two wrongs don't make a right." But in reality, when deception cuts deep, someone has to pay.
My father died an innocent man, betrayed all his life by the people he put his trust in. And in the end, he was betrayed by life itself. My father's chance for justice to have the life that he truly deserved was stolen from him. His only option was to forgive. But I have others.
When everything you love has been stolen from you, sometimes all you have left is revenge.
***
I jogged back towards the house early in the morning, praying in my heart that my father didn't notice that I didn't come home last night.
Closing the door quietly behind me, my eyes caught the sight of several orange bottles of prescribed medicines from the doctor lay on the coffee table. I approached the table and sighed.
My father didn't take the pills I set aside for him last night.
"Annie."
My father's voice sounded from behind me. Holding one of the orange bottle in my hand, I spun around to face him.
"Dad, you forgot to take the pills–"
I trailed when my eyes landed on my father's face. I was stunned when I saw his smile.
And for the first time in months, this smile wasn't the one he forced just to reassure me that he was okay. No. This was a genuine smile, one that reached his eyes and brightened up his whole person. A smile that for the first time in forever finally convinced me that he was truly okay.
I gazed at him in awe and wonder, watching the healthy streak returned to his face that usually was pale and sickly.
"Dad?" I asked, a smile involuntarily made its was on my face. "You look..." My voice got stuck in my throat, but my father finished my sentence for me.
"I know this sounds crazy, Annie," he said as he walked briskly towards me–in a way that he wouldn't be able to do yesterday or the past few months. "... But I feel great. I feel healthy. I-I'm lost for words. Honestly I don't understand how the chemo worked so fast but it did. I can feel it," he said, with beaming joy as he placed his hands on my arm. "Sweetheart, I'm okay. We both are going to be okay," he stated happily, pulling me into a tight embrace.
I was struck with awe and disbelief, and it took me a couple of seconds before returning my father's warm embrace.
"Oh, daddy..." I sobbed, unable to hold my joyful tears.
He pulled away from the hug and shook his head.
"No, no, no. I'm not having any of that," he scolded me softly as he wiped the tears from my cheek, still unable to contain his happiness.
"I'll tell you what," he suddenly added, a playful glint in his eyes that made me smile wider between my tears, "We're going to celebrate. You, and me, today after your shift, ice cream."
An amused laugh escaped me, making my father grin. I stared at him softly, watching how his grin made him look so much younger despite his already greyish hair.
I nodded eagerly and wiped my wet cheek. "Ice cream. How old are you anyway?" I teased him.
A smug grin appeared on his face. "Don't be lippy. And you might no longer be 8, but don't pretend you don't like ice cream anymore," he retorted playfully, making me roll my eyes and giggle.
Deep down it was still felt surreal to me that she actually kept her end of the deal. Soon it would be my turn to fulfill my end of the deal.
I actually shuddered at what future awaits for me, but as I look at my father's healthy, bright face, I was sure that I'd just live in the moment for now.
Later on, I was sitting on one of the round tables in front of the café, a smile that I couldn't wipe off of my face since this morning as I stared at the ice cream in front of me, waiting for my father.
Then, there he was, across the street, beaming at me, looking extremely fit and happy–almost like a child. Our eyes met and I returned his smile with one of my own.
From afar, my father put a hand on his heart and mouthed 'I love you'–a gesture he never failed to do since I was a kid every time our eyes met when we were too far apart to actually hear each other's voice. He never failed to do this, even when I was a child, on stage, nervous as I was about to sing in front of the crowd. His reassurance always comforted me.
I put my hand on my heart too and was about to mouth the same thing when I saw someone behind him bumped him. My father was pushed towards the busy street and before my mind could even register it, an SUV sped up in his direction.
My heart stopped. It was as if time slowed down as I saw my father's body lurch into the air like a rag doll and land on the hard pavement to a stop, unmoving.
The next thing that registered to me was the way the air was taken out of my lungs and the deafening sound of someone screaming to my ears while I ignored the fire that suddenly burned the fresh, black full moon tattoo on my left wrist.
The deafening scream turned out to be mine.
***
I took out the handgun hidden inside the desk drawer. Loading the bullets into it, I sobbed quietly as I remembered the moment that I buried my father just a few hours ago.
Slipping the gun behind my back, I steeled myself and headed out of the house that left so many memories–the good and the bad–both equally hurt.
I arrived at the small, old looking bookshop that I bet sold shady looking books that I would never even bother to look at. But I wasn't there for the books.
I entered the small space quietly, but a voice that made my blood ran cold with hatred made me freeze.
"I've been waiting for you, child," said the voice with a sickly sweet voice that only served to burn me with hatred. I locked the door behind me and flipped the sign so it would seem closed for customers.
"Show yourself, witch," I seethed, "It was you. You broke the deal!!" I hissed hatefully. "WHY?!" I yelled angrily.
The woman dressed like your normal middle aged woman, wearing white from head to toe, but I knew better. Her heart was dark and she was already beyond redemption. And she was heading for punishment.
"The deal was to heal your father in exchange for your soul. I didn't break the deal, child," she replied with a faux sweetness, the same tone that allured me at the same time into her trap.
"You tricked me!" I howled, my blood boiled in rage as my eyes blurred with swelling tears that I pushed back down. Red was all I saw.
The woman had an impassive look on her face and didn't answer right away. "I might play with words a little," she finally said with a shrug, "Someone once told me I'm rather good at it. They say in this world, I can be a successful lawyer too rather than a shopkeeper–if I want," she said with a sneer. "Too bad I'm actually answering for a higher calling."
I stared at her now with an equal murderous and disbelief look. She wasn't just evil–she was also crazy and demented. I let out a bitter laugh.
"You clearly deserve to rot in a madhouse in hell," I mocked her, sending her a cruel sneer of my own though it still didn't conceal the hatred and bitterness in my expression.
Since I was a little girl I was always good at picking fights with bullies–and with years of training, the skill didn't seem to lose its effect, even to a witch.
I watched as the sickly sweet smile on her face melted into an ugly, full-blown evil witch kind of snarl. I smiled.
"Now I see you," I said lowly, the cruel smile that mirrored the bitterness in my heart flashed for her to see.
"Your soul is mine!" she screeched, the look of hatred flashed in her eyes, her pride getting the best of her.
My smile dissipated, turned into a scorn. "My soul is gone long ago. And what's left of it, I would've given to you if only you kept my father alive," I said with a suppressed hatred, making my way towards her. "Guess what? Now I'm taking your soul."
I was well aware of the gun strapped behind me. But as we locked eyes at each other, the hatred and thirst for vengeance to avenge my father burned me to the bone and I wanted nothing but to feel her life seep out of her as I suffocate her with my hands.
I broke into a run and jumped over the counter, my high-school years spent being active in a gymnastics society aided me a lot in that movement that otherwise would probably give normal people some strains.
The witch's black eyes widened in horror at my sudden movement, but then it was too late for her to run. I grabbed her roughly by her neck and slammed her to the wall, watching her choke under my grasp.
"Die, bitch."
Suddenly the black tattoo that was on my wrist grew hot until it burned me and I was forced to loosen my death grip on her neck, but I refused to let her go.
However, to my dismay, my loosened grip was enough to let her find her voice and it was a grave mistake that eventually set my fate in stone.
"Ilsyahrav ilemendí warshu Ardä ni melkora...."
The foreign language that made me feel sick to the stomach echoed and rang in my head. By the time I realized what she was doing, it was too late. Before I even had the time to stop her, my whole body felt as if it was being torn apart piece by piece by an invisible force so strong, the remaining of what I was was swallowed into a complete darkness.
When I opened my eyes, I was greeted by the bluest sky I've ever seen.
***
[Author's Note: So here's the teaser of my new book. What do you think? Just for a brief description, if you've read my previous book Infinity Ring, while this book is also a Legolas Love Story, Thorns and Roses will have a slightly darker theme than the former. While Infinity Ring adopted Destiny as its theme, this book will have a Revenge as the general theme on it. (Have you seen the tv show Revenge on ABC? Obviously the main inspiration for this whole book).
My OC would have different personality than my previous one (more mature, but not particularly older), and also you'll see more of Legolas' dark side (the tough, super cool yet smoldering soldier like the one we all see in The Hobbit movie.
Currently I already have 27 chapters ready, which means I'm halfway from finishing the book. Let me know what you think and if this prologue is enough to tease your interest ♥️ Thanks for reading!]