Myra Vincent - Chapter 1

A small girl - no more than eleven years old - laid, scrunched up in her bed. A small window let in the silver light of the full moon that softly illuminated the girl. The night was cold and the girl gathered shreds of blankets around her shivering body. She cupped her hands to her mouth and blew her warm, misty breath onto them.

She heard the noises from the room next to hers and covered her ears with her pillow, trying to block out the awful sounds. The old, thin pillow did nothing to muffle the voices of her mother and client. The girl clenched her chattering teeth and through blue lips, she sang.

The girl heard the front door to the house open and close. Her beating heart pounded in her chest as the sound of footsteps, climbing up the rickety stairs, got louder. The footsteps approached the small girl’s room and the door swung open. The girl - frightened - hid her head under one of her raggedy blankets.

“Don’t be stupid,” a strong, male voice demanded.

The girl uncovered her head. In the soft moonlight she could see her brother, standing only a few metres from her bed. He removed his big, black boots and then busied himself with removing his weapons belt.

The girl slowly reached underneath her bed and inconspicuously grabbed the shining new dagger that she had stolen from the marketplace that very day.

Her brother approached, his hungry face promising more violation. The girl shuddered, almost dropping her blade, but that hateful face spurred her on. She leapt from her bed, lunging with her shining dagger. He dodged and in a fluid motion, he had his sword - from the weapons belt on the floor - in his hands.

The girl lunged again.

Her brother laughed at her feeble thrusts and easily swung his sword to block the dagger.

The girl, spurred by primal rage, lunged again and again. Her brother’s mocking laughter pierced her fragile heart.

“There is nothing you can do to beat me, little sister,” her brother teased. “You are mine.”

The girl’s heart froze over for a short time. All compassion, all love, all feelings, left her for a single moment.

And in that moment she lunged - one final time - and buried her blade to the hilt in her brother’s sneering face.