They are going to kill me! My own family was going to kill me!
It was raining relentlessly, and yet my bare feet found the grip they needed on the slippery street as I ran, looking for somewhere, anywhere, to hide. I was exhausted; my lungs were on fire, but I couldn't slow down. If I did, they would catch me.
I knew something was wrong when they had been unusually kind by throwing me a birthday party, more accurately put, a goodbye party. They had never been nice to me; it got me on edge. I tiptoed to their bedroom and heard them plotting to strangle me and pass it off as suicide.
My own uncle, my father's blood brother, wanted to kill me. What could I have done to them? Why were they after my life? I had done everything they ever wanted. I became their slave in my own father's house.
I ran faster; I had to get out of the street, so I did a right dash into the woods. I had to survive. I needed to. How could one be so callous as to think such a thing towards his own niece?
My feet slipped in the mud, and I rolled in the murky dirt. I could see nothing, but I kept going. I looked back briefly to see if they were still after me. They wouldn't follow me into the woods, would they?
Looking back was a mistake; the ground beneath my feet gave way, and I felt myself tumbling down. I tried to grab on to something, but I just kept spinning down a hill. I tried to look around me and saw I was heading for a small road, a light in the distance.
If I could just make it to the light and find someone to call the police, I would be safe. But the last thing I remember was the sound of my skull meeting stone and the sharp pain that followed.
The light came closer with an engine sound. I struggled to keep my eyes open, but it got harder with every breath. The light was in my eyes now, and footsteps approached me. I saw his feet before I saw the rest of him, glowing. He was a ghost.
I was dead, and he was coming to get me. To take me to a more peaceful place.
He dropped to his knees; his lips were moving, but I couldn't hear anything. I knew only one man in heaven, and his name is
"Daddy…"
And then, darkness.
*****
Victor's POV
When the girl opened her eyes, I could tell she was still in pain. She blinked through it and tried to sit up. Clara raced to her side and tried to calm her.
"Easy, my darling. You have been through quite an ordeal." Clara said, holding her shoulders to keep her down. The girl's hand flew to her forehead, which had been generously bandaged by Clara.
I sat on the sofa with a stiff drink in my hand while Clara worked her magic. She hadn't had anyone to fuss over in five years, so she had her energy flowing over.
The girl had called me 'daddy.'. Did I really look that old? I mean, come on. I am just forty-five. I still wondered what she was running from. She was barefoot; her body had been torn by weeds, and her feet bled. That wasn't from the fall.
Something or someone had been chasing her. I had picked her up and brought her to this house. My house; mine and my wife's house. A house I hadn't lived in for five years. A house I only visited once a year to say hello to my wife.
"Where am I? Who are you?" She asked, clearing her throat and looking like even her voice sounded strange to her.
"It's okay, darling. You're safe now. This is Mr. Harrington's home. He found you last night. What is your name?"
"I--- I don't know. Its ---." She winced painfully. "I--- cant--- what is my name?"
"Can you remember how you fell?" Clara tried again. The girl only stared blankly at Clara and gently shook her head.
"It's okay--- its okay. I'm sure it will come to you."
Great, she has lost her memory too! Fantastic!
Clara walked up to my observation spot. "Well, this is not good."
"Will you let me call the police now?" I asked Clara. She was almost seventy, but her stubbornness was worse than that of an ox.
"You said yourself she was running. Whoever was chasing her could be looking for her. She has no recollection of what happened. What if we call the police and she is handed to the same person chasing her?
"What are you going to do with her then?"
"Me? I didn't bring her home. She is your responsibility, and besides, she needs a hospital regularly." She finished and walked away. I followed her instantly.
"What the fuck are you talking about? The one time I do something good, it bites me in the ass."
Clara chuckled. "You and I both know why you saved that girl, and it had nothing to do with being good."
"What are you talking about? I found her dropping from yee high. I wanted to drive past, but she was in the street. What did you want me to do, run her over?" I shouted.
"I wouldn't put it past you." Clara continued moving around the house, gathering stuff she really didn't need to put away.
"For fucks sakes Clara, what will I do with her?"
"Take her back to the city with you."
"What? Are you crazy?" The woman was going mad in her old age. "I have a better idea. You have done your best for her. I will just drop her back on the road I found her in. Someone else can continue from where I stopped."
"Again! You and I know you will not do that."
"What the fuck, Clara! Why the hell do you keep saying that?" I said in exasperation.
"Because she looks dangerously like your dead wife. That's why you saved her, isn't it?"