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Avenging The Fallen

Book By: Elizabeth03
Action and adventure

Abby Hanson was a normal teenage girl until one day her life changed forever. Her parents get murdered in front of her very eyes by a group of men that are adamant that her parents killed their leader.
Sworn on getting revenge, she finds the killers and make plans to give them the same thing they gave her parents----death.
But what happens if her plan doesn't work out? What if her plan brings her unknown family secrets, a beating, a close call, or maybe even her life?

(Sorry, not done yet, will post the rest of the story when I finish!)

Submitted:Jun 7, 2012    Reads: 26    Comments: 0    Likes: 0   

REVENGE (Real Name of Story)

A chill runs up my spine as I walked down the cold, dark corridor.

I should have never have come here in the first place, I think to myself as I tip toe down the hallway.

But I had to. I just had to.

I look down at my tattered clothes. Old dirty white graphic t-shirt, dirt covered grey sweatpants, the old black belt around my waist, ripped running shoes, and I can see some loose strands of auburn hair around my face, untangled, unlike the rest of my hair.

Suddenly I hear a noise. Almost slike something is...running?

I whip my head around, but it's just a rat scurrying away from a crack in the wall.

Yuck. Couldn't they try to keep this place just a little more neat?

I continue my walk, keeping a close watch in case something catches me by surprise again.

I get close to the door where the Cruel Ones' are having some sort of meeting, from the sound of it.

Good thing I got in their house without making much noise, thanks to them.

Heh, too bad they forgot to take their house key right before they killed my parents.

I look down at the knife in my hands, and grasp it. I check my house key and their key that's on a string around my neck. Then I look at my other hand holding the pistol, and check if it's loaded.

Yep, all good.

I swear I will avenge my parents, even if it kills me! I think with determination, and start tip toeing more slowly towards the light brown door at the end of the corridor.

I will make them pay.

Let me give you an explanation: a month ago these psychos barged into my house and were adamant that my parents were the people that killed their group leader. While I was in the washroom, they went into our kitchen, where my parents were, and got out a freakin' AK47 and shot them dead. They didn't see me watching from the stairs, plus it's a good thing they didn't check the laundry hamper, where I was hiding when they came up to the second floor, and going back to the top of the stairs, staring at them with burning hatred as I watched them carry the bodies out.

Ever since then I've been crying or punching something the moment I think that moment when I saw my parent pale, white and still. I felt the whole world was on top of me, breaking me slowly with its crushing weight, ruining me from the inside out. The worst part was that I couldn't do anything to help the police catch the murderers, or find my parents. It's funny, I found them before the police did. Maybe because I had the key. (Metaphorically and literally.)

After a few days of my parent's murder, I decided to run away. My home is either on the street or on some occasions the ruins of my once-home. Honestly, it's hard to believe that a month and a half ago I was at school, learning how to solve algebra equations and daring my friend to ask that cute boy in our history class if he wanted to go out to buy slushies with her.

That feels like a life time ago.

Ever since then I swore to serve justice, even kill them if that's my only option. (Personally, that is my first option.)


Alright, I know going in there is suicide, but I have to die fighting, and I can't keep on waiting for me to get my comeuppance.I have so much anger, hurt and grief in me I can't hold it any longer!

As I get closer, I start to hear parts of their discussion, with those disgusting little voices of theirs, so I stop, to strain to hear.

"...I'm telling ya, no one will find them!" I hear one the murderers say, most likely the huge dark skinny guy with the stubble I saw at my house a month back. If you're wondering why I remember that, trust me, when something like that happens to you, you don't forget a single second of that horrific experience.

"Well they found the girl in the lake, maybe they'll find them!"

"Yeah!" another hoarse voice says in all of the hubbub.

"Shut up! Well worry about that later, right now we need to start looking for the actual traitor!" a deep voice booms, clearer than the rest of the bastards murmuring in the room.

Everyone else falls silent. This guy must be their new leader.

I start continuing my walk, hoping they won't leave the room or find all their weapons I hid in their backyard.

I'm right at the door when my anger washes away for a few moments and common sense returns to me.

After all, I'm only 17! How will I defeat nine grown men? I am a blackbelt in karate, took wrestling for four years, can get a bullseye in archery, and know how to work a gun, but still. (I am fickle when it comes to phsycial activities.)

These guys must have done stuff like that longer than me.

I'll just have to take the risk, I decide.

I honestly don't give a damn if I die today. Life sucks. I don't want to live on the streets for the rest fo my life. I'm am not going back to the orhanage. And if I do, I only have a year left of staying. My life is one big hopeless mess. With my parents dead, no relatives, and my mind constantly on revenge and possible death, I'm not exactly guarenteed for a happy life.

And I'm not backing down now, after I finally found them.

I take a deep breath and barge open the door.

'Who's ready to die?" I yell as I barge into the room.

For a second I look around the place, taking it in. There's a wooden table in the center of the room, with 10 chairs, nine occupied, the unoccupied one at the front of the table, while the rest are all around it. a few papers, pens and bottles of empty cans of beer are scattered around the table, along with pins stuck in random places.

The walls is painted leaf green, but it's mostly just wood now, with a few written pieces of paper which I can't read pinned to the sides.

in the top right corner are piles of clothes, mostly coats.

...I've got to say, it's a pretty small room for nine guys.

Then for about two seconds I look at the murderers, with their puzzled expressions.

They all looked like they saw a ghost.

Maybe they recognize me. Good. That'll give them a fright. The people they murdered's daughter.

Three guys look the same, all wearing dark colours with black/brown hair and brown eyes, with a scar on one of their faces or arms.One has green eyes and blonde hair, another has black hair and is dark, another has grey eyes with light brown ahir, and is giving me a very cold expression.

I look at the rest of them with a glare, not caring about their shocked expressions, until I see something that makes me do a double take.

A guy with a black t-shirt, green eyes the exact shade of fresh cut grass, brown curly hair who looks pretty young, maybe 30 at the most; is staring at me. I swear, even though I don't remember him, he rings a bell. Something about those piercing eyes makes me stop dead in my tracks, and this unexplainable prickle of terror runs up my back that makes me shiver. And as quick as it came, it's gone.

Whoa. What was that all about? I think to myself right before I remember where I am and get out of my daze.

"Who the hell are you?" the guy in the black t-shirt demands.

"Why don't you shut up?" I snarl, suddenly outraged, probably that I'm in the same room as my parents' killers.

"Look, why don't you just put the gun down and go back home and let your momma tell you some bed time stories." One of them says, one of the identical guys, in with a high pitched voice, and the other murderers snicker.

"I want some answers." I yell as I see the men lose the troubled expressions. I resist adding that my momma would be able to tell me bedtime stories if they haven't killed her.

"Don't tell us what to do!" the same guy says.

"What do you want? Money, clothes, guns? Well, too bad! You ain't gettin' nothin'!" The black t-shirt guy says, and everyone else nods in agreement and snickers.

"Listen here, just cuz you're a kid doesn't mean we'll spare ya."

"I'm not leaving until I get some answers."

"Eh, what'dya know? Listen, if you want to walk away in one piece, you better leave now." Another guy snarls.

"Who are we kidding? Nah, we won't spare you." grey eyes says. That explains the cold expression.

I suddenly get outraged. How dare these people treat me like a baby? They don't know what I'm capable of. They have no idea that I know what they've done.

Ah ha! I think as realize the perfect thing to say to shut them up.

"I know you killed my parents. And another innocent being."

The Cruel Ones suddenly go from being cocky smartasses to pale, scared weaklings.

"How the hell do you know that?" Scar Face asks.

"I saw the whole thing, with my very own eyes. And not to mention I heard you idiots talking about a girl in the lake."

"Shut up, you know nothing!" Another man says.

"Hmm, scared are we? Well, listen. If don't you want me going to the police telling the cops everything, you better give me some answers. Or should I just kill you all instead?"

"Alright, I've heard had just about enough with you." Grey Eyes growls, getting closer to me with each word.

"This chick's nuts." I hear someone whisper.

"She's going to get killed." Another one says, and they all start snickering.

I gulp.

"I'm warning you, don't come a step closer!" I say with the bravest voice I can muster, my hand holding the pistol shaking as I'm about to point it at him.

Why am I so stupid?

I mean, really. Did I really think I could defeat nine men, at least two of them serial killers? I'm not goign to stand a chance. Oh, why did I have to be so impulsive?

"Wait." Black t-shirt says.


"Let me take care of her."


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