Dark Horse

The cool afternoon breeze swept my curly hair into my face. A group of seniors were playing football nearby. I sat alone, headphones on my ears, staring at the face I had sketched in my sketchbook five years ago. A face I liked to stare at to fuel my anger and hatred for people.    Closing the book, I twisted a strand of grass between my fingers. Five years ago, I lost my father in a burglary at our house. It was a well planned event and was carried out efficiently. Two days before the incident,  I had drawn a face I had seen flashes of in my mind. I hadn't been concerned because it was just one amongst others.    I laughed drily remembering how those sketches had helped greatly in my father's murder investigation and other cold cases, when the police finally believed me and stopped thinking  I wasn't crazy.    Standing up, I arranged my bag and walked past the footballers. One muttered "freak", under his breath. I didn't

I glanced at my watch. 8:30, it proudly said, sneering at me. My mom stopped the car and got out while I unbuckled my seat belt. She was about to say something but refrained from doing so.Trying her best for nonchalance she, undoubtedly, tried to get as she drove me to school, she couldn't quite hide the hurt peeping from her green eyes. My own, twin replica of hers gave away nothing. "I will not talk to you if that's what you want. I won't stay away, no matter how much you detest me because I'm your mother and it's my job to see you're alright." I almost smiled. " you've been doing a very terrible job." I said.Nodding, she sashayed into my school to, no doubt, make an excuse for me being late. She could have said I went crazy and they would believe! Because of the strain, they would say. With anger overruling any other emotion, I covered it up with a mask of calm and composure.The door bell rang as Becca was towelling her wet hair. Who was that? She yelled "Liz

A guy, clad in black paced back and forth, next to his very bored friend. " I don't understand! There wasn't supposed to be a mistake! I thought you asked your 'friend' to keep a party? Are you listening to me!!?" he said. His friend, who was staring at his perfectly buffed nails, rolled his eyes and said, " No, I'm not. Also, I did ask him to. It's not my fault you couldn't pick a lock! "The first guy threw his hands up in anger. " you're not concerned that we screwed up? "" You screwed up, not me. Also, I don't care because I'm not taking the fall for this. It's your fuck up. " his friend said, picking a hand mirror and admiring his perfect black curls. " So.. You don't care? " the first guy said, quite hurt." I think I just said that in my previous sentence." came the reply.   Before the first guy could reply, the door opened, angrily creaking and two guys with rifles walked in. They gave frightening glares

Adrianne's POVThe room was dark, faintly lit by candles. The room was tiny and there was only one means of escape. The door. The window was too high and the room smelt of burnt matches, wax, dirt, blood and hopelessness.A girl, not more than twenty one had her arms shackled to the wall. Her face was wet with tears and her voice was cracked from her screams. The door creaked open and she lifted her face. It was a ghastly sight as the right side of her face was a forgotten mass of tissue and blood. A man dressed in all black, walked in. His face was emotionless and cruel. She whimpered "please... I'm begging you. Please, let me go. I have a grandma and a son to look after. Please."He smiled, the shadow he stood in protected him from her words. "Really? Are you sure about that? What's the consequence of lying?" He asked. "Why are you doing this?!""Because, my dear, I have a plan and it's working just as I've pla

                       Becca's POV ROSES ARE RED, BLOOD IS REDDERSHE DIDN'T  KNOW IT, BUT HE GOT BETTER. For the doctors, it was relief I didn't die. For my mom, she kept on sobbing. For me, it was a disaster. How could I come back to everything?I had been deemed unstable, so the police had been shooed out of my room. Leaving me alone with my thoughts, memories and pain. He came back sweating, covered in blood. I knew he had done something bad, something wrong. I tried to believe that it was ketchup but I knew better. He grabbed my arm roughly and half dragged, half carried through the door. I didn't have it in me to scream. I was too tired and I suspected I had a fever. He dragged me through a series of left s and rights I immediately forgot when I saw them. My hopes sank and I knew I coul