House of Evil

Kara Foley wandered aimlessly up a dark and lonely street in one of the worst neighborhoods in the city. The structures were less houses and more shacks. This is a no man's land where few outsiders dare to venture during the day and certainly not at night. A wind-swept ghetto littered with vacant trashed-filled plots alongside one burnt-out shack after the other. As Kara passes ghostly squatters peeking out from dark doorways and windows like ghosts in a haunted house exhibit they could smell the blood in the water, another victim to be swallowed whole by this urban wasteland.

Kara could feel them watching, She pauses and looks around. She has no idea where she is going, and frankly, it doesn't matter. What she does know is that she isn't going back there. She couldn't. Small even for fourteen with short dark hair, and sad limpid eyes wearing an oversized parka the only possession she had left from the woman that abandoned her. The woman that crept away like a thief in the night The woman she once called mom. Under the coat, Kara wore a thin thread-worn nightgown. She was hurting badly and trying hard not to cry which only serve to push her onward. Her pain was her fuel. Her privates were burning and throbbing like someone had set a blow torch on them. The pain threaten to make her vomit, she doubled over clutching her sour stomach and dry heaved.

After a few minutes, she pulled herself together and continued down the road. She looked around and smiled, her spirits buoyed by the fact that she had never made it this far before. It was truly amazing considering the neighborhood she was in. It was just another example of God's cruel sense of humor. Her smile faded. Her good fortune wouldn't last. It never did. The moment she start to let herself believe that she was home free. Cookie, the neighborhood meth addict and rapist was going to burst from the shadows and she'd be done for.

What could she have done at fourteen to warrant this? Life for a fourteen-year-old girl wasn't supposed to be this hard. Maybe she was already dead and just didn't know it. Maybe God had saved her and she just hadn't realized it yet, God does work in mysterious ways. She smiled a crooked little smile, the thought of death warmed her.

The more she thought about it the more convinced she became that she was dead and had nothing to fear. Dead or not she was getting tired and needed to find a place to sit down for a rest. She wandered up the block until she came upon an old truck tire lying against the curb. This would do just fine she thought as she managed with a little struggle to get it to lay flat.

She winced as she eased her narrow butt down on the tire. She was still alive, the pain told her so. Tears of disappointment welled in her eyes. She forced them back, now was not the time for tears. She wouldn't cry, she never cried. She had endured much and what she learned was crying never helped, in fact, it only made things worse. She had learned long ago that crying would not stop him, it only turned him on. He would grab her by her bony shoulders and shake her until she thought her head might pop off.

"Shut up you little bitch. You're breaking my concentration." Then BAM, like a rocket, his hand would slam down against her face, causing her to see stars. Crying made things worse no doubt about it

So, she would lay there staring vacant-eyed at the ceiling without making a sound no matter what imagining exotic places she could escape to while he grunted and slobbered over her. When he finished he would roll off already half asleep, farting, and belching, and that would be it.

She would wait until she was certain he was asleep then slip off the mattress and go back to her room hurting and sometimes bleeding. Only then in the confines of the cold and lonely darkness did she allow herself a silent cry. Tonight had been especially bad and as much as she had endured she knew she would not survive another night like this. So she...