The werewolf-calling moon illuminated the pathway towards the cracked and paint peeled grave. Its sole purpose stood in highlighting the gravestone with blood red poppy’s sprouting from the years old paved soil. Naked branched reached out to her; trees danced and twisted as Lucy glided past them. Their cruel faces snickering at her passing numb form. Mist cascades through her legs, unaware of her presence.
Reaching the welcoming cold grave she laid down staring at the moon. Slowly she could feel the dirt entering her body the moon but a distant memory. Lucy’s spirit connected with her rotting corpse.
“This isn’t over,” her murdered growled besides her, invading the only place where she could be at peace. His milky gray eyes glared at her.
* * *
“Why are you doing this?” the girl’s whimpering voice reached his ears, sending a pleasant chill down his spine and back up again. He loved how easily they allowed him to dominate them, how weak they were. It’s part of the game. Sadly once they became submissive all the fun was over and he had to kill them. Why waste his time? There were millions of girls wanting his attention, just like the one cowering in the corner of the room, handcuffs chaining her to her dusty twin bed.
So truly it wasn’t his fault. No, it was theirs. With their eyes lusting after him, batting their eyelashes to get his attention. Well what’s a man to do? Instincts before brains he always told himself. Why use your intellect if they always ignored you? But once you let the instinct take over, he grinned: they run to you like flies.
That is how he had found the beauty cowering away from him. Driving down a suburban road he heard a couple girls laughing together. They were at the park, swinging to the open skies on their individual swing sets. He had gotten out of the car then; the scent of their sweet perfume enticed his senses to the point of insanity.

But one in particular wanted him. It was destiny. He knew it. She even had the short shoulder hair length he adored as well as blue eyes against auburn hair. She was perfect. Absolutely perfect. And when she looked at him, smiling and laughing like a flower in summertime, he fell utterly in love with her. Destiny.

He had to have her! So that night he went to her two story house, a white fence wrapped with vines squared off the front lawn. Even Destiny’s house was perfect. Earlier in the day he had hidden behind a tree (when the girls weren’t looking) staring at her maturing form, overhearing their conversation: she was home all alone. The good Lord blessed their encounter.

Ringing the doorbell he waited for thirty seconds, butterflies fluttering around his stomach. He heard shuffling feet and then the door opened. It was as if heaven itself opened its arms to him. She stood there, eyes inviting him to her perfect world. She wanted him as much as he wanted her.

“Yes?” her honeyed voice was even sweeter closer by.
Wiping his sweaty palm on his blue jeans he spoke, “are your parents home?”

“No, but I can take a message if you would like,” her pink plump lips pursed as she spoke. Oh yes, he was one hundred percent sure she wanted him.

“Do you know when they’ll be coming back by any chance?”

“In a couple days. Who are you again?” her voice hardened.

“A friend of theirs.” Doubt filled her eyes.

She backed up a bit, the door now less wide. She was doing what all the others did: shutting him out after he so openly gave his heart to them. They were all the same. Anger flourished in dark patches of flame inside him. He had thought Destiny different. Liar. She was a liar and didn’t deserve him. But if he wasn’t going to have her then no one was.

And that is how she now belonged to him. A year had passed since then with multiple television appearances from her parents begging for their daughter. Their sobbing voices thrilled him. Perhaps if she hadn’t been so cruel and conniving nothing would have happened to her but she had asked— no, pleaded for it. Be before she crushed his heart in infinite shards.

“Why me?” She’s asked him this question for the millionth time now and he was sick of it. He also had many “Why” questions but his were never answered. So why should hers? She no longer held a special place in his injured heart.

That night he came home drunk— in love. He found her, this time it was real. The goddess of all goddesses‘. The liar scurried under the covers, waiting for him. Not that he cared anymore, he found the one. She would make this ugly world shine like a galaxy full of starts.

One problem remained. Goddess would not feel comfortable with this filth living with them. An idea bloomed in his mind. She had to go. Towering over the bed he forcefully removed the covers and threw them across the room. Her frightened eyes prayed for his forgiveness but no amount of it could save her now. He had given her the chance long ago and stomped on it. This moment signified the bitter end for a new beginning.
* * *
Lucy doesn’t remember, or better yet she doesn’t wish to know how she ended up in that awful hole or how long she had been in there: days, weeks, years maybe decades. It doesn’t matter anymore she supposed; all that mattered now was vendetta. Those earth shattering few moments may have been lost to her in the sea that remained her brain but the rest of it was as clear as night and day. That twisted bastard who did this to her would get what he deserved.

Somehow her spirit knew where to find him: past the numerous graves with trapped ghosts smirking at her, out the rusting iron gate, down the street and there stood her nightmare. When she saw the ranch house she nearly collapsed to the floor. Lost memories flooded to her brain at ones, making her lose her senses. Hissing she shook her head, wanting to get rid of the demonic images.

Animated pictures of her mother discovering her body in a heap on the front porch. Anguished cries from everyone she ever loved, then they placed her body inside a coffin. It had been so cold and lonley…lonely and terrifying.

A frightened sound brought her back to her earth shattering reality. Turning her head to where her bed lay sat a girl crying herself to sleep. Her hiccups filled the room. Lucy could see the raw skin where the handcuffs scraped her. Shock turned into anger and anger turned the kind of hatred that laced one in Dante’s ninth level of hell.

A dark energy appeared from behind, black as the dead of night. She didn’t have to glance back to know who it was. Before she could prevent it he walked through her, it was an invasion of her body unlike any other. If she could have vomited she would have done it right there and then with hatred roaming her body.

Everything happened in an instant: really she reacted before her brain could process the most insignificant of things. His evil heart was in her hand, her vengeful spirit tasting the essential life flowing through his undeserving body. Then she squeezed: every horrid stain he had left on her body, every punishment she had withstood, every ounce of anger and loathing she had locked tonight inside herself exploded in bright lights…