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Closer
“Don’t you are come any closer!” she screamed in terror.
As the rain ponded down on the metal roof, Ava sat in the corner and stared at the blank wall hoping he wouldn’t find her. She had just run away from her father. He was drunk again and she couldn’t face the pain anymore. She was excused. She had no friends, was behind in school, and had to deal with her mentally and physically abusive father at night. Well at least the nights he wasn’t at the bar drinking.
This was finally the night she had the courage to leave. She had to get out before he killed her. She had dreamed of this night for far too long. She knew where she was going to go. There was an old abandoned shack across from her school that she has slowly been bringing her belongings to. She had enough money saved for food and she could still go to school and nobody would notice that anything is different. Not like they noticed her anyways.
Her dad had come home that night drunk. Like always. She was in her room and she knew that it was time for her to stand up to him and leave. She grabbed the last of her stuff and slowly started to walk down the stairs. She knew this wouldn’t go well at all.
“Where do you think, you’re going. Its past your curfew!” he yelled as he brought his hand up to hit her. But before he could she grabbed his arm and twisted it backwards and pulled it until she heard a pop, causing him to drop and break his bear bottle. She couldn’t believe she had just done that. She let go of him, causing him to fall to the floor, and just stared at him. She knew she had to get out but for some reason her mind was running as fat as it could but her legs weren’t moving. She knew that this was a bad idea, and she had a gut feeling that this was going to be the night that her dad would kill her.
She snapped out of her thoughts and quickly realized what was happening. Her father was still laying on the floor cut by the broken glass from his beer bottle that he had broken. She knew that at this point the only way she was going to get out alive would be to kill him. She ran upstairs to where he kept his gun shaking and crying. She came back down and kept the gun behind her back. She saw her father standing there with a gash on his head and holding his arm in pain.
He slowly started walking slowly toward her and came to a stop right in front of her face. He slapped her, but she didn’t cry this time. She simply stepped back and glared at him. He stared coming toward her again and she knew it was time.
“Don’t come any closer!” she yelled in terror as she pulled out the gun from behind her back. Tears where rushing down her face and her hand was shaking as she tried to steady the gun. She fired. She fired three shots to ensure that he was dead.
She broke down and didn’t know what to do next. Somebody would find out and she would go to jail. At that moment in time she couldn’t help but smile at the fact that he was dead. She finished bringing all her things outside. She found a match and gasoline and lit it up in every room. She grabbed her stuff and never looked back. She went to the shack and lived her life. Nobody ever found out. Nobody ever even expected it to be a murder. She never regretted a thing.
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