𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍 𝖜𝖎𝖘𝖍•𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘦

𝓬𝓸𝓵𝓭 𝓷𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽𝓼

ON COLD NIGHTS like these, young Ivy Hades spent the frigid night clutching unto her blanket unto dear life- praying, for her mother to come home sooner.

Her black pupils side with fear, knowing that any second her mother could die. Ivy had thanatophobia- the fear of dying or her loved ones dying. In Ivy's case, it was only her mother and her.

Ivy knew that her dad had been brutally ran over when she was barely two- it was on her birthday, how could Ivy ever forget that.

Ivy shivered, pulling up the cover up to her chin, her teeth chattering softly in comparison to the loud thumping in her heart. Fluttering her eyes shut, Ivy tried to imagine a cozy fire in the fireplace- all to make her seem like she was warmer.

But Ivy wasn't fooling herself, so she opened her eyes again to stare at the old wooden door.

To say Ivy didn't live in the coziest of homes was true, very much so. Ivy lived in a one-room house, one bathroom, small living room space & the tiniest kitchen she had ever seen.

Ivy's mother worked long hours just to get the basic necessities in their life. All of Ivy's clothes were from donations. Her mother struggled every single month to pay the bills, and quite more the times she liked to admit- hadn't had enough money and they would end up without fresh water, or electricity.

The doorknob twisted, rattling harshly- as if somebody were trying to desperately make it in.

Ivy shot up from the bed, a fearful expression covering her features- this wasn't her mother. Whoever this person was, was not her mother, it couldn't be.

Ivy quickly crept to the side- having all the creaky tiles of the house memorized by heart. True, Ivy was paranoid- but she would always rather be paranoid than dead.

She shivered once more, regretting leaving the cozy bed, but once the doorknob rattled again Ivy continued on to the kitchen.

Quietly, Ivy opened the drawer and pulled out the largest knife she could find. Ivy's small hands trembled in utter terror as she heard the next words coming from the other side of the door.

"Listen, kid, we know you're in there." Ivy froze, the man's voice gruff and menacing. "and we have your mom."

Ivy felt her heart drop to the floor. She shook her head frantically, no that couldn't be! Her mother was on her way home- safe and sou-

"IVY! DON'T OPEN THE DOOR! PLEASE WHATEVER YOU DO DONT OPEN-" A sickening crunch was heard, as Ivy heard loud laughter from two other unrecognizable people.

"Let's just leave her, we've had our fun with her mom anyway." one of the men said, his voice nonchalant- but the other two persisted.

As they talked amongst themselves Ivy found herself feeling different.

Ivy found the churning feeling of absolute fear suddenly vanish, few worries- vanish, the only thing remaining was... nothing.

Seven-year-old Ivy had nothing left. Absolutely nothing. Those sick bastards took everything away from her. So, instead of hiding in the small closet, Ivy stepped forward to the door.

Ivy breathed in and out carefully as she unlocked the door, hiding the knife in the back pocket of her terribly worn jeans.

"You killed her." Ivy's soft voice startled the men, but what started them when more was the emotion lacking in her voice. Ivy's face was devoid of emotion, her once lively eyes were now a dull black.

The three men looked at each other, then huddles together- but it was too late. Ivy had seen it.

The body of her dead mother. Her clothes mostly gone, only some shreds remained. Bruises covered her once pale skin, blood all over her body, but the most horrifying thing was her face, once so beautiful- frozen into a scream forever.

Ivy trembled, but not in fear, but in rage.

The three men mistook this, and Ivy used it to her advantage. "I'm scared, is mommy sleeping?" Her voice sounded childish and angelic, shocking the three men again.

"Can I have a hug? Mommy always gives me hugs when I'm scared." Ivy pleaded, tears at the corner of her eyes- but they weren't real.

One of the men stepped up to her and kneeled down to the seven-year-old. He had a blue shirt, with blood splatters, and white khakis- also stained with blood.

But Ivy didn't mind the smell of iron anymore, because she knew now- that she was going to live with it all her life. All of it.

"Of course sweetie pie." He extended his arms, enveloping Ivy in a right hug.

Ivy put on of her arms on his neck, before slowly pulling out the knife from her pocket. "My mommy also said something else," Ivy whispered to his ear softly.

"she told me not to kill anybody, so can you tell her that I'm sorry if you ever see her?" he froze.

And before he could act, Ivy brought the knife down on his neck repeatedly- ignoring the blood squirting everywhere. "nevermind you won't see her!" Ivy's voice was filled with rage, her eyes crazed as she kept stabbing until he slumped over.

Ivy met eyes with the other two men, who were beginning to retreat. She snarled, before taking after both of them. Her lungs burned, her chest heaved- but Ivys rage fueled her on, so when the two separated on streets she took after the one with the red flannel.

Ivy let out a scream of fury, as she caught up to him- and she- without thinking twice, tackled him to the ground. The man heaved out, and tried pleading for her life, but Ivys face remained the same.

"You didn't give my mom mercy, so why should I? She was all I had. You sick bastards! Go to hell!" Ivy brought down her blood coated knife hard into his chest.

The man screamed in agony, as she desperately tried to move, but Ivy shoved the knife in deeper into his chest.

"You will go to hell for killing somebody."

Ivy stopped and took out the knife.

"True, but I won't go without murdering you, your friend- and everything you love- and everything they love. Say hi to your friend for me?" Ivy emotionlessly responded, before bringing the knife down on his heart.