chapter 1

Beginning

Dear Diary.

Let me introduce myself. My name is Erica Moon and I'm 16 years old. I'm half blonde ordinary girl on one and 62. I have a mother named Emma and a father who was called Johnnes. I do not know who he was because he was stuck when he learned that the mother was pregnant. A month ago changed my life, mother married a man named Christopher. In the beginning, he was fantastic, his mother was happy so why would I stop them to get married? Now, I know the answer. because he always whispers behind me, because he is in my nightmares when he carries on an old coat and fangs, that he is a fake disgusting murderer. I vote from the darkness, they warn me to him, but why me? Why?

疼痛

It was two o'clock in the morning on a Saturday night. I should not take the risk but I was hungry, I had not eaten since this morning. Mute, I took my way to the front door. Now came the big challenge. Slowly I took out the little box dressed in cotton and tried to prevent that from klirret småmynten and keys. Slowly I put the key in the lock and groaned inwardly at the sound of a key and entering a lock seemed to scream through the silent night. I opened the door and gave away a whining. I closed my eyes and swore inwardly of frustration that neither of the door lock, or wish to cooperate with me. I closed the door and almost cheered by the fact that it slipped quietly again, without a sound. I began to breathe in small shallow breaths and leaned lightly on his knees and began to slowly creep to the kitchen. In the kitchen, it was pitch black. I did not even see your hand in front of me. I slipped at the wall and felt the end white refrigerator cold metal against my sweaty palm. I felt up to the small yellow handle of plastic and gently opened. Refrigerator cold air and the yellow lights made me jerk but I quickly downloaded. I tore at me a half-rotten lettuce and a bottle of soda halvdrucken. I closed the door gently and stole out of the kitchen again. I felt happy. I had managed to take me into my own home and got hold of reasonably edible food and was heading out to the safe zone outside. I stood abruptly and felt my JOY fade away and replaced with ice-cold horror. Christopher was leaning against the front door. I dropped the lettuce heads and rolled and stopped at his feet. He smiled. Christopher took two quick steps toward me and grabbed my hair. He reeked of alcohol. His grip tightened. Christopher opened the door to my old girl's room and pushed me. He locked the door. Then he turned to me and took out my old riding crop. How could I be so stupid? How many times have I failed? How many times would it take before I learned? How could I be so stupid? The first blow hit my face and I collapsed into a heap on the floor. I closed my eyes and felt the tears started running down my cheeks. I brought a hand to protect my face against his punches, kicks and whip lashes and fake that I was, I felt the hatred that is not burned more than what his kind did, that I wished he was dead.