Her hand brushes the inside of her thigh where rough lines are a silent testimony to her only form of control. On the ledge is a fine razor she uses to mark another tragedy. Rivulets of red give her a visual confirmation of the pain she can't feel, a small release she hopes will be satisfied someday.

Light chiming alerts her to the front door opening. The doll! She scrambles out of the shower and slips on the cold, hard tile. She's air born and in her haste, she lands flat on her back, then scrambles on all fours to hide the doll. She can't be sloppy like this.

"Arii?"

Her father is home. "Just a minute," she slides into a pair of nanolon pants and scrambles for a shirt.

"I'm coming in!" Of course, he is. Pastor Ken called him, she is sure. Then she remembers her mother is dead. Tears well up involuntarily. They are real, a testament to the fact she was abandoned at birth. No matter it was an accident, or so she had been told. Her mother died in child birth and her unmarked grave is located somewhere on Sincross. The door slams open and she is barely dressed.

"Dad!" He's unmoved.

"Pack a bag, my flight leaves in an hour and you're coming with me." She has research to do, new spells to work on, and now this? She doesn't argue. She deserves it. A wave of guilt washes over her at the thought of the doll, but he seems oblivious. "What in the world were you thinking?" he says.

"She started it, and I had to teach her a lesson or every skank at school would see me as an easy mark." Both hands are on his hips, so she shifts tactics. "You told me to defend myself." He softens a bit.

"You're still coming with me, I can't trust you alone."

When he's gone, she shoves the doll back in the box, bending the neck sideways to make it fit. The needle tears at the stomach but remains lodged where she left it. She pulls down her pants and applies some nano-biotic lotion, a perfect recipe to heal but not fully remove the scars she keeps as trophies.

She knows cutting herself is wrong. She's read all the reports and knows it's a sign a girl is covering up deeper trauma, but she doesn't care. It's the one thing in her life she really controls, and she will stop when she finds out who killed her mother.

Please remember to vote!

Comments are welcome!