*NOT A RANT*

Dark and endless, the room seems. I am but six, and on my knees. My father has decided to whip me. For what? I am not aware but I can only say that I am very sorry for I am a dirty girl. 

Dirty girl, dirty girl. The phrase repeats itself in my head like a mantra. Dirty girl, dirty girl, lift your arms and spin. These memories were once just jagged puzzle pieces but ever since the death of my father, more of my memory has returned. I only look downwards on this lone walk of mine. I am on the road to my father's house; the very place where I was held and bound for months at a time. 

I cannot bear to see it once more, but I must to take what is rightfully mine. My eyes trace the cracks in the sidewalk and I gaze at the beauty that autumn has brought. The leaves have turned golden and red and fall slowly to the ground, twisting this way and that. Quit stalling, my mind seems to say. 

I widen my strides and stare upon the steps made of stone. Fear and pain, fear and pain, the whip cracks at my back, a searing flash of pain. I shudder at the memory and continue up the steps. I stare upwards and at my darkest fear- the house. It has changed since I was there last, the knobs are no longer shiny bronze but have become rusted spheres. Spiderwebs hang across the windows like shrouds; the house has a morbid aura about it, like it cannot hide what once happened. 

I reach towards the knob and tug; the house feels welcoming inside. My heart starts to constrict, breathe in, breathe out, I tell myself. The house is sheathed in a layer of dust and groans as I walk across the floorboards. He tugs at my hair, "Dirty girl, you're daddy's little dancer, point your toes, dirty girl!" 

I remember the dances he made me do. Jazz and classical and his favorite, ballet. All I wanted to do was make him proud but if I ever messed up, his vengeance came at me like a hurling spear; in seconds I was on the ground and struggling. I walk into my old room and my heart starts to beat faster. The memories struggle to fix themselves, my mind is overcome by all of my thoughts. 

I hear a creak behind me and turn around quickly. I can only see his teeth that glisten in the darkness. 

 "Dad...?" I call out. 

"My dirty girl," the creature says as his smile widens. He has something in his hand, it glints as steps towards me. 

"you're not... dead?"

He makes a noise with his lips and takes another step towards me. I inch backwards towards the wall and press myself against it. "No, I am quite alive. Don't you think so?"

The last thing I see is an object swinging towards me and I feel nothing but pain and something sticky sliding downwards. I slu- 

"My dirty girl is dead." 

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