proluge

Proluge

April 1st 1989

5 years ago, I stared hard at the lifeless body lying in his pool of blood with his forehead ripped apart in front of me. My eyes were pregnant with tears.

June 10, a day I'll never forget. The day my father was murdered, I was ten but dangerous. I leapt forward and stopped when I was one meter away from the body.

I was choking on my breath, my legs wobbled and my knees find theirselves on the hard floor. I slowly raised the tips of my trembling fingers and dipped it inside the sprawling blood.

I have a taste of the blood, as i rolled my tongue out and licked the blood off, the vein in my heart clenched.

The room was filled with silence expect for my weak wailing which was only audible to my ear. The only thing ringing in my ears was to seek revenge. And I'd swore that I'm going to avenge him; my father, come what years.

Come what years, it must be June ten. The day I'll have to kill him, the killer of my father.

Currently, I've the opportunity to strike him but unfortunately, today is April 1st. I'll keep waiting until...

My name is Angelina Trump, a sex maniac and a stripper. That's my profession. "Oh yeah, bring it on, call me slut. I love that. Harder!"