Knight's Salvation (Knight Series Book 2) by Darren Deegan

Author:Darren Deegan [Deegan, Darren]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-04-20T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

"Becca? Can you hear me? Wake up," said a familiar voice, bringing me out of a deep sleep. "There you are. How are you feeling?"

With my eyes now open as wide as they could be in my exhausted state, I could see Helen's worried face looking down on me. I was in a hospital room, but I could barely remember how I'd gotten there. The last thing I could remember was making it to the main street after killing Steve.

The entire incident flashed through my mind and I could feel the pain of the knife piercing my shoulder and see the look on his face as I drove the same knife up through his chin. It had been an exhausting day but my mind was still racing, all of the pain and torture inflicted by Steve just kept bringing my mind back to my past.

It reminded me of the long, painful days of my youth. I never knew my parents. My mom died giving birth to me, and my dad didn’t stay around long enough to see me born. I had been raised by my grandfather. He did his best and loved me in his own way, but his was a tough love, the kind he knew from a long sorrowful life, full of hardships and suffering.

There’s a lot of my childhood I like to forget, things I’ve seen and done, horrors that the mind could scarcely imagine. But the beginning of it all, the day my life changed for the worst, that day I’ll never forget.

I was six years old, and not a care in the world, but I had made the mistake of being more popular than the queen bee living on my street. Being new to the neighborhood, the other children flocked to me, which drew them away from the attention whore that liked to think she controlled them.

Months had gone by and I had yet to lose the attention of the other children in my neighborhood, even the queen bee was pretending to by my friend. I guess at some point it became too much for her, and she began to plot against me. At that age, I knew nothing of this and thinking back on it, I often wonder how a seven-year-old girl could be so malicious. I’ve fought people in war that didn’t have her killer instinct. She was a budding sociopath to be sure.

Unable to hurt me herself, or for fear of losing the people that liked me, she enlisted the help of some local older boys. As luck would have it, the boys were led by someone that looked like he’d been fed steroids since he was in diapers. These boys lived for violence, bred on it, they only knew how to inflict pain and prey on the weak. “Bully” is a term that couldn’t possibly describe them. No. They were savages. Primal creatures that hunted their prey, and hunt they did.

The day everything changed started out like any other. It was the summer; I was off school and outside playing with my friends.

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