Яosa Яomano . d10 . wip

R O S A .

"I hate you! I hate I hate ihateyouihateyou!" She screams, the hilt of the blade tucked tightly in a shaking hand. Her mother lay on the ground to the right, face blossoming with a bruise. Eyes shut. Unconscious. "I-I won't- I can't let you touch her again," tears well in her eyes, her free hand fisted tightly at her side. Rage and hatred surged through her blood, setting it on fire. She could barely hear the words he desperately mutter, his breath stinking of booze.

She hated him.

A growl behind her and she turns to see Gunner, shackles raised as he moves to stand beside her. He was a giant, usually a huge friendly ball of fluff that would want nothing more than a satisfying belly rub. But sensing her distress he bares his teeth at her father, his growls becoming more ferocious. "Rosa call your mutt off," my father cries, backing up until his back is against the wall.

Rosa doesn't, the knife in her hand unsteady in her shaking grasps.

He would like that, wouldn't he? For her to call gunner off, for her to drop her unsteady knife. For her to pretend, once again, that he had done nothing wrong.

Her hand tightens, her grip becoming more solid. She was done backing down from him. Gunner, sensing the way her anger seemed to grow, unless another snarl, teeth so close to her father now. If Gunner had been one of the small dogs on the farm he might had grabbed his neck, in attempt to break it. But Gunner was huge, he was almost the size of one of those mixture horses that they neighbours have grazing in the fields.

He was dangerous. Lethal. And right now his teeth were so close to ripping that pathetic look off her fathers face.

"Enough of this madness," he pleas, licking his lips nervously.

"You're right," she whispers, feeling any reservations she had about taking his life slip free. She should feel remorse about wanting to kill him. She should feel guilt, after all he was her father. But, despite herself, the longer she stood clutching the knife, the look of pathetic pleading plastered to his face, she felt sick satisfaction. Satisfaction that she would be relieving this world of one more piece of scum. "You're right," she says again, moving so that Gunner's leg brushed against her shoulder as she kneeled before him, the tip of her knife pressing into his chin. "Enough is enough."


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