A gust of wind forced Dawn to roll up the passenger window. Her long black hair was frizzed and desperately needed to be brushed. Dawn was one of those girls you could look at and just not stop. Tall and skinny, with long black hair, she was all around beautiful. Her father, Gregory Hallway, was tall, extremely tall, and just as wide. Every worker at MC Donald knew to supersize his orders without asking. Add his size and otherwise unattractive appearance with his white-blonde hair; he was the total opposite of his daughter. Dawn drummed her long slender fingers against the window, and her father glanced at her. “Before you ask,” said Dawn. “I’m just fine.” She read her father’s mind like a book. “By now I am used to moving.” Dawn adjusted herself in her seat and propped her feet up on the dashboard. “I’ve given up hoping that each time will be different.” “It comforts me to know that my daughter has such strong faith in her father,” said Gregory. “Stop pretending,” said Dawn. “We both know I am adopted.” “Right,” growled Gregory. “How could someone as fat and ugly as me give birth to someone as skinny and perfect as you.” “You’re so, emo.” Dawn rolled her eyes and turned so that she was facing only the window. “Maybe I should start wearing my hair in a choppy way, oh and wear nothing but black, chains, and spikes.” Gregory steered the car into the driveway of a large Victorian style house. It was hard to see in the thick blackness of night, but the house was painted a deep read, with a deep blue trim. The house’s well maintained yard was wet, as the automatic sprinklers had just turned off. Dawn got out of the car and ran ahead to the front door. The cold night air fogged her breath each time she exhaled. Dawn reached into her pocket and pulled out the duplicate house keys her father gave her. However, unlocking the door was unnecessary, as it swung open on its own accord. Dawn thought nothing of it and stepped inside, kicking aside a small torn scrap of jean fabric, which slid over to a nail that was sticking out from the doorframe. The house was furnished, though it was not in any particular order or arrangement. The movers had only been paid to bring the furniture into the house, not to organize it. “Dawn,” called Gregory. “Come get your stuff from the back of the car.” Dawn poked her head out the front door. “I’ll get it in the morning.” “You’ll get it now.” “WHATEVER!” Dawn stormed from the house and yanked her bag from the car, nearly hitting her father. “There, happy?” She could feel her father’s scalding glare as she stomped her way back into the house. It wasn’t hard for her to find her room. As big as the house was there were only two rooms occupying the second floor, and both were extremely large bedrooms. Every house they had had in the past were just as big and always filled with luxury antique furniture. Gregory Hallway worked for a high-end banking firm. It was not money problems that constantly had Dawn and him moving, but his job as the company’s Executive Banker. It was a thankless job full of nothing but stress, but the pay kept Gregory in the company’s pocket. Dawn closed her bedroom door and tossed her bag into the nearest corner. The bright pink furniture and the furniture, carved with flowers and fairies, reeked of a girl’s room. Moving to the bed, Dawn looked down at her sheets and sighed. They were pastel pink with lace trimmings. “I’m a girl, not a, girl.” She said the last part with a high pick squeak. “The man doesn’t know his own daughter.” Tossing aside a small red rose, which had been left sitting on her pillow, she laid down and stretched out. While it wasn’t her style the bed itself was extremely comfortable. After pulling up her covers, which had been neatly folding at the foot of her bed, Dawn had no problems falling fast asleep. She woke to streams of light seeping through her window and the distinct smell of musky cologne. A loud knock came at her bedroom door, followed by the sound of her father’s voice. “Dawn, I left breakfast for you in the kitchen. I have to leave early for the office. I probably won’t be back until real late.” “Whatever,” groaned Dawn. She sat up and listened as her father’s footsteps softened. “Breakfast!” She huffed and laughed to herself. “He probably meant that het set out some cereal.” She moved to her closet and pulled some clothes out of an unpacked box, not bothering to make sure they matched. Trading her last night’s clothes for clean jeans and a printed black shirt, which had a purple skull on it, she stretched. It was a long, drawn out stretch full of popping joints and yawns. After a couple more morning routines, checking hair, scrubbing face, and a few more stretches, Dawn headed downstairs and into the kitchen. Some eggs and sausages, which by then were cold, sat on a plate, a note placed in front of it. Dawn picked up the note and examined the perfectly written cursive writing. “You don’t know how much I love you,” read Dawn. “Sure you do dad.” She tossed the note aside and ignored the breakfast her father had made her and moved to the fridge. Held up by a magnet was a list of chores her father had left her, written scratchily in smeared ink. A bang at the back door drew her attention away from her growling stomach. Without hesitation she proceeded to see what caused it. Opening the door to the backyard, she looked around. The grass was perfectly trimmed and a flowerbed lined the fence. Crushing a couple of the tulips was a large polished rock. Dawn walked over and picked it up. Swirling with brown and gold, it sparkled slightly and had a heart carved delicately onto its surface. She heard some shuffling on the other side of the fence and glared. “HAY, JERK!” shouted Dawn. “YOU LOST SOMETHING!” With every once of strength she could muster she threw the stone over the tall wood fence. It landed with a thud, but no one replied. “Watch where you throw your shit next time.” Dawn headed back into the house and made her way into the living room. Falling back onto the couch she grabbed the remote, turned on the TV, and began to channel surf. The volume was up too loud for Dawn to hear the front door open and close. Footsteps shuffled from the entryway to the couch. If Dawn had looked up just then she would have seen a tall man in his early twenties. With short blonde hair and an extremely lanky frame. He was wearing a shirt, with a picture of Dawn printed on it, and a pair of jeans, which were torn at the bottom. “I love you, Dawn,” said the man. Dawn looked over and screamed. She nearly fell off the couch as she scrambled to back away. “Who are you? How did you get in here?” asked Dawn, frantically. The man took a couple steps forward. “I got in the same way I did last night,” answered the man. “Did you get the rose I left you?” “What do you want with me?” “I want to be with you.” He reached out his long arm and grabbed her. “I want to wake up every morning and see your beautiful face.” Dawn struggled to get free of his grip. “Please, let me go,” said Dawn, through frightened tears and a shaky voice. “Come with me, Dawn. Runaway with me,” said the man. He pulled her to him, and she kneed him as hard as she could. He doubled over, and she ran. In the house were only two phones, one in her father’s private office, and one in the kitchen. Heading away from him, she made her way to her father’s office. It wasn’t locked so the door swung open with ease. She rushed to her father’s desk and grabbed the phone. Picking it up she listened, but no dial tone could be heard. Quickly she followed the phone’s wire and discovered that is had been cut. “SHIT!” shouted Dawn. The man appeared in the doorway, clutching the side that Dawn’s knee had made contact with. “If I can’t have,” he started, “no one can.” Dawn noticed a large knife gripped tightly in his left hand, as he inched toward her. “Please, don’t,” pleaded Dawn. She tried desperately to make the distance from them desk to the door, but failed and was greeted sharply by the man and his knife. When Gregory arrived home he found no signs off his daughter, or the struggle that had occurred while he was gone. A freshly dug spot in the backyard would turn up nothing but a bloody knife and some blood stained clothes, belonging to Dawn’s admirer. Everything had been cleaned and smelled strongly of bleach and an assortment of other chemicals, not a single trace was left behind. Dawn and the man were simply, gone.
Posted on: Wed, 18 Sep 2013 21:06:29 +0000
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