Prologue

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^^^Just a fun character aesthetic I made for the MC^^^

The little girl ran as fast as her short legs could carry her. Her chest ached with a pain so great she could barely breathe. Her legs were screaming, begging her to stop and allow herself a moments rest, but the girl never gave in. 

She needed to get away. He was after her and wouldn't stop until she payed for what he accused her of. She knew it wasn't her fault, but he refused to believe that. He refused to believe anything that came out of the girl's mouth. 

Her mother had been sick for weeks. It had all started when the girl saw her mother coughing up blood into the sink. The girl had begun to scream, the sight of the thick, red substance bringing her memories to the forefront with a sickening tenacity. Her mother had held her close as she trembled in fear, attempting to escape those nights. When her father caught sight of her mother's blood, he demanded that her mother be put on bedrest with no visitors, including her daughter. 

The girl had cried herself to sleep that night. Especially after her father had dragged her to the Refuge and left her to sleep in a dark, empty room that smelled like something had died in it, giving her nothing more than a rag that was covered in dried blood and had holes in it, no doubt due to the rats that infested the building, to shelter herself from the biting cold of the midwinter night. 

Everything from then on went downhill. 

Her mother was only getting worse, and the one night the girl had snuck in to see her mother, her father had caught her and beat her until she couldn't stand. It probably hadn't helped things that the girl had challenged her father halfway through, but she didn't understand why she couldn't see her mother. 

"Because you're the one killin' her!" Her father had screamed in reply. 

That had been months ago. Today was the day her mother had finally left the horrid world that she inhabited and when the girl found out, she did the first thing that she could think of: she ran. 

Her father was bloodthirsty, crooked, and blamed everyone for his mistakes. The girl knew the truth. Her mother spent as many nights as she could whispering it in her ears. 

"I love you," she would say. "And when I leave, know it's not you're fault. It's his. You have to stay strong, my girl. Stay strong for me."

Yes, her father had been slowly killing her mother. With each beating he gave her, she grew weaker and weaker until she couldn't fight any longer. 

That was one of the reasons the girl hated her father with everything in her. He made people suffer, and didn't care what happened to them because of it. 

So she ran and ran and ran, but there was no escaping him, for when a bloodthirsty man is chasing you, there are few things you can do to escape, and the girl knew none of them. 

When he finally caught her, he made sure she would never forget his mistakes. Each strike branded not just her body, but her mind too. 

It was in that moment she decided that she wasn't going to let her father keep the power he possessed. 

It was in that moment she knew that he was going to pay.

It was in that moment she was determined to save everyone from the evil man she once called her father.

It was in that moment that she decided to be her own hero. 

And it was in that moment that she knew she would never call herself a Snyder again. 


Ephesians 6:4- Fathers, do not provoke your children to anger, but bring them up in the discipline and instruction of the Lord. 

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