I Love You Daddy

Revenge is oh so sweet... Girls have no say in our culture. Men control the world that we live in. The only ones that can exact our revenge are the ones who come back. The ones that show that the dead don't always stay that way.
(For the 'Coldest Girl In Coldtown' competition)


2. Chapter One

"I won't marry him papa! You can't make me!" I scowled at my father, Quinn.

Hatred burned within me, boiling my blood until I was a raging inferno.

"You ungrateful wretch! I won't hear another word of this. As my daughter you will do as I say."

We stared each other down, both of us breathing hard.

"I'm not your daughter and you're not my father. You're an old man and a fool!"

He struck me across my face knocking me to the floor only to drag me roughly up to my feet again. His eyes held no warmth for me, no compassion. I was a pawn in a game run by men. He was just using me for his own means.

“You've crossed me too many times little girl. But mark my words you will marry and you will do so without complaint. You will do as I say or I swear to you, you will be joining your mother.”

I rubbed my cheek.

“Do you understand?”

When I didn’t answer he struck me again and forced me to my knees.

“Do you understand me?” He bellowed.

“Yes father.”

Without another word he left me alone on the cold floor.


The graveyard was cold. Even though the sun shined so brightly. But then it was always cold. Mother had said that the druids put a curse on it and the people that rested there. She said the curse forced people to return from the dead and torment the living. Some tribes burned their dead to stop them from returning. Our tribe thought that it was savage.

My mother had poisoned herself. She'd never loved my father and when she could give him no more children, she saw him for the cruel and abusive man that he was. If she hadn’t taken her own life my father certainly would’ve. When they buried her they covered her grave with heavy stones. People said suicides came back. I only wished that they'd buried me with her.

Marriage killed people. You didn’t marry for love. Ever. Father said that love was for peasants and fools. Love didn’t keep you rich.

“You aren’t supposed to be here Venetia.” A deep voice jolted my from my thoughts. I turned round and saw him.

Dazzling blue eyes sparkled at me; it was like they had been taken from the finest crystal. His beautiful face was perfect, like it was carved from marble; full lips, strong jaw and high cheek bones. His shirt clung to his herculean torso and his finely honed muscles. Keir looked like the sort of man that you wanted to hold tight and never let go. A man who you would want to love forever.

But he was poison.

The sick and twisted kind that took pleasure in quashing those that he saw as weak and killing anyone who opposed him. And I had to marry him.

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