A.N: Here it is! I'm hell bent on finishing 'The Outcast' so I don't think I'll be all that regular in the update of this story but, who knows? The prologue is basically an insight into the childhood of the main characters.
The little boy watched in horror as the man he called his father hit his mother repeatedly. She tried to get away from him but tripped over her expensive evening gown.
"STOP IT, DAVID, STOP!" she screamed trying to shield her face.
"YOU WHORE!" the drunk man yelled, "You're nothing but a worthless slut!"
"I wasn't flirting with him I swear!" she cried in a desparate plea, "I wasn't doing anything!"
"You lying bitch!" the enraged man continued to shout, "you were fucking cheating on me! I know the fucking kids are not even mine!"
"They are!" sobbed the woman from pain and grief, "Elizabeth and Tristan are your own flesh and blood!"
"Shut up!" he roared.
He grabbed her by her hair and dragged her foreward deaf to her screams. The servants had the day off, there was no one to help her.
"You'll pay for that you treacherous swine!" he yelled as he threw her foreward. The woman lost her footing and with a bloodcurdling scream fell all the way down the stairs. There was a sickening thud and her screams were heard no more.
The man descended the stairs and the child heard him curse loudly.
"Fucking bitch broke her neck!" he swore, "she deserved it, the wench. I need a drink."
The five year old boy listened in a state of absolute shock.
He remembered all the times his mother would tell him what a nice man his father was and how she always blamed his behavior on the amount of alcohol he drank. She had suffered so much and look what she got in the end. His father was like the bad guys in the movies who always killed good people. But the bad guy got killed in the end right? Then his father would die too. Otherwise he would hurt him and his sister and brother and he had promised his mother that he would always look after Elizabeth and Noah.
He calmly walked to his parents room and opened the drawer on the bedside table. For a moment he stared at the object before picking it up.
"What are you doing with the gun, Twist?" asked a timid voice.
"I'm going to kill the bad guy Elizabeth," he said as he turned to face his younger sister who stood in her nightdress clutching her teddy bear, next to her stood their youngest brother Noah, "If the bad guy doesn't die he will hurt more people."
The four year old girl nodded as if she understood and quietly followed her brother down stairs with Noah clinging onto her hand.
Tristan stood in the centre of the living room watching his father's back as the man downed another drink.
Tristan cocked the the gun as he raised it with both hands and aimed at his father. He knew how to use a gun. His father himself had shown him for amusement's sake never knowing it was to be used against him.
His father whirled around at the sound and stared at the barrel.
"What are you doing boy?!" he asked, "put that thing away!"
"You killed mommy," Tristan said his voice devoid of emotion, "you are not going to kill Elizabeth ot Noah."
"Don't be a fool boy," his father said starting towards but a clear shot rang out and red blossomed on his chest. He stared in shock for a moment before he crumpled to the ground.
Tristan returned to his mother's body and found his sister sitting next to it. Little Noah was sitting at her head and playing with the dead woman's long blonde hair.
"Mammy, looks pwetty," the two year old said with a toothy smile.
"Is she dead, Twist?" she asked. He nodded as he sat down and waited for morning to come.
The young girl sat motionless as they carried away her parents' coffins. Her dark oriental eyes looked empty and withdrawn.
She had no one left and she was all alone.
"Jade," her aunt said, "sweetheart?"
The girl didn't reply. Emptiness filled her soul and even as a child she knew it would be there for a long time to come.
Derek lay on his bed listening the drunken snores of his father downstairs. The ugly bruise on his cheek was throbbing painfully.
He was tired of living life like this where he was given no respect. He looked out of the window at the stars that shone down so brightly at him. the bitterness in his mind was quickly replaced by a sudden determination to survive.
One day he would be free...
"Come on bitch!"
Pain seared through her body as her stepfather moved inside her with increasing force. She would have screamed had she the strength but it was all gone now. She felt his hand grope her, his nails tearing into her flesh adding new scratches and reopening old ones.
With a grunt the man was finished and he pulled out and roughly dropped her fragile naked body on the cold floor.
"I'll be back," he said in a harshly.
She tried to raise herself as she threw up, the bitter taste of bile filling her mouth. She lay there pain still throbbing in her lower regions it hurt to even breathe.
The basement smelt putrid with the number of times she had retched in there in the last month. Her body was covered with dirt and dried blood caked the various cuts and scratches. Her dark hair was now matted with filth and blood as she fought a losing battle with unconciousness.
She stood in front of the inticately carved mahogany desk where a middle aged man was staring at a letter her mother had given her before she committed suicide. Child Services had found her locked in the basement and had cleaned her up and with the aid of her letter brought her here.
Evans looked up at the ten year old girl and then back at the letter. Martha Lanford, a woman he had had an affair with, a woman he had long forgotten, was the mother of the girl. He glanced blindly over the words.
... I can't live like this anymore Alec, I can hardly keep the boy alive. Now I have reached the end of my rope and am sending him to you,not to ruin your life but out of desparation. Forgive me.
She's a bright child like her father and will make you proud one day. I know it. I want her to succeed in life. I beg you not to send her away. She knows you are her this letter reaches you I shall no longer be alive...
Once more he looked at the girl who simply stared back at him. She had coal black hair and hazel eyes that were flecked with so much gold that they looked like that of a cat's, but there could also be seen the sharp intelligence that many people had remarked they could see in Evans's eyes.
Carrignton was not pleased.
His wife Ingird had thrown a fit and left only to be back the next morning. She wouldn't leave him of course, or rather his wealth. She had come up with a ploy to fool the media. Since she couldn't have anymore children after the birth of their son they would pretend that he was their adopted daughter. The press would love it. But Evans could see that she would never be a mother to him, he was just someone who would be the cause of her recieveing less money when Evans died.
"What's your name?" Evans asked. He couldn't send the girl away since she knew that he was the father. It would be bad publicity.
"Faith," the girl replied., "Faith Evans."