Thank you for choosing to read my story. This was something that came to me one winter night as I drove home and realized my scarf that I was wearing was beginning to choke me. The simpliest of things can inspire an entire world. Please enjoy, and leave some feed back if possible. Thank you~!

Chapter One

It was the only thing that drove him: revenge. Three years ago he was betrayed; a knife that was plunged so deep into his back that he relived the pain day after day. Everyone he had trusted, everyone that he had once loved all thought him dead and gone. And it wasn't entirely a bad thing.

After all, a dead man cannot come back to life.

Ezra was alone this night, leaned against his Audi and smoking his Lucky 7's. He had already been standing there for more than an hour and the cigarette butts were beginning to pile. It was dark out and Charles Brooke had been home for about a half hour. It was perfect; Charles would have been settled by now. The last thing on his mind would be an uninvited guest.

As Ezra approached the property, he checked around the acreage, making sure that no one else was in sight. Charles lived just outside of the city limits, mostly for private reasons. But the open fields and the lines of trees made him vulnerable.

The lights were all on inside the house, but Ezra felt that something was amiss. He checked the patio doors and was not quite surprised to find that they were left unlocked.

Ezra entered the house, closing the door silently behind him. He noticed the broken glass on the kitchen floor and a pantry that was full of hard liquor was also opened. There was shouting that came from the living room and it came from a man whose voice made the very blood boil in Ezra's veins.

"You worthless whore," Charles slurred. His tie was loose at his chest and his hair was dishevelled. He was obviously intoxicated and disoriented. In one hand he held a short glass, in the other a near empty bottle of whiskey. His wife, Daphne, was slumped onto the couch, sobbing uncontrollably. She was a beautifully aged woman as well as honest and true; much the complete contrast of her husband. She had lovely eyes and soft facial features. But now she only showed fear.

"Charles, please," she begged. "You're drunk, please, stop this." She motioned toward her husband but was immediately struck with his cup. The glass shattered against the side of her face and she was thrown back once again onto the sofa.

He spat on her. "Don't give me orders, whore! There is no woman in this world that can give me orders let alone yourself!" Charles wiped his sleeve across his mouth and snarled at her. "Where would you be without me, huh? Nowhere! All you've done is useless, nothing. You've given me no son, only a parasite!"

There was a cry from the front entrance. Their daughter, Evangeline Brooke, came running to the aid of her mother. But he grabbed her by her long hair and shouted inches from her face, "Where do you think you're going?"

"Dad, stop!" She tried to wrestle her way out of his hold but he kept her still. "Let go, dad, please!"

Charles laughed and finished his last bit of whiskey from the bottle. "Dad?" He shoved her hard and she hit the china cabinet, breaking the glass, the plates, the teacups, and falling limp upon the wreckage. He stood close and growled at Evangeline, "I am not your father. You're a mistake that Daphne decided to make and keep. I should have gotten rid of you a long time ago." He pulled a handgun from his pocket and aimed it at her. "I should've gotten rid of you."

That was when Ezra stepped into the room.

"You know, Charles, I never figured you to be an alcoholic, let alone a violent man."

Charles whipped around in surprise, dropping his gun as his vision whorled around the room. His jaw dropped to see Ezra standing in front of him. "You! You're supposed to be dead!"

Ezra shrugged and began pacing the room. "When you framed me, I did die. Today, I stand before you as a completely different man now."

"Why the hell are you here?"

A cruel smirk snaked to the corner of Ezra's lips. "Oh, nothing, I just wanted to tell you: your clock is ticking."

Charles scrambled for his gun and fired.

However, he missed and hit Daphne instead. She touched the wound on her chest once before a look of betrayal crossed her face. Her body convulsed a few times before the light in her eyes faded away, their gaze falling onto her daughter, who could barely open her own.