7Next chapter. We'll get to the action soon, I promise. Necessary disclaimer: I don't condone violence. Especially against innocent victims. This is just a story idea I've had scrawled on papers a while that's starting to expand. Reviews are always appreciated.
She was always intrigued by coincidences. It was a coincidence that her father moved out when she was five; the same year she was taught by a particularly handsome teacher. Her mother didn't mind her staying late for the extra tutoring he offered, being too busy with work. That he touched her where adults never ought to wasn't a coincidence, but she didn't enjoy it, so perhaps those were interrelated.
As time went on, the coincidences grew more interesting. It was a coincidence that the old Thunderbird that ran over her cat when she was seven was the same as the neighbour's son's. He'd offered her a piece of candy and blown it off because the cat was old anyhow. She'd gotten a new kitten for her birthday that year. It hadn't survived very long, poisoned by its food. Perhaps some sort of contamination the veterinarian guessed.
When she was eight, the Thunderbird at the neighbour's house was involved in a hit and run accident. No-one took it for a coincidence; the boy had been high out of his mind when the cops found him. Said he'd been poisoned by the little girl next door. She went to the funeral of course, watched her first grade teacher being lowered into the ground. She didn't go to the trial where the boy got three years in prison for killing such a beloved teacher.
By the time she'd grown older, letting her hair flow down her shoulders, she'd accepted the magical power of coincidences. If people believed they were accidents and mistakes, then they were magical. If they realized she was pulling the strings all along that was a crying shame. But at seventeen, no-one had figured her out and lived to tell the tale, which was the best coincidence of all.