Her father snored. After the evening’s activities were over, he would roll over and start to snore. She would lie there, cursing her life, but mostly cursing her father. He kept her in this damned house, he kept her in this damned room, taking her out (if she was lucky) once every other week or so for a shower, and maybe a walk around, but that was it. She was kept handcuffed to the bed, and covered in bruises. Once, she had tried to escape, but he caught her, and hit her head many times. It had been hard to think after that.

She rolled onto the side that wasn’t bruised, and a tear rolled down her face as she tried to sleep.

He watched the lights go out in the house. He waited, not so patiently in the bushes outside the room. He waited until her heard the old man snore, and then counted to five thousand.

It was a warm night, and the window had been left open. He tried to shut off the noises of lovemaking from the bedroom, but hadn’t been successful. On the other hand, it made sneaking into the house that much easier. It was a one-story ranch, and he jumped over the windowsill, landing softly on the floor and froze. The old many grunted, rolled over, and fell back into his heavy snore. The girl sighed softly, and a tear rolled down her cheek, illuminated by the moonbeam shining through the window.

He breathed again, tiptoed to the side of the bed that the girl occupied, and looked down. Her hair was matted, and looked like it hadn’t been washed in days. She lay naked on top of the covers, and beads of sweat covered her skinny body. She looked more like a fourteen-year-old girl than the woman in her mid-twenties she was. Bruises covered where clothes normally would, and he guessed that they were more gifts from her father. All that was about to change.

She woke suddenly, and would have cried out, but the gloved hand over her mouth prevented that. She looked into the deep brown eyes of the intruder, and knew that the change she had been praying for had arrived. She relaxed, and closed her eyes, trying not to wince as her father’s brains and blood splattered over her. The hand left her mouth, and she heard a thud as the fat body was rolled on the floor. She sat up, and kissed the man who had murdered her father.

He led her into the bathroom, and helped her to take a shower in the dirty, cockroach infested room. They went back into the bedroom, and made love on top of the bed sheets that were drenched in the blood and brains of her father, with the gun and silencer sitting on the headless corpse on the floor.

The next morning they found a decent outfit for the girl, and walked out the front door, into the bright sunshine of a new day and a new life.