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Demon's Daughter: Chapter 2Chapter 2
She immediately ducked as she heard a few more knives hit the wall. How many knives did he have anyway?
Apparently, the man heard the knives hit the wall and not Ivy as well.
"Little Ivy," he said in a singsong voice," Come out, come out wherever you are."
At that statement, she froze. How did he know her name? She shook from head to toe and slowly turned
towards the man and tried to see his face. Another knife flashed by her and she quickly hid again.
"Found ya," the man said playfully.
She was startled at the statement. Hoping he was just teasing her, but as if in an instant, the man was
right in front of her. He laughed, as she just stared in fear. She could see his face clearly now. He had short
brownish hair with a few greys mixed in and a scar running down his right eye. Why did villains always have some
sort of scars to make them look evil? Anyway, it seemed like he still had a lot of knives up his sleeve and I mean
that literally. He had a knife in his hand ready to k
Chapter 1: Demon's DaughterDemon's Daughter
Ivy waited anxiously outside the operating room for her mother. Suddenly the ER light went off, and the
doctor came out.
"How's mommy??" Ivy asked.
"I'm sorry...but your mother...she's gone..." answered the doctor sadly.
Ivy was crushed. She collapsed to the ground and just started crying. It was only the natural thing to do
if your mother suddenly died on what seemed like a perfect day. The doctor stayed to comfort her. When she
finally calmed down, she asked to see her mother one last time. She was still on the operation tale, a white
sheet stained in blood that was covering her cold, dead body.
"Why," she asked as tears streamed down her cheeks," WHY WOULD YOU LEAVE ME?!?! IT SHOULD'VE BEEN ME!
She sobbed quietly over her mother's dead body, but after a long moment of silence a cold, hard voice broke the
"Yes. It should've," someone said behind her.
Ivy looked toward the door. I
A Bloody, Stupid Miracle The day we’d cured the human condition was the day I put a bullet through my head and didn’t die. It was also the day I realized how scared I actually was of death, and after hours of muscle ache from holding that gauze against my open skull, after the wound closed and everything went back to normal, I had myself a good old-fashioned brainstorm. How ironic.
But when summer came, everything had fallen to shit. The air scorched my skin and parched my tongue every time I took a breath. The sun glared down on a rapidly-collapsing world, full of the undying bastard children of cruelty and misfortune. What was one to do when their cells regenerated faster than they decomposed?
My feet hit the pavement, now littered with jagged bits of glass to snap at my toes, thoroughly baked by the blazing ball of bitter disdain high overhead. Today was worse than yesterday. Though I’d often wondered the purpose of it anymore, I
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