Fury's Love. Tess Mathews

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      Belle twirled her way down the path to her home as her parents lay dying in the parlor.

       The best night of my life. Travis and my first kiss. I will remember tonight for the rest of my life.

      As she continued to dance, her blue satin dress shimmered in the twilight, giving her an angelic appearance. The joy of the night and her bright future filled her heart, then she heard a horse whinny. Strange?

      Belle's dance came to a stumbling stop. A horse? I'm too far from the barn to hear the horses. Papa's never careless with the team. It couldn't be one of them

      Careful steps led her to the sound. There, off the main path, she spied the dark outline of two horses. Who do they belong too? Belle cringed. Oh, come on, Belle; they are probably someone's lost horses. I need to go tell Papa.

      Her eyes darted left, then right, as she crept to her house. The cringe in her stomach tightened as her home came into view. Something's wrong.

      Her throat thickened. The lamp Mama lit in the foyer burned its usual warm glow, but upstairs, an eerie light shone. Not a light from someone's nightstand, but from a lamp someone held. Belle's heart thudded as the lamp moved from room to room, casting odd shadows and, at times, the outline of a person.

      The night air, crisp and clean just moments ago, became hot and thin. Belle struggled to take a breath. I must go in. I must find Mama and Papa. Belle found her way to the back porch. She removed her shoes and opened the door, careful not to allow a creak. The kitchen was dark, except for a shaft of light from the foyer. Belle heard the creaking groan of footsteps above her.

      She froze. Were they her parent's footsteps she heard or someone else's? Then she heard a pained whimper.

      With gentle footsteps, she made her way to the parlor where she believed the sound originated. A sense of foreboding washed over her as her chest cinched tighter with every step. An odd copper scent drifted in the air; Belle refused to accept the smell of blood.

      The parlor also benefited from the foyer light. Her eyes struggled to accustom themselves to the dim lighting. Shapes formed then outlines of objects, tables and chairs, but something lay on the floor; she could not make it out. The feeble sound of gasping breaths coaxed her to what lay near her feet, but icy trepidation fought to pull her back.

      "Belle," she heard a weak whisper of her name.

      "Papa?"

      The voice confirmed her fear.

      Her body shuddered as she drew close.

      "Papa!" Her heart wanted to scream his name, but she spoke in a terrified whisper. She crouched by her father.

      "Belle, run." Her father's voice trembled.

      "Papa, you're hurt, Where's Mama?"

      She scanned the dark room. There, a little way from, her lay another form, and she knew it was her mother. She dragged herself to the lifeless body.

      "No, Belle," she heard her father's weak protest.

      "Wake up." Belle gently shook her mother's body. "Please, Mama, wake up." She touched the side of her mother's face, only to draw back when a sticky substance covered her hand.

      "Belle," her father's voice reached her, "she's gone, and I will be soon. Don't look at her. Remember her life, Belle, not her death." Belle's father struggled to talk, his breathing growing shallower as the seconds ticked by.

      She crawled back to him and cradled his head in her lap.

      "Belle, run…live."

      "Papa, I can't leave you and Mama."

      Belle heard the clunking of heavy boots making their way down the stairs.

      "Belle." Judge Alston racked his body to gain a gasp of air." Go now, Belle…remember us as we were," he wheezed, "don't let this moment define your life…live, Belle, be happy."

      Belle wiped a tear from his eye and leaned her head down against his. "Don't leave me," she whispered.

      Judge Alston's hand shook as he raised it to cup his daughter's face. "Run." His hand dropped with a thud.

      "I'm not leaving you or Mama. I'll save you, Papa." Denial flooded her heart as she refused the reality in front of her. She got to her feet and made her way through the kitchen. She edged her way through the foyer, hugging the wall with her back.

      One of the intruders whistled a tune as she slid into the stairwell closet. Belle shrank into the back of the closet, her back pressed against the wall. She slid down, crouching in the solitude of a dark corner.

      Her frenzied mind hindered her ability to focus and think. Rubbing her temples with her fingertips, she attempted to clear her mind, but to no avail. She drew her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her knees, hugging herself. Desperate to do something but helpless, she remained in the darkness and trembled.

       What do I do? What if they find me?

      Small bands of light leaked through the louvers of the closet door, casting eerie shadows. Belle's eyes darted in the dim light searching, searching…

       A weapon…a weapon. I need a weapon! Mama's sewing basket. Yes…scissors in there…I could…I could stab one of them. If I had to.

      She rose on wobbling legs and rummaged the shelves, searching for her mother's sewing basket

       Bam!

      Belle's body jolted at the sound of the gunshot, and fear drove her back to her hiding place.

       Bam! Bam!

      The murmur of voices reached her ears. Her limbs wobbled and shook as she crawled to the door. She needed to hear them.

      "What ya go and do that for? They's dead already."

      "Just making sure."

      "Come on; let's finish and get outta here."

      A shudder of grief racked her small body and agony seared her heart. As hot, bitter tears washed her face, she clasped both hands over her mouth to stifle a scream. With rapid, shallow gasps, she breathed in the rank air and felt sick.

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