The Deal: Chapter 1

Some say that fate is what brings us all together. It determines whom we meet, what we do, or even what we become. I think that fate is a very foolish concept; one used by those who attempt to describe all that cannot be explained. It is the same with religion.  If there is actually a god, how could he let my life be the way that it is? What have I ever done to anyone?

Clink, clink, scrape, drag. Once again, here comes the sound of my new hell, a pit that burns me and brands me with the worst of everlasting marks.

Chapter 1:

It was just another normal day, a day filled with a grey emotionless sky covered by couching clouds. This is not a nice place; anyone with a kind upbringing would never come to this filthy, disgusting place hidden far away from any form of society. I slept right in the shack; a straw shack held in place by black mud, covered in dirt and crumbly sand from the years it had been standing. It was not built for me, of course. Cheap imported silk hid under the protection of the door-less covering – I was simply the unpaid clerk who was in charge of running the black business.

“CADENCE!”

That familiar, dreadful sound… Hearing the spoiled tone of my so-called adoptive mother sent a fresh wave of sweat down my half-soaked grey t-shirt. The day was the hottest I’d experienced in my seventeen years of life. I wiped my forehead with the wrinkled back of my hand and tied my orange hair up into a high ponytail. The customers of Adelaide, my unofficial adoptive mother, always commented on my whore-like dyed hair, but I’d learned to tolerate the illiterate waste of space trash that I was forced to come into contact with every single day for the past eight years of my life.

“CADDDENCE!” Adelaide screeched once again. She was not a tall, respectable lady. I’d heard her customers call her an obese pear-shaped slut who slept with hundreds of men to obtain the crummy shack that she ran with me.

“Yes, mother?” I quickly walked over to her.
“You ungrateful brat! How dare you?!”
“Wha-“

She never gave me a chance to finish. The last thing I saw before I passed out was her hand – the one with the ring – flying down to smack my back. I knew that she was going to hurt me, but I was secretly hoping she would use her other hand, at least that one never cut into my skin. Was that a smirk I saw on her face?