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"To Every Dusk, There is a Dawn"

Note to readers: This story contains strong and obscene language, graphic violence and sexual material, and other mature adult themes. If this type of material offends you, please do not proceed onto the story. I stress that none of this is thrown in for shock effect, and, therefore, do not take any responsibility for any taken offense after this message.

Five years ago...

"Come here, ya little bitch," the angry voice shouted so loud that the entire house echoed in its destructive rage. "You're gonna get what ya deserve!"

Elsewhere in the house, at the same time, the young girl hid under the kitchen sink, cowering for her dear life, afraid of what he would do to her when he found her. At twelve years of age, she had experienced more than any young girl should...the tragedies, the abuse, the physical battery. She could still feel the burns of the scars on her back that had constantly been inflicted on her by one who should love her and not hurt her. Unfortunately, this "love" was all in her imagination and her dreams. The harsh reality was a pure hellhole of nothing but pain and torture. Her blue eyes were now puffy and red from the tears that had fallen day after day, and her dark, jet-black hair, which should have been silky and smooth, was instead tangled and crusty.

Again, the voice filled the house, this time remotely calmer and sweeter, calling out to her, "Come on, sweetheart. Let daddy find you. He won't hurt you." She knew better though. On the surface, sure, the voice was filled with love and kindness, but she knew well enough that the true meaning was that of mocking and aggression. She shivered at the thoughts of what he had already done to her for the past three years...luckily her sister and mother had gotten out of it...but why couldn't they have taken her with them? What did she do to deserve this monster's further punishment? She'd always tried to be a good girl just like she was supposed to be. She had gone to church every Sunday in her frilly dress, she had prayed, she had even ignored the recently emerging surge of hormones as she found her body changing. Of course, the evil monster had noticed that and taken full advantage of it in his drunken rages. Why had God abandoned her to these hellish tortures? Surely there must be a grander plan for her than to be her father's punching bag. But what was it?

Suddenly, though, her thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of heavy footsteps having reached the kitchen entryway. Her time had run out; she was sure of that...

"Ah ha! There ya are, you little slut. Time to take your medicine..." her father said bitterly as he unbuckled his belt and pulled it out of his pants loops. "Come here, darlin'. Daddy will be as gentle as he can..."

The girl's eyes widened in overwhelming terror. She was trapped and there was no way out for her. She cowered in the corner as far as she could, but to no avail as strong hands grabbed hold of her wrists and violently pulled her out into the open. She felt like a deer caught in the middle of an open meadow waiting for the hunters to come blow her head off...for some reason though, this was much worse...perhaps because being shot would have ended this immediately while she realized this would go on and on...until...

A fist slammed against her nose as she heard cracking and sinews tearing. The pain shot through her immediately and that black light you get when you take a blow to your head appeared in front of her eyes. Her vision was impaired, but it didn't matter. Perhaps it was even better this way...no way to see the blows coming...Again, she felt the wrathful and vengeful hand of her father strike across her face, this time cracking her jaw and banging several teeth loose. She waited for the end to come, even welcomed it at this point. A life that would end too soon, but, she realized, would be too merciful. Finish it, she prayed. Finish me off, dad...

She tried blinking through her blurred vision, but couldn't clear her eyes. No blows, no nothing...except for the heavy panting she could hear from her father. Then, straining her ears some more, she heard him muttering, "No...this would be even better..." That statement scared her, but before she could even attempt to run, she felt his hands again on her, roughly trying to unbuckle her pants. She felt her stomach become queasy as thoughts raced through her mind for the plans he had for her. Her pants dropped, followed by her panties, leaving her bottom naked to the cold air in the kitchen. Then, she heard her father fiddling with the button and zipper on his pants, and she panicked. She tried to move, but he must have seen her and kicked her in the stomach, forcing her to cough up blood as she fell to the floor in a painful heap. The next thing she knew, he was on top of her, repeating over and over about how she'd "love this." What "this" was, she wasn't sure, but she found out immediately as she felt her father slam something deep inside of her, into a place little girls should not be violated. She didn't have to guess what that was as something inside of her tore, causing her to scream out.

"Shut the fuck up," he yelled as he slapped her again. She cried, begging him to stop, but he hit her again and again as he slammed his body in and out of her. Again, she tried to push him off of her, but he was just too heavy. The taste of blood filled her mouth as she realized that it was draining from out of her nose and down into her throat. She coughed loudly, but was rewarded once again with another blow to her face. The blackness began to well up within her and attempted to drive her down into the abyss...she began to lose consciousness, the only sounds filling her ears being the heavy panting of her father and the slap, slap, slap as he moved in and out of her...

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Present Day...

In the middle of nowhere some forty miles from Omaha, Nebraska, the Anthony B. Thompson Institute for the Criminally Insane sat nestled amidst small hills, the nearest road being ten miles away. Having been founded in 1835 by Thompson, over the years it had served as a lockdown for about one thousand members of society who could no longer function in the normal balance of everyday life. Ranging from those individuals who were schizophrenics to those who had simply become catatonic due to some severe trauma, the building had seen a lot in its one hundred and sixty-five years. Considered a drab building when compared to its natural surroundings, it, however, properly fit with its residents. Gray on the outside, the bricks having begun to deteriorate, the building had never been renovated, and could never be mistaken for anything other than its true purpose...to house the scary and dysfunctional.

The quiet, somewhat morbid silence around it was now disrupted as a pick-up truck drove up to the security gate that was built around the facility. The vehicle was old, most likely a 1983 model, and certainly had seen a lot of action in its years. Dirt and dried up mud covered the faded blue exterior, most recently having been caused by the car having to go off-road to reach the institute. It stopped at the security check, and the driver rolled down the window to reveal an attractive woman in her mid-thirties with reddish hair and green eyes. A pair of small, opal-colored glasses rested on the tip of her nose. She smiled at the security guard, an older man in his sixties with at most three hairs on his head.

"Afternoon, Susan," the man nodded at the woman, speaking in a gruff tone while at the same time returning her smile.

"Right back at you, Jake," the woman replied, slowly getting out of the car as the man exited his booth. "You know I always look forward to these daily frisks."

The man laughed as he checked over as he checked her for any hidden weapons or off-limits items. "Aw, ya know it's standard procedure. Have to make sure ya ain't breakin' the rules. Wouldn't want one of the loonies to escape."

"Oh, Heaven forbid," she said, now allowing him to check the inside cab of her truck. "But I'm sure you'd be able to stop them since you're a big, strong hunk, right?"

"Hardy har har, doctor. Yer always a laugh riot, ya know?"

"Or maybe I'm just giving you the credit you deserve," she said, trying to boost his self-esteem some more.

"Well, it's not like we've had a breakout in the fifteen years I've been here. It's always so quiet around here and I don't do nothin' but sit on my overweight ass all day and greet the people who come through this gate."

"Hey, look on the bright side. You could always work in retail and be on your feet eight to ten hours a day."

"At my age? You gotta be kiddin'."

"What? You can't be more than twenty-five or thirty," Susan joked.

"Pssh, whatever, doc. Yer lookin' at a full-fledged grandfather."

"Speaking of," Susan began, deciding to change the subject, "how are those little rugrats?"

Rolling his eyes, Jake shook his head and said, "The same hellions as always. I can tell ya that they give 'grandpappy' a run fer his money. I pulled my back out the other day tryin' ta throw the ol' baseball ta Jonathan."

Laughing, Susan said, "Well, that's grandparenthood for you..." She paused to look at her watch and slapped the hood of her truck, "Shit! I better get inside before Sam has my ass for dinner. I've got a bunch of things to do today...lots of patient therapy sessions too..."

"Ah, well...ya better get goin'," he replied as she got back into her truck. "Ya have a good day, Dr. Daly."

"You too, Jake. Say 'hi' to the family for me."

"Will do. See ya, Susan." She waved and put the truck in 'drive', then headed through the gate. As she drove off, Jake shook his head and muttered to himself, "If only I was ten years younger...sheesh..."

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As Susan Daly walked down the plaster corridor, she could hear the same screams and moans she had heard everyday for the last five years she had worked here. She shivered as the high-pitched sounds floated into her ears, as she had never gotten used to the sounds of pain and frustration that inhabit this place. How could she? Would she be any less human if she became desensitized to it? She shook her head, dismissing those thoughts immediately. Sometimes she felt that she was as insane as those who resided here were...

The clopping of her shoes against the tile floor had drawn the attention of those in the rooms on both sides of her. For those who could still walk under their own power, they had reached the doors to their cells and looked out through the small windows, their lustful, drooling stares making her feel uncomfortable. She hurried a little more down the hallway, not wanting to linger there anymore, somewhat afraid of how she would react, and more so of what they would do to her if they ever got loose.

Suddenly, she heard rapid footsteps behind her as someone came running behind her. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up and she felt her body tense, though she couldn't say why.

"Susan! God, there you are!"

She turned and came face-to-face with a man in a white lab coat. She smiled slightly as she saw Samuel Thompson running down the hallway, his dark hair flopping in his face.

"Were you looking for me, Sam?" she asked smugly.

He didn't answer her question as he seriously asked her, "Where have you been? You're late."

Her smile faded and she met his level of seriousness. "I'm sorry. I was outside talking to Jake and I guess time kind of slipped by and--"

"You've been late a lot lately. This isn't good for those patients who expect to meet with you on time. You're our only psychiatrist here, so it's not like we could replace you..."

She nodded and said, "I know...I'll try to watch my time from now on, okay?"

He looked at her for a minute, studying her face as if he was making sure she was telling the truth. Then, he replied, "All right...just don't let it happen anymore...or...well, I'll have to write you up and leave it to the board to decide whether we keep you or let you go."

"I understand," she said glumly. She looked at this man, the great-grandson of the institute's founder. He took his job seriously and oversaw everything that went on. After the sudden death of his father two years before, he was forced to quit his private practice in Washington State and take over the daily duties. Over that time, she'd seen him rise from a rank amateur to become the foundation of this facility.

His hard exterior then dropped and he finally smiled, "So, since when are you hitting on poor Jake? You know no man can resist your charms." He nudged her playfully, to which she laughed and replied, "Everyone but you, my dear Sam."

"Ah..." he said, holding up his finger, "but who says I haven't?"

"Your wife," Susan answered, jokingly.

"Hmmm," he started, pretending to think about it, "good point, good point...anyway, we better get moving. Your patient is waiting for you in one of the therapy rooms."

"Who is it today?"

He paused, looked at her, and then handed her the folder in his hand slowly. Opening the folder, she took a look at the front page and sighed sadly.

"'Dawn,' eh? Poor girl...such hatred and anger..." she stated to no one in particular. Dawn wasn't the girl's real name, but it was the only one she'd answer to. She had been here for the past year after a tragic incident involving her and her father that resulted in the man's death. There had been some idle speculation from her neighbors and mother, but the real account was lost since the girl had apparently shut off the memory of that night in her mind. All Susan knew was that the girl was found out on the front lawn by a burning corpse...later, the police identified the remains as her father. Some people had said she had killed him, but until the girl remembered...

Sam suddenly spoke sadly, "I'll never understand what that girl went through."

"Me either. I've gotten some information out of her, but she still has shut off a lot. But what can you say from someone who has suffered through what she did?"

Sam merely shook his head, and gestured to a door to the left of Susan. "Here we are. You ready for this?"

"Thanks for asking, but I'm determined to make progress with her even if it kills me."

"That's what I'm afraid of..." She thought he was joking, but after noticing the solemn look on his face, she realized he was serious.

"Aw, come on, Sam. She's only a seventeen-year old girl. What harm can she do?"

Shaking his head again, he lowered his voice, "I don't know. I may have said I wouldn't ever understand what she went through, but something about her sends shivers up my spine...she scares me. Every time she sees me, I feel like she's looking deep into my soul with those hate-filled eyes of hers..."

Chuckling, Susan replied, "You're just being paranoid. She just has some problems..."

"Well, whatever...I just can't wait until we can get rid of her..."

"You just wait. I'll make progress with her and show you that she's just a normal girl."

"Well..." he started to say while looking at the door, "good luck then. I have a feeling you'll need it."

Susan snorted and then waved him off, "I'll talk to you later, Sam. Go take a nap. It'll make you feel better." She watched him head off down the hall, then when he had turned the corner, she took hold of the knob on the door, and opened it. She was greeted by a faintly lit room, but, not surprisingly, it was similar to all the other rooms in the building. Small and compact and nothing but white walls.

In the middle of the room, a girl sat in a chair with her back to the door. Her hands rested on the metal table in front of her. However, as soon as she heard the door open, she turned around quickly, her deep blue eyes staring at Susan. The girl's jet-black hair hung loosely around her shoulders, and her pale skin looked even whiter under the room's lights. At that moment, Susan believed the girl looked like the walking dead...but nonetheless...

"Good afternoon, Dawn," Susan greeted the young girl as she made her way around to the chair on the other side of the table.

The girl eyed her darkly and then bitterly muttered, "Hello, Dr. Daly. I always look forward to your visits." The girl sneered at her, making Susan feel uncomfortable as if the girl wanted to rip her throat out.

"Well, I'm glad someone does. I wish my husband felt the same way," Susan said, trying to lighten up the conversation. The girl said nothing, but only sat back in her chair.

"Okay," Susan said, looking over her file, "last time I think we were making progress. You were telling me about your father's history of abusiveness towards you. There's something new I want to try with you today to see if we can jog your memory a little. Perhaps you've heard about hypnosis?"

"Yeah, it's something you quacks do to try and control people's minds..."

"Well, not exactly. Us 'quacks' merely help you along by using suggestions to jog the blocked memories."

"I don't need to have you use that shit on my head...I can remember things fine."

Sitting back in her chair, Susan decided to give the girl a chance, "Okay...well, why don't you tell me what you remember..."

Dawn sneered again, enjoying playing the doctor's games. Sure, she'd play her little game... for now...

"Well, you see, I can remember when the abuse started...the very first time..."

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Eight years ago...

"No, give me the ball..."

"No, you give it to me..."

"I had it first..."

"No, you didn't..."

"SHUT UP!! I'M TRYING TO WORK!" the voice yelled from upstairs. Her mother was out for the day and she was trying to get the rubber ball from her sister. She knew that she had had it first, but the other girl insisted that she had had it.

"Come on, give it to me or I'm telling daddy," her sister persisted.

She shook her head at her sister and whispered, 'We can't. He's working, and always yells at us when we're too loud."

Her sister stuck her tongue out and said, "Well, that's because you're always bothering him."

"Nuh uh. I wasn't the one who lost the cat."

To nine-year old children, such as the two girls, the idea of right and wrong played an important part in developing behavior, perhaps to an extreme, because that's how tattletales get started. Nothing else matters when someone has done something wrong...the nine-year old child must tell someone with authority to make sure that person got in trouble. The little girl eyed her sister carefully, figuring that she had to be cautious and find some way to get the ball back.

"Come on, I had the ball first. You know I did."

"Nuh uh," her sister said, shaking her head.

The girl felt the anger rise up in her and the impatience of having to wait, and leapt at her sister, crashing into her body, making both of them fall to the floor. She made a grab for the ball in her sister's hand, but the other girl wouldn't give it up that easily.

"Give it," she yelled, frustrated.

"No! It's mine!"

Their bodies rolled along the floor and into a nearby table, which had a vase sitting atop of it. The impact knocked the table hard enough to cause it to shake. Like dominoes, the impact carried to the vase, and in one swift motion, the porcelain object fell off the table and broke apart on the floor with a loud smash.

"WHAT THE HELL--" the voice shouted from upstairs again. This time, however, footsteps followed in its stead as loud clomping echoed through the house as their father made his way down the stairs.

"I got it!" the girl screamed as she held the ball in her hand triumphantly. Her victory was short-lived as the looming figure entered the room and grabbed hold of her body, turning it towards him.

"What the fuck do you think you're doin', you little shit?" the man asked angrily.

"I..." the little girl began, her wide eyes trembling back and forth. Because of her pause, the man shook her body hard, causing her to break into tears, which, in turn, made him even angrier.

"Can't you grow up?" She continued to cry, oblivious to what he was saying. All that she knew was that he was scaring her. "Stop cryin' or I'll give you a reason to cry!"

In the meantime, the other sister watched helplessly from behind the sofa, watched helplessly as her sister was tormented by their daddy. Her sister had warned her to not upset him, but now, look what had happened. She was getting punished...

The other girl continued to cry, continued to wish that he'd leave her alone. Instead, he threw her on the ground and yelled, "I warned you, you little brat!" Immediately, he slapped her in the face, knocking her back across the room. She felt the pain erupt through her head and screamed loudly, but he kept coming after her. Kicking, slapping, he wouldn't stop. She felt blow after blow pummel her poor, helpless body, and the only thing she could see through her tears was her sister staring in terror from afar. What did I do? she thought. I was good...I don't want to be a bad girl...

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Present day...

"So, he hit you because you were too loud?" Susan asked, disgusted, but awed at the same time.

The girl nodded, her brow curled in an expression of hatred. "Yeah, what a fucking riot, eh? The bastard always did like dishing it out on helpless little girls."

"Did he ever attack your sister?" Susan asked, jotting some notes down in her folder.

"What? Oh, yeah, you gotta be kidding. He liked to beat the living shit out of his entire family...my sister...and..." She paused. Susan noticed that the girl's hands curled into fists. "...and my mom."

"Tell me about your mom..."

Oh, here she goes, the girl thought disparagingly. Now she's definitely playing Miss Fucking Psycho-Bitch. I'll give her something to tell her little colleagues.

"What do you want to know, doctor? Wanna know if she beat me too? Or if she was having some sordid little affair on my dad? My mom the whore, right? Well, I hate to burst your little pathetic bubble, but she was just a normal homemaker. Took care of us, did the chores...all the fucking stuff those 1950s mothers did. As my dad put it, she 'knew her place and always kept her yap shut.'"

"And that means what exactly?"

"It means that she never complained, even when daddy dearest was kicking the shit out of me, my sister, or her."

"She never reported it to the police?"

"Hell no!" Dawn said, raising her voice. "She just couldn't build up the courage...initially at least...to take a stand. She'd have been out on the streets if she had left my dad."

Susan nodded, her interest now piqued. "But she did eventually leave, right?"

The girl's head hung, and Susan could see that the question had touched a nerve. When the girl spoke, her voice was in a hush. "Yeah...took my sister with her and left...I heard she went off to...New Jersey or New York or some crackpot place like that to stay with her sister."

"So, how come she didn't take you with her?"

"I..." the girl began, then said, "What the fuck kind of question is that to ask someone? Maybe because I'm bad and evil. Maybe she wanted me to suffer with that fucking excuse of a human being we called a father. She didn't care...she never even tried to come back for me...you should have seen that first night after she left...that son of a bitch had a field day with me..."

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Two years ago...

The shadows fell over her as the girl laid motionless in her bed. Except for the few beams of light from the street that broke through the Venetian blinds on her window, she was alone in absolute darkness. She had gone to bed hours ago, yet she was still awake, her face drenched with salty tears. Her mother and sister were gone...leaving her all alone with the vile beast. Why hadn't they taken her with them? The question made her nauseous, so she pushed it back into the deepest corner of her mind. Luckily, she had escaped punishment tonight by staying out of her father's way...needless to say, he had been extremely angry by his wife's abandonment. All she had heard from downstairs since going to bed was the loud clomping as he paced the entire first floor. Occasionally, something would break or he would bang against the wall, causing a loud thump, thump, thump that would radiate upstairs.

She blinked once and took in the silhouettes of the objects in her room...various trophies from sporting events, posters that hung on her walls, the lamp, dresser drawers...stuff that would be in any average girl's room. Yet she wasn't average or even normal. Not with the living situation she tolerated each day...

Suddenly, the pacing stopped downstairs, and she hoped he had had a heart attack and was even now lying on the floor, clutching his chest and taking his last breathes. Would serve that son of a bitch right...Unfortunately, her wishes were destroyed as she heard the loud clomping resume, but this time heading up the stairs...she heard each step closer and closer...the familiar creak on the fifth step as the floorboards bent under the weight...hopefully, he would just go to bed, and leave her alone...instead, she heard him reach the top of the stairs, but rather than heading in the opposite direction where his bedroom was (Where he had until recently shared the room with her mother), he began to walk in the direction of her room. Oh, no...

She flipped over in the direction away from the door and closed her eyes, waiting for the sound of the door being opened. Soon enough, her expectations were answered as she heard the knob turn with a soft click. Her body tensed as the light from the hallway covered her and she heard shuffling as her father approached the bed, then stopped. Even from where she was, she could smell the alcohol on his breath. He must have really gotten drunk tonight...wouldn't blame him in a way, I guess...She wondered why he just stood there silently, almost gave herself away, wanting to jump up and yell, "Just get it the fuck over with!"...but she didn't...

"I know yer still awake, ya little bitch...ya cheap little whore..." She flipped over and opened her eyes, looking at him angrily. He returned that gaze, and began to unbuckle his pants.

"You chased her away..." he stated. "Your fuckin' little acts finally drove her away...it's all yer fault..." She noticed the slurring in his voice, but paid more attention at the sight of his pants dropping. His boxers followed, and she was confronted again with the sight of his penis, already hard. She could feel the terror rise uittle acts finally drove her away...it's all yer fault..." She noticed the slurring in his voice, but paid more attention at the sight of his pants dropping. His boxers followed, and she was confronted again with the sight of his penis, already hard. She could feel the terror rise up in her as it had so many times. She knew what was coming, and she knew that there was no way of stopping it.

He slumped down on the bed next to her, and pulled the sheets away from her body. His eyes mapped her body with both lust and anger. "Ya were always a hot piece of ass though..." She wanted to run, to hide...or to kill him...but it was too late...His hands ripped at her sleeping top, pulling the cloth apart in one swift tear. His hands then drove to her breasts, roughly fondling her. She squealed in pain, then tried to stop herself as she knew what he'd do...too late. His fist slammed into her face, silencing her. He let one hand drape over her cheek, caressing it in a soft manner. He licked his lips and then eyed her bottom half. Tearing like a mad wolf, he ripped the material apart, then throwing it away in some other part of the room like a used tissue. She was naked, and tried to cover herself with her hands.

"Yer only makin' it harder on yerself..." He slapped her again and again and again. She could feel one eye swelling shut, and blood running down her chin. Without anything she could do to stop him, she finally pulled her hands away, resulting in a sick smile from her father. "That's a good girl...sweet, little girl..."

He positioned himself on top of her, his pelvis and weight grinding into her, forcing her to grunt. He didn't notice as he harshly shoved his hard penis into her and began to fuck her fast and rough. She closed her eyes and tried to ignore the pain, but the smell of sweat and sex filled her nostrils as did the sounds of sexual grunting coming from this animal. In his drunken state, it only took a few minutes before he shot his load into her, then slowly got off of her and, without a word, walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Once again, she felt violated, alone once more in the darkness. Cold and naked, she pulled the covers over top of her, and cried...cried all night long until she was swollen and hoarse...she felt another emotion rise up in her besides the hurt and sadness...hate...rage...undying longing to see her father pay for what he had done to her...

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Present day...

"So, he fucked me...big deal, right? Happens all the time..."

"It is a big deal, Dawn. You know you're father was a bad person. I know you do."

Instead of answering the doctor, Dawn smirked, which made Susan suddenly feel uncomfortable again. "Can I ask you a question, Dr..." She paused, but then accentuated the last part."...Daly?"

"S-Sure, what is it?" Susan stammered.

"Have..." the girl paused again, chuckling to herself, but then continued. "Have you ever been fucked so hard that you could feel the inside of your pussy rip to shreds?"

Susan's mouth dropped in shock, but Dawn was pleased with herself. Write that down in your notes, you bitch.

"What do you mean?" the doctor finally said, but still weak from the thought.

"Ah, it doesn't matter, but..." The girl smiled, thinking to herself, then said, "But you could ask your pal, Dr. Thompson. I'm sure he'd know what I was talking about..."

Susan had no idea what the girl was speaking of, but all she knew was that she felt the queasiness return, knew that she couldn't hold it any longer.

"I..." she started to say, but then jumped out of her chair and ran out of the room, leaving Dawn smiling to herself. Hmmm, she thought, I wonder what could have made her sick all of a sudden...

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Susan stood at the bathroom sink, looking at herself in the mirror, her face looking pale and chapped. She ran some water over her fingers and ran it along her mouth. Oh, God...she's just one girl...how could she have had that effect on me in the time of a few minutes? I have to get it together...

She took one final look at herself in the mirror, straightening out her clothes, then proudly stated to herself, "I'm not giving up yet...can't give up...not going to be beat..."

Walking out of the bathroom and back down the hall, she paused in front of the door to the room she had run out of, took a deep breath, and walked back in. As expected, Dawn turned when she heard the sound, and sneered. "Feeling better, doctor?" she asked mockingly.

Ignoring the girl's tone, Susan answered, "Much, thanks. It must have been the heat in here."

"Sure."

Sitting down at the table again, Susan said, "Okay, Dawn. You're making some good progress by discussing what you have already. Now, though, I think I'd like to try that hypnosis on you...if you don't mind."

"Whatever floats your boat," Dawn shrugged. Know-it-all bitch.

"I think this will be a good thing in discussing the night your father died...we've failed before just trying to talk about it, but this should allow your mind to be more open, okay?"

"Right. Let's just get this over with."

"All right, Dawn. I want you to close your eyes and just listen to the sound of my voice. Relax all parts of your body...erase all thoughts from your mind, except for the sound of my voice..."

Dawn did as she was told, reluctantly, but she felt she'd try to appease the doctor's ego. Within a few minutes, Susan was sure that the girl was under, but felt she'd test her anyway.

"Okay, Dawn, can you hear me?"

"Yes."

"Can you stick your arm out straight and hold it?"

The girl did so, and Susan leaned over and tried pushing with all of her might. Nonetheless, the girl's arm did not bend, so Susan sat back down satisfied that the girl was not awake.

"All right...we'll start off easy...I want you to think of your house...picture the windows, the door...everything...Can you see it?"

"Yes," the girl answered flatly.

"Good. Now...picture yourself inside the house...as you were that night...Can you do that?"

"Yes."

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One year ago...

The girl sat on the couch, tears running down her face. She waited anxiously for her father to finish talking with the cops. On the floor next to her, a bag rested against the soft material of the couch. She knew that inside contained the essentials she would have needed to go out on her own. Unfortunately, she hadn't made it too far before the police had found her on the streets wandering aimlessly. They'd brought her home...her dad hadn't even known she was missing...she wasn't sure the cops had noticed, but she had definitely noticed the rage in his eyes when he had opened the door and seen her standing there helplessly with two cops behind her...

Behind her, the front door closed, and she heard her father clearing his throat as he stood in the hallway. Then, he walked into the room and sat down in a chair across from her, his face buried in his hands. She waited, waited for the explosion, but all that came was a soft voice.

"Do you have any idea what you've done? Do you ever have any idea what you do?"

He sat up and looked at her. She opened her mouth, but said nothing.

"Answer me when I talk to you."

"I just thought--"

"You 'thought?'" he interrupted, his voice now rising. She knew it had only been a matter of time. "Since when do you think?"

"More than you do," she muttered softly.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

"Bitch," he spat bitterly. Then, he gestured to her. "Come here."

She hesitated, remaining in her seat, but he spoke more angrily, "Get your ass over here now." She slowly stood up and walked over to him, but still keeping a small distance between the two of them. This apparently angered him because he then reached out and grabbed her wrist harshly and yanked her towards him. "You're a conniving little bitch, aren't you?"

"Apparently you think so..."

He sat back shocked. "So, you finally have a mouth on you, huh? Gives me more of a reason to beat the shit out of you." With that, he slapped her face hard enough to move her head. "You like that, don't you?" He slapped her again...and again...

"Stop it..." she muttered.

"What's that?" He slapped her again.

"Stop!"

"Why should I?" he asked, smirking at her.

"Because..."

He waited for her to answer. "Because why, sweetheart?"

"Because...because I'll kill you if you don't."

He sat still, staring at her, her words slowly rushing over his brain. Then, he chuckled, which then turned into a full-blown laugh.

"You'll...hahahaha...you'll kill...hehehe...kill me?! Oh, that's...hahaha...rich..."

"Stop laughing at me..." she muttered softly. He continued to laugh, this time so hard that he let her go. She felt the anger well up from her insides, felt the fury she had held within her for so long begin to boil to the surface...rising...rising...her insides felt like fire...painful at first, but then oddly soothing...this feeling spread to her skin as she watched her father laugh at her. It hurt...hurt so much, but she felt like she was going to explode if she didn't let it out...his face...so hurtful...so humiliating...she hated him...hated him so much...fire...pain...hurt...

"STOP LAUGHING AT ME!" she yelled loudly as the damn broke and she exploded into flames, causing part of the room to shatter into a million pieces. Her father was sent flying out through the window into the lawn in front of the house. She walked slowly, but purposefully outside towards the now moving body. It struggled to stand up, now covered in several first-degree burns.

She stood over him, her body radiating in various reds, yellows, and oranges. He felt the heat from her absorbing into his skin, felt the searing pain. He looked up at her, and asked in a weak whisper, "Why?"

She sneered evilly and insanely at him, and answered in a dark, bitter tone as she took hold of his arm, "Because I can..."

He began to scream as the smell of charring flesh erupted into the air. The flames spread through his entire body as flesh melted away revealing bone fragments. Soon, though, there was nothing left but a smoldering pile of charred mush on the grass. Looking down, she took a small amount of satisfaction in his death, but that was interrupted by the pain that ran through her, forcing her to the grass. Her flame faded, leaving only a naked girl lying in the fetal position and whimpering in fear and pain...

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Present day...

Dawn keeled over in her chair as the pain rushed through her. Amidst her screams, Susan could hear her muttering, "Oh, God...I remember...I...remember..."

Seeking to protect and calm the girl, Susan ran over to the other side of the table, attempting to cradle the girl in her arms. "It's okay," she whispered soothingly. "It'll all be--"

Before she could finish, Susan screamed as she felt a searing pain rush through her body, like none she had ever experienced before. Looking down at her body, she saw smoke rising up from her skin...noticed the same coming from Dawn...She keeled over on the floor as she felt her flesh melt away. She attempted to scream for help, attempted to claw for sanctuary, but by then it was too late...The last thoughts that passed through Susan Daly's mind as she died a smoldering heap like Dawn's father had a year before were of what Sam Thompson had said earlier that day about how trying to save this girl would kill her. Apparently, he had been right...

As the once clawing body of Susan Daly rested in a heap on the tile floor, Dawn felt her body finally explode, revealing her true form that she had denied the last year. At that instant, the force exploded from within the room, flames erupting throughout the institute, destroying the souls that were locked within. In the span of two minutes, the once large building was reduced to cinder and ash...as were the souls that had resided within.

Outside, the recent coming of night and the pitch black that had dominated it were extinguished by the glowing flames that remained around the debris of the Anthony B. Thompson Institute for the Criminally Insane. In the rubble, glowing and laughing in the destruction, one lone figure stood...and another...

"W-What do you want from me?" Sam Thompson stuttered in pure terror as the flaming figure approached him. His left leg was now nothing but a memory, and his body was covered with scabs and burns.

"What do I want?" the glowing figure asked, somewhat amused. "I want death for child molesters like yourself..."

"W-w-what are you talking about? Me?" Sam asked, chuckling, but in pain.

"Yes...don't think I haven't heard you in the halls talking to the guards about your 'hot weekends with your ten-year old niece.' About how you 'fucked her all night long until she screamed.' You're a sick man, doctor...I'm doing you a favor..."

"H-how's that?" the man asked, trembling.

"By giving you what you wanted...a 'hot' weekend."

She grabbed hold of him, closing her eyes, and felt his flesh melt around her body, heard his screams echo through her ears. Laughing, as the pile of burned flesh fell, she said, "It's Friday, doctor...have a 'hot' weekend."

Then, as quickly as it had come, the sick humor left her and she stood silently, burning like a star gone nova, in the remainder of what was once a trashcan for the insane. She walked slowly and steadily into the grassy hills, towards where she thought the road would be...she knew what she had to do now...not only to punish the evil men of the world, but to find her sister and mother...they too must know what she had gone through...Very soon, the entire world would know the undying power...and the coming of Dawn...

The End?

Well, this is it, faithful readers. If you're still with us by this point, then you have made it through what could be considered a disturbing addition to MV1. The idea of this story came to me one day out of nowhere...I think I was reading the Arkham Asylum trade paperback for DC when I thought it would be cool to do something about a crazy person. Well, day by day, the character of Dawn came to me, and I knew that it could fit into plans I'm doing down the road. Trust me, when I say that this is definitely not the end. She'll be showing up again in some form or another. But, anyway, I'd like to thank Sam for allowing me to do this story, though it may push a few buttons, but I'm hoping not.