Joanna

Father took one arm, her brother the other. Although she'd promised not to struggle, a vow she'd sincerely meant to uphold, something akin to panic churned the acid in her gut, and began to quickly scale the imagined ridges in her chest, clawing at her throat, and finally bursting out as a desperate echo vibrating across the stone walls and dark tunnels they led her through.

"Daddy, I'll be good! Please, please, I'll be good this time!"

Father tightened his hold, an indian burn branded on her pale flesh, while her brother forced a hand upon her mouth, muffling her cries. She leaned back and forced her legs out, trying to prevent the forward motion, bare feet fighting against the cold, damp stone. Brother kicked at her spine and her knees slackened, her body dragged through the tunnel, curious rats darting out to sniff her feet and nibble on the passing toes.

"Daddy, please..." She whimpered, head bowed, her body dragged, and there were growing whispers emerging from the cold darkness.

They reached the end, where the moonlight streamed from somewhere high above, a single bolt of white light hitting the raised pedestal of white marble stone. Brother grunted as he grabbed her around the waist and hoisted her up, dropping her on the marble. Her arms shot to wrap around his neck, an energy that had been hidden now rippling through her body, and he cried out in shock at the tightened hold she had on him, her legs rising to wrap themselves around his back.

"Please, brother, please..." She kissed him hard and firm against his mouth, his struggle and Father's shout exciting her pulse, the blood rush churning in her head, everything heated and glorious.

"Let him go!" Father's voice was thunder, the pounding of rain, lightening crinkling inside his throat.

She laughed, releasing Brother, and too late Father realized his mistake. He clutched at his chest, and then his hands leaped to his throat, as if to intending to strangle himself.

"Joanna, please - !"

She sucked in the air, she inhaled the dampness and cold draft and darkness. Father fell to his knees, heaving and gasping and pleading with dark eyes up towards her, gaping like a fish out of water, trying to plead, trying to shout, trying to cry, trying to curse her.

When all breath left his body, Joanna looked over at her brother, a dagger raised in his trembling hand, the moonlight striking the sharp blade. "I would have been good," She insisted, pouting. "You believe me, don't you, brother?"