Chapter Text
Chrissy kept hitting the punchbag over and over, sweat glistening down her back, making a loud grunt when she landed a harder punch. Memories soon swam round in her head yet again. You see normal people have good memories, childhood, school, making friends, baking with mom. Chrissy had grown up in all the wrong ways, her mum was a junky and a whore, her father was the pimp, providing a plentiful supply of customers and drugs. When she was 7 she managed to crawl out of a small back window and she ran. The 3 huge pit bulls howled and barked, yanking the huge metal chains they had round their massive necks. He had always kept those huge fucking dogs, he would scoop her up and dangle her legs over the fence which housed them, she would kick and scream as she could feel the snapping just under her feet.
She heard a voice and a clank of the chains, "GO SICKEM FELLAS!" her heart raced as she knew they wouldn't be far behind. She ran as fast as she could, but the ground was full of sharp stones and glass. Her breath being bitten by the icy wind. "COME HERE YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE FUCK!", the snarling dogs cornered her and a huge hand grabbed her tatty t shirt collar and she was dragged back, screaming, but nobody listened, nobody cared. The beating was hard, cruel and unforgiving.
The bag swung hard and with one last punch her little finger was dislocated, she fell to her knees, broken once again.
"Again Chrissy!!!" one of the doctors at the hospital popped her finger back in the socket, she winced as he let go. "You really need to find an easier hobby sweetheart" She didn't like men, especially loud ones, to be fair it was safe to say that she'd never had a relationship.... Ever! She hurried to get her hoodie on and walked quickly down the corridor, next minute bashing into a man dressed in deep crimson robes "Watch were your going PREIST!!" almost spitting at him. She hated the church, in one of her foster homes religion was rammed so hard down her throat that it made her convulse to even step into a church, "Mi dispiciace molto O" (I'm so very sorry) and kept watching as she disappeared through the large revolving door.
The water in the shower was welcoming and comforted her, David Gray was playing on her radio and she relaxed. That feeling started to rise again, her lip curled into a cold smile, someone was going to die tonight, A voice in her head repeatedly spoke "Time to play, all night to slay" she began to shake and the whites of her eyes rolled back into her head, then darkness.