Revenge isn't for the innocent

I've been watching unusual folks crossing the desert for as long as I can remember, but none so unusual as the little girl covered in blood, staggering so helplessly through the sand.

"I take it you're lost," I call out to her, right before she finally crumples to the floor. Okay, so now I better step in, I think to myself as I run as fast as I can to reach her in time. Two fingers to her neck, a soft beat, beat, so I let out a sigh that this is still a child and not yet a corpse.

I carry her into the town, all whilst knowing full well how ridiculous I look to my ever so curious spectators. I think I could carry a crocodile less awkwardly than a little girl as fragile as this one. Of course the blood that covers her up to her face also seems to catch some attention, as many gasp or even shriek with horror. People didn't find me very approachable before, let alone now.

"Finally decided to become a lone daddy Carson?" Teases one of the drunks stumbling past me. Not just any drunk: My neighbour Hank. Typically terrified of me, unless he's had something to drink- that's when he likes to get bold, like right now.

I tighten my grip of the little one with one arm so I can use my spare to punch the daylights out of Hank. As the blood pours from his nose I feel inclined to regret my brutality, but I just can't make myself. Being teased about being a lone father isn't something I could take lightly after my beautiful wife, Annie. But I don't like to think about it too much. I can't think about it too much.

Once I finally reach the safety of my own home at the very end of the village, I can't help but feel a little uncertain in my decision to bring this poor girl here instead of a doctor. But then again this village's doctor is a bit of a crook if you ask me, he probably just puts water into medicine bottles before taking your money and getting you out before you can ask any real questions.

I decide to leave the kid on my sofa, the damn cushions make a dust cloud from me simply laying her on it. Damn it I wish I could clean like Annie could. Wait no, bad Carson, don't ever think about-

"Who are you?" I turn suddenly to the little girl, now sitting up on the sofa. Her big brown eyes are wide and petrified, and I can't say I blame her.

"Howdy, how are you feelin'?" Be warm Carson, be gentle.

"I'm fine. Can I go please Sir?" Now she's shaking.

"I'm not keeping you here," I assure, though she doesn't look sure. "But I have to ask, what were you doing out there covered in blood?" She just shrugs and stares down at my musty carpet, as if it was the thing trying to converse with her and I was just a bug interrupting.

I try to hide my slight annoyance as I come up with a new idea and quickly go to my kitchen. When I return with fresh bread to bribe the mite, she's not where I left her. Now, I hear clawing at my front door and I know what's going on.

"I'm not 'nabbing you kiddo. I promise. I'll open the door for you right now if you want." I tell her honestly.

"Well I do want sir," she answers, tears now streaming down those rosy cheeks. Little ones are so emotional like that.

"Okay, if you say so." I open my door for her with ease.

This is for the best. I'm no sheriff or samaritan; I'm just the moody man who lives alone in a village full of irritating people. Why should I help out this shaky little weed anyway? She definitely don't want none, that's for sure.

All whilst I'm thinking these things to myself, she's taking in the world outside my door. But she doesn't take a step out of it. People even start to look back at her from the street, the nosy one I mentioned before. Bloodsuckers.

"I told you, you're free to go." I repeat for her. She mumbles something.

"What, I can't hear ya'?"

"I want to stay... Please Sir?" She looks up at me with big brown eyes. Like a small puppy dog.

"If you say so," I shrug, closing the door with an efficient slam.

She wanders helplessly back to my old, dusty sofa and collapses in defeat, so I hold the bread out. She doesn't waste time trying to squish the whole thing into her mouth.

"So then... What's your name?"

"Bonnie," she muffles, spitting breadcrumbs everywhere.

"Well Bonnie, I'm Carson. Now where's your family?"

"Gone." She stuffs more bread in, her sentence done.

"I see..." -Though clearly I don't- "Gone where?"

Suddenly her eyes fill with tears and her nose starts to twitch like a little rabbit.

"They stopped running," she cries. "They should have never stopped running Mr Carson." Now her shoulders shake.

"You kept running then, did you Bonnie?"

"Yes, or I'd be g-gone too."

"The one who killed them, what did they look like?"

"I couldn't see; there was blood in my eyes. I just kept running away from the gun's scream." She hugs her knees to her chest and starts to rock back and forth. I wish I knew what to do, I wish Annie- no.

"What can I do Bonnie?" Is all I can say.

"Let me stay. I'll be good- I'll clean your house Mr Carson." She begged.

"I don't know, I should really take you to our sheriff to sort you out."

"No!" She yelps in alarm, clinging to my arm. "I'll be good- really good Mr Carson. No sheriffs, they're scary." I take in the fear in her eyes and can't help but sigh; I don't think I have a choice in this.

"You can stay. But be useful." She flings her arms around me and squeezes my neck tight enough for my face to turn purple.

She'll stay for a while and then get bored. She'll leave me for someone more cut out for this. I know it.

A year later:

"Dad, Dad, Dad, wake up... Wake up!" Bonnie begs as she shakes me from my slumber.

"What's wrong- who's died?" I flap, leaning up instantly.

"I had a bad dream," she shrugs. I can't stop my sigh. "I'm sorry, I'll go back to bed." She says, sticking out her bottom lip and slouching.

"No, no, it's fine." She takes that to mean jump onto me and steal the blanket. She rocks back and forth.

"I keep dreaming about that day. It feels so real," she admits.

"Sometimes our dreams aren't very nice to us Bon. They show us things that we don't wanna see and won't do us any good." I explain.

"I wish I hadn't run away," she mumbles.

"If you'd have stayed you'd be dead," I say simply.

"But at least I would've gone to heaven with them," she murmurs. But it wasn't your time I want to tell her, but I don't. I can't tell her that I'm secretly glad that I got her, even though it took hell itself for her to get to me.

"Do you believe in heaven Dad?" She asks with sudden curiosity.

"I believe there could be something else yeah, but I also think we can't confuse theories with facts. No one will ever know what happens till you go, you know?"

"Do you think the monster's in hell?" She finally asks.

"What monster?"

"The one who took my family?" Bonnie's lip quivers.

"I think wherever they are they're alone. People like that never find good people to care about them."

"I want to make them pay for it. For taking everyone from me."

"But what good does revenge do Bon?" She doesn't answer, her eyes are closed and her snores are soft.

5 years later:

"Tell me he was fibbing Dad," Bonnie hisses from the doorway.

Five years of teaching her how to ride a horse, to cook, to hunt. Five years of bedtimes and wake up times. Five years of her telling every kid in her class at school that I'm her Dad. Five years have gone by like five seconds and if I had to make a deal with the devil to go back to the start and do it all again, then I would.

"Fibbing about what Bon?" The nine year-old who is now the fourteen year-old stays in the shadows, whilst I sip my beer from our living room. I can still make out the glint in her eyes though.

"He told me you killed people." She forces out. Damn it.

"Who told you?"

"Hank. He was talkin' weird stuff."

"He was just drunk Bonnie, nothin' for you to worry your mind about." I explain as smoothly as I can.

"But was he lying? Jessie told me drinking makes people honest."

"Jessie's parents are both drunks, she has to find some kinda positive in drinking to make herself feel better."

"Liar."

Her tone isn't something I recognise from my sweet, cuddly Bonnie. It's all cold and full of hate. Maybe now is the time to tell her.

"Bonnie sit down for me please." She reluctantly comes into the light and takes a cautious seat. I don't like how she's looking at me but I push on. "Do you ever wonder why you don't have a mother?"

"I know why, I saw her go." She shrugs.

"Okay, but did you ever wonder why you didn't get a new mother too when you got a new dad?" I ask patiently.

"A little bit, yeah," she confesses it like it's a betrayal to me.

"Well it's because I also had to watch her go." I finally tell her.

There's a silence between us and I hate the tension. It feels awkward, like we're back to being strangers.

"Is she the one you killed?" She finally says.

"No, no, she's not," I assure, but my daughter's guard doesn't drop. "I killed the people that took her from me. There was an accident with this group's horse; they took the beast off its reign and it went for my wife Annie whilst we were walking by. It ran right into her and took the breath right from her lungs." To my horror I feel a dampness in my face, and realise a tear or two has escaped from my eyes.

"So you started shooting at them? The group." Bonnie cuts in, her tone emotionless.

"Yes," I admit shamefully. "I blacked out and I lost all control of myself. I don't even remember most of that day because I was so out of it. But I know the bodies I left behind. No survivors," Feel my face crumpling as the truth finally escapes. This poor girl. I shoulda' never kept her. I shoulda' given her to an honest family, one that wouldn't have made her listen to such a story. To such a monster. To such a-

The safety on the gun is taken off, in the delicate, little hand of my Bonnie as she aims it at my heart. I scan her eyes in shock, but there's nothing really in them to find.

"Bonnie... Put the gun down." I manage.

"There was a survivor," she whispers. My heart drops into my stomach at the memory of that suffering excuse of a day. Maybe I didn't get every one of 'em. Maybe a little girl covered in her own family's blood managed to escape the monster.

"It can't be true," I whisper. " I found you years after it happened, and you were still covered in blood."

"It never washed out. You never faded." She explains numbly.

"Put the gun down Bonnie." I beg. She just smiles numbly.

"I never thought it could be you. But I made myself a promise that day. I would find the one who did this and I would make them bleed the way my mother and father did all those years ago, the blood that stained my only clothes for years." A tear falls down her face.

"You don't want this Bonnie please. You're too young to chase for revenge like this. You're too innocent."

"You can't win without sacrificing a little bit. Revenge isn't for the innocent Mr Carson. You know that by now." With that my daughter, or rather my surviving victim fires the gun.

I'd spent a lot of time thinking about my Annie whilst I watched people crossing the desert. I thought of what she'd think if she knew how much blood I'd got on my hands, the second the lights went out of her eyes. Could she even love me still? But a strange little girl covered in blood is what finally got me back to my present time. I'd never seen anyone that strange cross our lands before.

And from the cold look in her eyes as she stands over my dying body, I'd say with much certainty that I don't think I ever will.