The young girl loaded the ancient revolver and grabbed her backpack. With a determined look in her eye that her mother would have been proud of, she set off towards the woods. Hanging out of her pocket was a map that her mother had drawn as a kid.
“Next stop, Dead Man’s Bluff.” She muttered to herself as she began her hike. It was a slow and tedious trek, but an hour later, she could see the camper. She stopped long enough to steel her frayed nerves and continued. Straight up the steps and into the dilapidated camper, Alex marched. She was shocked, though, to find it empty. She just stood there, the realization slowly soaking into her revenge-bent mind. He wasn’t there! She had primed herself to do it and he wasn’t even there! Then a gasp came from behind her and a man’s voice rang out.
“Taylor?” Slowly, Alex turned, her heart thudding in her ears. She dropped her backpack at the sight of him. She could see why her mother got that far away look in her eyes when she talked of him. Back when her mother was younger, he must have been incredibly handsome. He was studying her closely. Her eyes were the same, ice-blue as his, her legs were long like his, and she had the very same crooked nose. This must have been his baby girl. Seven years old and already as strong physically as Jack had been and as strong emotionally as her mother.
“No, I’m Alexandria Marie Johnson. You must be Jack.” She glared at him, a hereditary facial expression from his side. His heart actually chilled at the sight of her cold glare.
“Mmm… Coming to fulfill your mother’s dreams?” He hid the fear that she would actually finish him off.
“Something like that.” She muttered as she pulled out the revolver, the very same one he had once given Taylor as a 15th birthday present. She brought it up and aimed, her hand not once shaking. Her voice refused to break as she spoke.
“You are a rapist and you have attempted to murder my mother several times. You deserve the death penalty and nothing less than that.” Her voice was just like Taylor’s, and she had definitely inherited the big speeches from her mother. He closed his eyes and thought of Taylor at that age, so young, so enjoyable. Quickly he leaned toward his daughter and grabbed the barrel of the six shooter.
Sticking the gun between his eyes, he whispered, “If you have the guts, then do it.”
“Go to Hell, Jack” She gritted her teeth and squeezed the trigger. The resounding gunshot scared flocks of birds away from the camper and left her ears ringing.
Wiping the blood from her face she said, “I have more balls than you, Dad.” She spit on his face and left. Jack’s ice-blue eyes still held traces of his last smile as they stared at the ceiling, unable to see.