Prologue Part IIII Adelaide Lovelace Even in Death

It was hard for me to believe that such a brilliant, handsome man like my father could be so cruel. No one ever knew what he did to me…or my mother.

One night, Mama and I heard loud footsteps on the front porch, and a rambunctious laughter as something crashed. Mama shooed me upstairs, following closely. We locked ourselves in my bedroom and huddled together on my bed, listening…barely daring to breathe.

“Mama,” I whispered.

“Shh.” She held her hand lightly over my face, then slowly slid off the bed and stood, her skits following her and swishing around her legs as she tiptoed to the door.

“Mama. Don’t go!” She smiled at me, such a pretty sad smile, and left the room, closing the door behind her. I rushed over to it, but I didn’t dare open it.

I heard Daddy’s loud, drunken voice, and then Mama’s soft, soothing one. She was trying to get Daddy into bed, but he wouldn’t listen. His voice kept getting louder and louder, and then I heard a sharp slap that made the hairs on my arms stand straight. Mama’s sobbing reached me next, then a thud against my door. “Ada, stay put,” her voice shook beside me. I wanted to open the door, but her weight on it prevented e from doing so.

I heard receding pounds then, and Mama shifted away from the door so I could open it. “Mama!” I literally fell over her; she was crumpled just outside my door. Her face was bruised and tearstained, but she still managed to smile at me as she hugged me tightly.

Then he came back. I hadn’t heard him, but I saw his shadow as he steamily ascended the stairs again. Something hissed quietly, and Mama quickly shoved me away form her as the cobra struck and Daddy swung the steel pipe down at us.

The snake withered harmlessly away, but Daddy swung the pipe again, striking Mama’s head and then her gut, knocking her backwards and down the steps. I tired to get up, but a heavy boot fell on my chest. “See what you made me do?” he spat angrily. I didn’t recognize, him, really. His eyes were glazed and crazy and his voice wasn’t warm and comforting as I remembered.

The pipe connected with my shoulder, causing me to scream as it fell out of place.

He struck me again and again, my legs and arms and stomach, ignoring my cres and pleas to stop. At one point he kicked me over, and I spat blood on the floor. ‘Not again, please not now…’

I don’t remember him dropping his weapon, but then his hand was closed around my throat and he was hauling me upright. I was small for my age, and he lifted my nearly a foot off the floor so we were nose-to-nose. “You make me sick.” His hand clenched, my vision blurred. ‘Mama...’

With his hands around my throat, I passed away.