Waiting by Erin Dennington ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Prologue He waited. Everyone around him talked, filling the ancient train with a stench far worse than what the opened doors let in. The women in front of him, of some kind of Indian group, chattered away in their native language. He didn't much care for non-natives, but the lack of coherent conversation meant that his mind could now focus on his goal. He was going to meet his daughter, and after seeing her for the first time in 15 years, he was going to kill her. "It'll hurt you worse than it will hurt me," he thought ruefully. The thought amused him as it crossed his mind, bringing a wry smile to his lips. There was no use wondering how she had faired over the past 20 years or whether she took after him. Where she was concerned, there was an emptiness within him that he had learned to ignore over the years. It was as it should be. The train jerked and rumbled as it slowed to a stop. The man looked up as a woman brushed by him, her hand striking his shoulder as she hopped off the train. A stinging sensation swept down the side of his arm, radiating downward from the place where she had touched him and ending in his fingers. 13:46 - 11.05.02 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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