Darkest Powers fanfiction
EVERYONE'S SECRET
Derek Souza/OC: Mary Ralluber
Author's Note: Okay, I know, I know; I am starting waaaaay too many fanfics. But I'm super hooked on the Darkest Powers series and I've been forming this story in my mind for a while. And I just HAD to write something about Derek. I LOVE him. Seriously, I want to marry him. xD Okay, that's a bit extreme, but whatever. (Don't worry, Jagger, I'm still in love with you too. ^-^) Anyway, read and review, please, and I hope you enjoy! Another chapter of Plastic Promises is coming soon. I actually think I'm going to write it right after I post this. (Oh, and by the way, this takes place pre-The Summoning, as in, before Chloe comes to Lyle House.) Thanks and enjoy!
Prologue.
Ralluber Ranch is anything but that: a ranch. It was quiet and isolated, but the large land was dry and dead. There was no possible way anything could grow on the wide patch of dirt ever again. The stables were empty of any horses and cows, and they always had been. Down the dirt road was a small ranch house, the white paint peeling in rolls and wood bitten into by termites.
The ranch wasn't desolate, and it held many horrors that were very alive and fresh.
A young girl the age of sixteen stumbled into the combined dining room and kitchen area, not catching her fall as she collided into the small wooden table, snapping its feeble legs and crashing to the ground. The full moon's light shined through the dirty windows, illuminating the scene.
Behind the girl stomped a large burly man with black untamed hair and a full beard of stubble. His heavy boots made the dust from the floorboards rise with each step. His beady black eyes glared icily at the girl on the ground, and his large hands curled into fists.
"Now you're destroying the furniture! Fiona, you better get your ass up from the ground and do as I say!" he roared, looming over the girl. She glared bright green eyes just as icy back at him.
"Stop calling me Fiona! I'm not my mother! You better back the hell up if you know what's good for you," she spat, crawling away. The table broke into pieces underneath her palms. She stood and clenched her own fists. The man snarled.
"Damn it, Fiona. If you don't get over here in the count of three, you're going to be really sorry," he growled threateningly.
"My name is Mary! Stop …"
"One …" he began to count.
"… calling …"
"Two …"
"… me …"
"Three!"
"… Fiona!"
The man bolted for the girl, teeth bared and lips pulled into a nasty sneer. He uncurled his fist, flashing long claws, and swiped them across the girl's face. His nails caught her cheek but the girl ignored the pain searing through her face. She ducked another swipe from the man and bolted out behind him, running for the back door.
He'd been drinking again, and, for someone like him, that wasn't good. Ever since Fiona had died, his drinking habits had gotten worst and he'd been releasing his rages out on Mary. He just couldn't blame himself for anything he'd done. That, or he couldn't admit it. He refused to face Fiona's death, especially because he was the one who'd killed her. Unfortunately Mary was practically the spitting image of her mother, which drove the man insane.
She didn't have to turn around to know he was hot on her heels. He reached out for her shoulder, Mary feeling his sweaty, calloused hand grasping it, and pulled her back. She flew back a few feet and collided with the fading floral wall, wallpaper only found in a ranch house.
She moaned quietly before dodging another attack and throwing a punch of her own. Her fist made contact with his jaw and he stumbled back. She punched him again, this time in the nose, a quiet crack sounding. The man roared with pain, clutching his nose.
"Fiona … you … bitch," he muttered. Mary glared and kneed him in the groin and pushed him to the ground. There the man stayed for a while, moaning in pain.
Mary stole a glance from the antique mirror on the wall. She was a very beautiful girl with emerald gems for eyes and long, glossy, black hair that fell down her back. She was of short stature, but her body was fully developed, maybe a little more than developed. Her chest was large and her hips were wide, and she had even hit puberty at a very young age. She remembered getting her first period when she was nine years old and how her mother almost freaked out, since she knew it was much too early for her daughter to be going through puberty. Little did she know that her daughter wasn't an average girl.
Mary stared at the gash on her face and gently touched around it. It stung and bled, blood running down her neck and soaking the neck of her white shirt.
Many would wonder how on Earth a small girl like Mary could take down a large fully grown man. The two of them knew the answer to that.
"M-mary …" moaned the man, spitting out blood onto the floor. He staggered as he tried to stand, grasping the nearby wall for support. Mary backed away from him, her fingers curled.
"Finally got my name right, huh? You still better back away," she warned. He stood and faced her, squaring his shoulders and ignoring the blood pouring from his broken nose.
"We don't need to do this," he said.
"I'm leaving. I'm sick of this. You killed Mom because she found out, and now you're a mess. I don't want to live with this anymore," she said, slowly backing away. Each step she took, though, the man took another one forward.
"You ain't going nowhere, Mary," he snarled.
"Try me."
The man stumbled forward, reaching for her again, but Mary moved out of his reach. She pushed him down and he stayed there. The booze was swimming in his brain, draining all ounce of sense he had.
She stood over him, glowering. "You're hopeless. What a pitiful excuse for a father," she murmured acidly.
"You won't last," Mary's father chuckled humorlessly, flashing his bloody teeth. "The others will eat you alive."
She rolled her eyes. "As if. If I need to do any killing, I'll succeed. After all, I learned from the best." Disgust spread across her face as she looked at him. She backed away and ran to fetch her running-away bag.
"Mary!" shouted her father, helplessly. Mary ignored him and darted out the backdoor. "Mary!"
She was gone.