Introduction

Isn’t it fun to look back to your childhood and relive the dreams you had. When I was a little girl, I had always wanted to be a ballet dancer. I could see myself, twirling around on stage, moving with the grace of a summer’s day breeze. My shoes would click as I whirled around and I could hear the audience clap as I landed yet another assemblè. I would move about the stage, soaking up the lights and camera flashes. When my recital was through, everyone would stand and cheer and throw bouquets of roses to my feet.

Sadly, it was only ever a dream. I never did get to dance; when I was ten, my mother lost her battle with breast cancer. My father moved me far away from home and we found ourselves living in a tiny town that was stuck in the ways of the wild west.

Together, my father and I established a good reputation for breeding only the best of horses. I spent my childhood years following my father around, helping him do the chores.

He taught me to ride and to respect the powerful creatures we raised. My dreams of ballet eventually faded and were replaced with excitement to train and race horses.

Mistakenly, somewhere around the time I turned sixteen, I decided that horses were lame and I wanted nothing to do with them anymore. My father was crushed, he hated that I never wanted to help him anymore. Soon, his disappointment turned to anger; this anger lead to violence. One night, while in a drunken rage, he violated me.

I remember running away minutes after with tears streaming down my face. I could hear him yelling blasphemous things about me and told me never to come back to his house again.

I then lived with foster parents a couple of towns away. They treated me with respect and love, but I hated them.

They saw the world as if it were all rainbows and butterflies. When they weren’t in my business, they were usually off baking or shopping for me. I know that what they were doing was supposed to make me feel happier about my life, but honestly, it made things worse.

After high school, I drifted around from town to town. I didn’t have a permanent home.  Some nights I stayed at a hotel or with guys who brought me to their beds. Occasionally I slept on the first park bench I found. Every night, I blamed my father for ruining my life, for throwing away my dreams.

With every guy that paid me for services, I blamed my father for making me the whore I was. He was the reason I was angry and upset; all I wanted was revenge for what he did to me.

One blissful spring day, I woke up feeling relieved. I had just spent another night in a grungy hotel; however, there seemed to be something different about that day. Amazingly, it turned out that night was when my father died. He had a massive heart attack, and with no one there to help him, he died painfully and slowly. When I found out, I couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear. He finally got what he deserved, I had never felt such a sweet sensation.

When he left this world, he left all of his goodies behind. I inherited everything; the horse farm, the house, and all of his horses. All I had to do was go to Lasko and pick it up.

My name is Kali Fisk, and this is where the real story begins.

Chapter One