Thread:DuelingArtist777/@comment-3087943-20120627204425/@comment-3087943-20120722163842

That was the last of them. From that moment on, life was different for us. So wished Abigail as she watched the newscast of three men being hauled off to spend the rest of their lives incarcerated for their involvement in the death of her parents. She breathed an imaginary sigh of relief as she envisioned the life she could enjoy now that her parents killers were behind bars. If only it were that simple, Abigail thought, knowing she’d walked on the path of hatred for too long to just suddenly start living merrily. As the broadcast of the trial came to a close, Abigail remembered that fateful day, twelve years ago in the Gulf of Oman, when her world had been shattered. Abigail Parker was a ten-year-old girl aboard the megayacht SS Amundsen. Her parents were moguls of the arms industry, and for the first time since their ascension from small-business owners to billionaire industrialists, her parents were taking a much-needed holiday. On this particular afternoon, the glistening turquoise waters of the Oman gulf seemed inviting to the young girl. She changed into her favorite swimsuit, and ten minutes later, she was a hundred yards away from the Amundsen, Abigail was quite a strong swimmer, and had no difficulty with the currents of the Gulf. She thought of how lucky she was to be spending the summer in Arabia, when suddenly, a massive ball of flame erupted from the Amundsen, the orange conflagration sending billowing black smoke into the sky. With a muffled thump and maelstrom of foam amidships, the yacht buckled, her back broken. Three minutes later she was gone. Abigail felt as if she were choking on her acrid memories of that day as she remembered the dolorous news that came afterwards. The explosion had been no accident, the authorities said. Abigail remembered how that tragedy had transformed her into a nihilistic, amoral vixen and how she had been ostracized afterwards because of it. But at least she’d gotten her revenge. The years she’d spent doggedly pursuing the people who had slain her family had paid off. Her troubles were finally over. Or so she thought. Later that day, Abigail, sauntered along one of the many hallways of the palatial estate she resided in, having inherited it after her parent’s untimely death. She happened to pass by a mirror and inspected her reflection. Her long brown hair, porcelain complexion and perfect figure stared back at her. Satisfied, Abigail walked to her room and picked up a small wooden box with a silver rose emblazoned on it. She opened it and lifted out a necklace. It had belonged to her mother, and she reminisced about the lovely times she’d spent with her parents. As Abigail was putting the chain back, her hand brushed against what felt like a latch on the underside of the box. Curious, she inspected it. She pulled the latch down and the bottom of the box opened, revealing a secret compartment! Abigail pushed her hand inside the opening and pulled out a piece of paper. When she looked at it, she saw that it had her father’s handwriting on it. Her interest aroused, Abigail began to read the document aloud. ”My dearest Abby, if you are reading then you must know that I am dead. I am not sure of the circumstances of my death, but I am sure of one thing; it was the work of Vivian Alvarez, who has been plotting to slaughter your mother and me, in order to take our riches for her own. Whatever happens, my love, do not allow yourself to fall into the clutches of that wretch. She will only bring harm to you. Love, Dad.” Abigail didn’t understand what her father meant at first, but the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. Vivian Alvarez was an old family friend of the Parkers, and, Abigail thought, a vile woman. Vivian had taken an immediate disliking to her since their first encounter, hurting her feelings on a regular basis. When Abigail was orphaned, Vivian had been her guardian until the former turned eighteen.