blackday730

Standing in a cemetary, next to a small church, is a statue of a little girl with an out streched arm, a butterfly apon it. Who is she, you ask. And what, exactly, happened to her?  Well, her name is Grace, and it all started when she was five, when her dad had came home around midnight, drunken and angry,  taking his anger out on his wife. She hid under her parents bed, watching as he brutally killed her mommy, sobbing qiuetly. She knew if her dad heard her crying, she might take the place of mommy, so she bit her hand to keep from crying out, her blood trickling down her arm as her mother's splattered the walls and carp