Estella was walking beside her father in the cool evening air in the country. The sun was setting, glowing orange on the clouds above it. Her dark hand was holding his and she looked into his brown eyes lovingly.

“Dad.”

“Yes sweetheart?” They moved a little bit to the side, seeing an oncoming car.

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” he smiled. “Don’t ever forget that,” he kissed her round cheek and she smiled.

The car approached as he was kneeling in front of his daughter and a ‘thud.’ Her dad groaned and fell sideways. She looked up and saw the car had stopped and there was a man with a mask on. As soon as she saw him, though he hit the gas and drove off, the car engine purring loudly.

“Estella,” her dad coughed and she saw blood.

“Daddy,” her eyes filled with tears. “Daddy, what’s wrong?”

“I- I love you. Don’t-” he coughed again, “Don’t forget that.” He put his hand on her cheek and she saw tears glistening in his large, smart brown eyes. His head dropped to the asphalt and his hand fell from her face.

“Dad?” she shook him, “Dad!” she was crying now. She hugged him, “Daddy wake up.”

The sun set. The stars came out. The moon rose.

Finally, there were headlights. The road hardly ever got traffic. Upon the sight of the small, curly haired, black girl, the vehicle slowed to a stop and a man climbed out.

She was still crying and hugging her father.

“Oh my God,” the man said, removing a phone and dialing the police. “Hey, sweetie. What happened?” he knelt next to her. She couldn’t see him very well, but knew he was in a suit and he sounded nice. From his silhouette, he had short hair, combed professionally to the side.

“My daddy,” she sobbed. “He won’t wake up.”

“It’s going to be alright, don’t worry about it, ok?”

He comforted her until sirens and flashing lights were coming down the road. He scooped her up, in an attempt to get her away from the corpse.

She started struggling and screaming and he released her. She flung herself back over her father.

A bunch of men set up lights and started to put numbers on the ground, taking pictures of the scene and talking to the man, whose name Estella had discovered was Robert.

He didn’t seem tall, but he held himself like he was and he had blonde hair and nice, green eyes. When the policemen forced Estella away from the body, she hugged Robert. He knelt on the ground and embraced her, attempting to dry her tears.

Some men talked to her, asking who had done it, but all she could tell them was it was a green car and a man with a mask, which was, in essence, very useless information to solve a crime.

Twelve years later, Estella was in the family room with her adopted dad, Robert and his lovely wife, Trisha and her two siblings. Trisha had made her a huge birthday cake with eighteen candles on it.

“Good luck getting all those in one breath,” Robert smiled.

“Watch me. I’ve got some pretty sick breathing skills,” she smiled and breathed in deep. She released her pent up breath and all the candles went out. For half a moment, she closed her eyes. A birthday wish. She never really believed they worked, but figured it was definitely worth a shot.

Later that night, after opening gifts and playing games with the family, she climbed into bed, and looked at the old photo on her bedside table. He dad smiled at her. A tear rolled down her cheek.

“I love you daddy,” she whispered, then turned off her lamp.

The next morning, her alarm went off and she climbed out of bed. She changed into a pair of tight shorts and a tanktop, forcing her curly, black hair into a ponytail. She tied on her sneakers and started a basic warm up, drinking some water and plugging in her music. She left the house quietly and took off, headed down the road. She smiled at the adrenaline coursing through her body and started the turnaround. When she reached the house, she took a long drink of water and plugged her ipod into a cd player, cranking up the music in the barn. She started a routine workout, pushups, pullups, crunches, planks, stretches, karate moves, taekwondo, boxing, parkour and any other potential strengthening exercise she had been able to find and practice.

She continually thought of the masked man who had killed her dad so long ago. She had done research on a masked man killings and found that he was as racist as a racist could be, claiming all black men are thugs and deserved to die. Turns out, the police actually know who he is, but just can’t catch him. Estella was determined to get him and turn him into the police, after a little beating, of course. She wasn’t going to let her fathers death go unavenged.

A couple years later, she had made a friend at school who was extremely talented on a computer and he had found the virtual thumbprint of the man and was almost positive he had nailed the location of him.

“Turns out he lives in the very city we live in,” he said.

“Address?” she asked excitedly. Her dark skin on her left arm had been decorated with small, white ink stars spattering the skin, conveying part of the meaning of her name.

“Right here,” he scribbled it down and she ran from the building.

“This is it,” she thought, “I’m finally going to get him for what he’s done to me.” She jogged across town and found the apartments. She started to cross the street, but, just then, a crazy driver, trying to run a red light turned out of nowhere and hit her. She felt the glass crunch as she hit the windshield and rolled over the roof of the car. He head took a beating, but when she hit the ground, she was unconscious.

Three months later, she opened her eyes and saw Robert above her. He started crying and hugged her. “Estella.”

“Dad? What happened?”

“You were hit by a car and have been in a coma for months.”

“What?” she said looking around. “I was about to get him, dad.”

“Who?”

“The guy who killed my real dad.”

“Don’t worry. He’s been arrested. When your friend heard, he told them everything and they arrested him straight off.”

She tried to sit up, but was having difficulties.

“Careful,” Trisha was holding her hand. “The accident was pretty bad.”

“What?” Estella said. “I- I can’t feel my legs.”

“Unfortunately, the driver hit your spine, sweetheart,” Robert said. “The doctor said you’ll probably never walk again.”