Dark alleyways (weekend freewrite)

Richard loved to surprise her, she was learning so fast. She was one of his better students, he could tell, so he would bring home little niblets and toys he thought she might enjoy. The little girl was always so happy to see him. It worried Richard, it really did. While he enjoyed the attention and openness, he would've hated for her to form any sort of...attachment.
Then, she would have to be terminated, and he really did not want that. He'd taken a shine to her from the very first day, from that first moment she opened her eyes, high up in his tower. He'd been watching, through the keyhole, but there was no rage, she did not scream or fling things at the walls. She did not curse or cry out for her mommy. This pleased Richard most of all, there had been no fear in the little girl's eyes.
She had just sat on the bed and stared out, as if she saw him behind the door. Maybe she did, he realized, looking back, for she had very keen eyes. They could spot the bat of an eyelash from a mile away.
Then and there, Richard changed his mind, which he rarely did, and decided he would not sacrifice the girl, but teach her. He would take her under his wing. He was, after all, getting on in age and soon, there would be no one to do the job. And that would definitely anger the gods.
The first thing he brought her, in that same week, was a stray cat he'd found wondering on the streets. Empty, alone, lost. Like so many souls in this modern atrocity of a world. So, he'd bent down, beckoning the cat toward him and rescuing it from its misery.

The look in the little girl's eyes when she'd seen the cat was...strange, even to Richard. There was a fire behind those dark irises of hers, a strength that bordered unto madness. Richard saw in her something of his younger self.
The next day, he had not been able to find a cat, so he'd settled on smaller things like mice and birds. It's surprisingly easy to catch a bird, if you know how to be quiet. The sacrifices were not big, definitely not what they should be, but they were enough to keep them afloat, enough to appease the gods until Richard could find a better kill.

She started taking up a lot of bad habits, spending so many hours alone, in the darkness. She would allow her mind to wonder, which was a terrible thing, because it led her down sinister alleys and byways, places she did not want to visit, places from before.
She didn't like thinking about her life before she met Richard, because that life was done now. She lived here, with Richard, who was teaching her to kill. No, not kill, offer sacrifices. To the gods.
The old gods, the real gods, who still lingered in the darkness of the world. They were still very dangerous, Richard always warned her, which is why they should be kept happy with offerings of blood.
This was her life now. This, and it was a good, important life, it was a calling, she would tell herself over and over. She'd been telling herself that from that first moment when she opened her eyes and felt someone watching. She'd known then, with crystal clarity, that if she made the smallest sound of anguish, she was a dead girl.
That's all she was now, just a girl. She had no name, because she didn't need one. Those who feed the gods are Nameless. And yet, she thought, Richard had a name. She wondered why, but feared to ask him out loud, so she kept that thought locked in her head. She was the girl who would inherit the role of sacrificer in a few years, when Richard was gone and she would have to take her job seriously.

At first, in the sanctity of night, she had thought that maybe she could run away. Not now, but in a few years, when Richard was gone and the job fell on her, she could end this madness. She could put a stop to the sacrifices and the suffering. She'd really believed that, in the first week.
But then, annoying little thoughts started creeping in. What would happen to the gods if she did that? Sure, maybe they didn't exist, but what if Richard was right? What if they did?
The idea of running away had grown more and more remote, till it was so swiftly out of reach.
That's when he'd started bringing in the animals. She'd killed the cat, because he had been watching her. But also, because she was afraid. She feared something bad would happen if the old gods didn't receive the blood they were owed.
It is unwise to anger the gods, she kept telling herself.

An old letter from Amsterdam was the solution to Richard's problems. It had been a bit of a dry spell, and the arrival of the old letter really couldn't have come at a better time. The letter itself, of course, wasn't old, but the sender was. An old acquaintance of his – a most tedious woman, who had always had perverted desires of him. Lustful thoughts, which he scorned.
But that was before.
Now, the old gods had gone without human blood for over four months. The last human victim he'd caught had been the girl, and then he'd changed his mind about her, so that had delayed the sacrifice that was due. He wrote back to the woman eagerly, asking her to visit him. It had been so long, he complained, since they'd last seen each other.
It was a foolproof plan, for the lusty bitch was sure to come wagging her tongue at this. And then, the gods would be appeased and the girl would have her first real kill. Richard liked her, he really did, she showed a lot of promise. But there was still something bothering him, an uneasiness that he needed to satisfy.
The letters flew, the longful sentences passed and the day arrived. And so did the woman, as he knew she would, dressed in whore's clothes, with a low-cut dress that revealed her full breasts and her face covered in loud make-up. It hurt Richard's eyes to even look at her, but sacrifices must be made, he told himself as he toasted her health, while the little girl waited patiently in the upstairs room, at the top of the tower, not making a sound.
The sleeping pills he'd slipped in her drink were enough to put the woman out cold quickly and Richard was relieved he no longer had to make conversation with this creature that disgusted him.
He carried her upstairs, almost drowning in her perfume, and kicked at the door until the little girl opened it. He laid the woman on the table.
He would've normally put her on the bed, but that belonged to the little girl, now, for she was his permanent guest.

The little nameless girl studied the blade of the knife, the light dancing, in glimmers, over it. She looked from Richard to the woman, the unaware victim whose last memory on earth would be getting drunk with her captor.
She tried to call back to the strength she'd felt in the beginning, she begged her old self to resist, to step up and end the madness. And she could feel it, the power, but only in dim flashes. She had the old gods to consider and if she ran now, they would be angered, sooner or later.
Could she risk that?
Richard looked on, with pride in his eye, as the little girl approached the unconscious woman and his heart burst with joy as she sunk the blade into the woman's chest.
The little girl closed her eyes, when she felt the hot blood run over her fingers. And there, in the darkness, she knew what she had to do. She recognized the insecurity within herself, the gnawing doubt.
Swift on her feet, she turned and lunged at her captor, tearing through his chest with her knife.
Richard sunk to his knees. He looked up at the girl, in disbelief that she had been able to betray him and the gods. But the little girl didn't really believe in his gods and that was her secret.
Clinging to her ankles, Richard died and the old gods died with him.

This is a weekend freewrite, based on the prompts offered by @mariannewest, the wonderful woman behind the 5 Minute Freewrite Challenge. Check out her blog and join our freewriting community!

Tomorrow, I shall be getting back to a story I previously began in my freewrites. You can find the first parts here: