Give a problem to a named person in your first sentence and go from there…
Willow’s world changed when her parents first told her the news. Well, not really her parents anymore. The woman she used to call her mother looked like a Norse goddess, with glistening white hair, supermodel legs and a face that makes you double-take when you pass her down the street. Her not-so-loving father was a man she’d seen less times than the amount of fingers she had on one hand. That was OK, because it wasn’t as if she liked him anyway. Then again, he would’ve been better than Chuck. ANYONE would’ve been better than Chuck.
Charles “Chuck” Brown was the man her mother decided to remarry after her scandalous divorce. She was 10 years his senior, and was only 11 years older than Willow. He had shaggy onyx coloured hair and an endless abyss for eyes that made you feel like you were about to fall into a deep dark cave without knowing what’s on the other side. He had a round face, a tall, lean body and a sinister smirk that made anyone, especially Willow, shiver. He had a certain air about him, the way he stalked across a room, head held high and shoulders back, the way a lawyer would when they were interrogating a witness. The only problem was you really couldn’t compare Chuck to a lawyer. Lawyers were mainly good people, they protected people and they helped people. Chuck, however, didn’t have enough human left in him to realise that he was anything BUT good.
Willow thought he was OK at first. When they first met, he gave her compliments and flashed her one of his infamous dazzling smiles. When he moved in, he let her bounce for hours on end on the new King bed that he would now be sleeping in. When her mother was out, he would go to Willows room with a box of chocolate and talk, just talk. He was so nice, so considerate, so loving, that she almost considered him as the dad she never had. But after a year or so, he would still come to talk, but he would sit a little closer to her. He would hold her hand, and wrap his arm around her shoulders, like they were buddies. But Willow didn’t want a buddy, she wanted a dad. So the next time he came, she was prepared.
He walked into her over-sized room for a sixteen year old, and leaned towards her, asking how her day had been. She had seen enough horror movies in her life to know this would not end well. He kept up his easy-flowing conversation, leaning closer as the conversation continued touching her a bit more than necessary. However, instead of remaining in her position, Willow leaned away from him, and shifted towards the other end of the bed. He frowned, grabbing her arm in the process, and squeezed a bit too hard for her liking. In a dash, she jumped up, and pushed him off the bed. She grabbed her bag she had packed the night before, filled to the brim with cash, and ran. Down the stairs, passed her frazzled mother and out the door. She ran, and ran, and ran, and never looked back.