Americana

I am the devil.

Wether the world likes it or not.

I've had tattoos of the devil on my skin since I was a young naive girl.

I was ten when I got my first tattoo.

Now?

I am covered with the art of the devil.

People know me as 'the devils horse'

Why?

I have no idea.

But I do know that I will find the man who killed my father.

*flash back 8 months earlier*

"Jenny where is he?"

She looked down and I could see her tears.

"He's dead."

She sobbed.

No. No...

"He jumped off a building Lana."

"You really think I'm dumb?"

She looked at my confused.

"He didn't jump."

She looked back down.

"No. He didn't. He was pushed."