.PROJECT---//L.U.H

Chapter 1: A beckoning hand

At first when I wake up, I think the light banging sound is the noise of a hammer pounding against wood, that we were back in my old home located in Tokyo, Japan with my father. But as I start to wake, I realize the sound is something real, something near. And as the last vestiges of sleep disappear, I can hear it clearly.

The incessant sound of knocking coming from my door.

I wait for a few moments, hoping whoever woke me up would leave. However, my hopes were for naught as it only grew louder and louder with each passing second, which only suited to irritate me further.

Fed up, I stand and rummage through my closet for a coat to cover myself before letting in the cool autumn breeze and make my way to the front door in nothing but a large grey jacket, a white V-neck shirt and black shorts a size too big reaching past my knees.

I push the door open, and was greeted with a splash of cold water and the grinning face of my best friend. Sighing I sent an insufferable look at her and gestured her in before she or I could catch a chill.

"Bree, what are you doing here on a Saturday? You know I can't hang-out with you during the weekends."

"Oh Aya" She clicked her tongue "I knew you'd forget that we have a talk today! It's a good thing I stopped by to wake you up." She sauntered over and sat herself over on the brown couch, legs crossed over each other in a lady-like manner and head resting on the palm of her hand.

"I told you I can't go today," The door closed with a soft thud "I have work and I need that money for rent."

"Loosen up a bit, you won't be able to get a boy if you keep that attitude and wear those clothes!" I saw her give a slight grimace at my choice of attire "Besides, I'm sure I can help you with rent, maybe even lower down the price while I'm at it."

I eyed her outfit 'As if what you're wearing is even worse...' The purple tank-top she wore clashed with the yellow of her skirt and the red of her sneakers--she was a walking fashion disaster in my opinion, her hairstyle didn't make things better either. Neon green hair was tied up in a slightly off center ponytail using a panda-like hair tie while the rest of her hair framed her face in a very soft manner.

Her appearance wasn't the only thing that was making me uncomfortable, this conversation was taking a turn into a street I didn't want to go to.

"...I have orange juice..."

"Stop trying to change the subject!" She paused and looked up at me from her spot on the couch, a blush on her face "Actually that'd be great, thanks."

Walking to the attached
kitchen, I open the fridge and bring out a carton of Orange juice, shaking the carton slightly and hearing the contents swish inside I felt relief.

Of course, I was even more relieved at the short reprieve from her words, though it wouldn't last long.

Bree loved her orange juice--being undead made you like that, if they were denied of anything fruit or vegetable, it was most likely certain death for you.

Putting the carton back down on the counter, I reach for two cups in a storage space under the sink and produced two brown mugs, pouring juice in one and leaving the other empty.

I couldn't help but grimace at the citrus-y scent and orange color. I was allergic to Orange. The only reason I keep some around was because Bree often stopped by in the mornings and this happened to be her favorite.

I fill the other with water and pop it in the microwave, pondering on my choice of mix before setting it for a minute.

"Bree, I can't keep freeloading off your family, y'know? It just doesn't seem fair to your father. He's such a hard-working guy and I'd hate to impose him because I can't pay."

I try to reach the top shelf but just barely graze it's surface.

"Aya, you're not imposing anyone. You just need some help and time, everyone does at some point."

I climb up a nearby stool and grab the creamer, cinnamon, sugar and a jar of caramel flavored coffee mix.

"But...I can't shake off the guilt..."

"Then don't feel the guilt in the first place Aya, honestly, you're such a nice person I don't know how we're even friends"

"It's also a myst--"

The words die in my mouth as I bite my lip and watch memories flash before my eyes.

A woman with black hair crying as the rain pelted against her skin...red and blue mixing...men in white suits holding guns in their hands...

bang

Bang

BANG

...The blood ran down the pavements freely, now a slightly pinkish color from the rain thats been falling from the gray overcast since the afternoon which had covered the city...

...Metal against leather, skin against latex...pain...all I can feel is PAIN...

"Run Ama--"

...

I drew a blank

And feel myself hit the ground as the microwave pinged, my forehead felt like it was being dragged against heated gravel during a snowstorm, all I could hear was static in my ears and all I could feel were the phantom hands roaming my body, leaving behind cold patches from where they touched.

Something--something grabbed a hold of my neck and was choking me, their fingers felt calloused against my sensitive skin, my hands clawed at him in a desperate try at air, only to be released from his (her?) chokehold.

My eyes try to open in a vain attempt to see my imaginary assailant and I flail my arms and legs. When I finally open my eyes, green and purple cover every surface I look upon, only recognizing silhouettes of appliances and fixtures in my kitchen, and from the corner of my limited vision, I can make out a hand reaching out to me, almost as if it was beckoning me out the window before everything went black.

Note: not bad for a first chapter eh? Haha, more to come...oh and, this wasn't actually planned but more of a spur of the moment thing, and I figured I'd practice witting here :3
I'd love to hear your thoughts and suggestions--flames and critics are
welcomed down there below in the comments ^^

Also, sorry for the short chapter and sorry for the bad technique. This is un-betad!

More to come in the next installment