prologue

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The sky was running ink. Like a canvas of darkness with twinkling dots painted inbetween. A soft hum of Moonlight Sonata playing on a stereo. A young mother cradling her toddler to her chest, hands teasing the knots that was her hair. The mother herself, Beatrice Thompson was a soft-spoken, kind-hearted woman. 

The mocha-skinned woman could be seen swaddling her daughter. Well rocking her three-year old daughter back-and-forth to the melody of classical music.

To say the newfound mother was terrified was an understatement. She had dark circles under her eyes and the new developed nerve to cry. Especially after Clara had developed a rash and stomach bug, Beatrice's anxiety levels were off the chart. News had hit America quite quick that over in Europe some scientists had created this death proned virus causing symptoms similar to Clara's.

Beatrice tucked her daughter into bed, leaving the poorly lit flower next to her daughter. The sound of water spitting and hissing alerted the mother that it was nearly overcooked. Beatrice Thompson had never been a fan of drink tea, she just didn't understand the fuss around it but ever since the outbreak tea had become her new best friend.

Garlic wafted around the must coated kitchen, seemingly sticking to the bad smells that all ready exsisted on the mint coloured wall. A crash could be heard from upstairs: setting Beatrice's inside alarms off. 'Was is Clara?' 'Had she rolled off the bed again.' ''Clara, sweetheart are you alright.'' Beatrice called, turning the burning stove off behind her.

Silence. Followed by the shortage of light. Candles that were lit in the living room seemingly flicked between lit and not lit. The TV began to glitch causing a horrible static noise to hit Beatrice's ears, soon after the sound of someone stomping up and down the stairs, ''Clara, sweetheart is that you?'' Beatrice's tone was one filled with fear and she placed a hand over her heart.

When she was greeted with no response, the young woman curled herself up into the corner behind her sofa. Shutting her eyes hoping that death would sooner rather than later. She didn't want to be stuck in the house with whatever virus had graced her daughter. She didn't want to be near that thing that was created by the hands of her scumbag, ex-boyfriend.

A lock clicked, the hopeful sign of a door opening. This was accentuated by a musky smell, one only a man could have. With a hint of some type of old alchohol. Maybe scotch or whiskey. 

Everything went still as the lights slowly flickered on again and the TV switch on to an 90s marathon. A gun shot filled the air which was made more prominent when the smell of gun powder and something burning filled the brown eyed woman's nose.

The from down the stairs came the man who just saved her life. A man she knew to be Alejandro Carol.

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