Pretty Waterhouse I: Ashes of Yesterday

Chapter 1: No Escape

Chapter 1: "No Escape"

Weeks earlier...

Valery ran through the narrow cobblestone streets of the city, each step resonating against the silence of the night like a war drum. Behind her, the footsteps of her pursuers multiplied, marking a frantic and constant rhythm. Her heart raced as she dodged shadows and garbage containers, desperately seeking refuge.

The cold air cut through her skin, and her lungs burned from the effort, but she knew that stopping would mean her end. The dim light from the street lamps barely illuminated the labyrinth of alleys, and each shadow seemed to conceal a threat. In the distance, she saw the still-lit lights of a small shop. With renewed hope, she quickened her pace toward the only visible promise of salvation.

As she approached, she recognized it as a small, cozy clothing boutique. Without time to hesitate, she frantically banged on the glass door, each knock echoing her desperation.

"Please, help!" she cried out, her voice torn with terror.

A middle-aged man appeared behind the counter, his face marked by surprise and confusion. His glasses slid down his nose as he cautiously approached the door.

"What's happening?" he asked in a trembling voice.

"They're after me, please, let me in," Valery pleaded, casting frantic glances over her shoulder.

The man nodded, quickly unlocking the door and allowing Valery to slip inside. As soon as she entered, he locked the door again and lowered the heavy metal shutter.

"Come, behind the counter," he instructed, guiding Valery to a dark corner of the store.

They crouched behind the counter, Valery's heart pounding against her ribs. She could hear her own ragged breathing and the buzzing of her blood in her ears. For a moment, everything was silent, except for the dull, distant sound of the shutters shaking slightly with the wind.

Suddenly, a thunderous bang shook the boutique. Someone was hitting the metal shutter with brutal force. Valery felt her fear turn to panic as the banging continued, each blow followed by the warping crunch of metal.

The man beside her turned pale, his eyes wide with terror. Before they could react, the glass door shattered into a thousand shining pieces, sending sharp fragments flying through the air. Hooded figures entered the store, their movements agile and silent like living shadows.

The boutique owner tried to speak, perhaps to plead or negotiate, but it was futile. One of the captors grabbed him by the neck and, without a word, slit his throat. Blood stained the polished floor as the man's body fell with a dull thud.

Valery screamed, instinctively retreating. She tried to run, but the cold, strong hands of one of her captors caught her. Her eyes met those of her captor, cold and merciless under the hood.

And in that moment, knowing that the man who had tried to help her lay lifeless at her feet, Valery understood the depth of her despair.