FALTER

CHAPTER 1: I called my saviour and he answered.

It was dark in the back of the van. Rachel was curled up in the corner, arms covering her shivering body from the steel lining the walls. She had a bruise, which regularly sent her pulses of pain as a reminder that she was definitely sick. Ignoring the heaviness in her head, the pain in her joints, and the urge to throw up the scraps of her dinner from two nights ago, she stayed alert. Eyes darted around the darkness and as her heart beat furiously with anticipation, she looked down again at her phone. She had managed to keep it hidden the entire time she was in captivity until she found the opportunity to call the number which now glowed in her call logs. When she had dialed it, all that greeted her on the other side was an unending ring. Rachel knew it was a reach to expect this number to work, but ever since she was snatched out of her own bed by strangers, hope had become a luxury and she held onto what she had. Furrowing her brows, she snapped out of the flashback and kept her ears keenly open. She heard the rain pattering on the metal roof; it rang so loudly in her hazy mind she couldn't make out the conversation of the men outside the door. Suddenly, the lock on the door started moving and all the hope Rachel had built up seemed to physically disappear as she slumped further into the floor. She didn't know what the men had planned for her, but it didn't take a genius to extrapolate, and as the lock fully unfurled Rachel steeled herself for one last fight.

Something landed on the roof. A loud CLANG echoed inside as Rachel felt the whole truck sink significantly. She heard the person outside the door yell something unintelligible, before footsteps from above shook her surroundings. A whoosh of air, followed by a wet punch emanating through the door and finally the unmistakable noise of someone hitting the floor. More yelling followed from further away, and then, to her horror, gunshots. With a yelp, Rachel covered her ears just as a bullet pierced through the flimsy wall of the van. A ray of light through the newly formed hole provided the only light she had seen in a long time. Hungrily, she scrambled to the source, and peered outside. Her eyes burnt with the strain of adjusting to the light and when they did, she realized the light came from a car's headlights pointed directly at her. Silhouetted against the white was a figure. It moved gracefully in front, beside and behind the car. Rachel could barely process the amount of people surrounding the space before they all fell one by one, attacked relentlessly yet peacefully by her saviour. They didn't look like a helper though; even though they were a blur, Rachel made out the sharp edges jutting out of their frame and the horns curling intimidatingly over the head. As if sensing Rachel inside, they slammed one of the men against the wall she was peeking through, causing her heart to skip a few beats as she fell back. Slowly and deliberately, she raised her hands to cover her ears, and curled up on the floor with her eyes closed. A lifetime later, it went silent and the emaciated girl slowly felt her heart beating slower and slower, and just as she was about to open her eyes, the door of the van was ripped from its hinges, almost stopping Rachel's heart again. Her eyes opened to the minuscule amount of light now floating through the columns of dust to see the person, outlined by the drops of rain splattering on their head and shoulders. It offered a clawed hand forward, and Rachel reached for it.

As the torrent of rain continued pattering on the streets of Youth City, one building had its lights on among the dark alleys snaking through the environment. Inside, all the residents were asleep, but the front reception never went dark. That was their rule. Tonight, it was a young woman, furiously scribbling on paperwork with her brows cartoonishly furrowed, keeping guard. Her grey hair was loosely tied in a bun, letting strands that she was too distracted to brush out of the way hang over her glasses. She had a round countenance, and a generally warm presence in spite of the expression on her face. Thunder rumbled, followed by lightning streaking across the sky. The momentary flash of light illuminated the demonic figure slowly walking up to the glass door, a sight which was missed by the woman drowning in her papers. Seconds later, however, her attention was finally shifted when a brisk knock rang in her direction, followed by the ringing of a bell.