Demons of Rubble and Stone (The Demon Brothers #1)

Chapter 1 | The Illness

A/N: I decided Im going to write this story as a 3rd person... Don't know how well it's going to turn out, but Im excited for this story!!! I squeezed about 3 chapters into one because I didn't want to drag on the story. And I'm not the best action scene writer so....Hope you all enjoy it, and I hope you don't get confused. :/

****WARNING****: This is an intense chapter. It touches on the topic of mental illnesses and in this case it is very extreme. Just a warning so I don't get burning bookshelves thrown at me. This is not meant to offend anyone, this is purely a work of fiction.

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Rebekah laid on her stomach, her cold wooden floors pressing painfully into her protruding hip bones. She had been trying for the past two hours to finish the history report that was do in a week. So far she had nothing, nada. Not more than one line written about The Black Plague As much of a history buff as she was the words just wouldn't come. The report, which was driving her insane, was supposed to be a short story written in the perspective of someone during that time period. She started to write a line down, but thought better of it and scratched it out, the black ink spreading across the white paper.

Looking around at the mess of books and lose papers that littered her floor, she sighed in defeat. She would have to try another day, the motivation that she needed was lacking and right now she had other things on her mind. Like her mother.

Standing up she stretched to each side, twisting her back. Two loud pops filled the room as the pressure that had been building up in her back was released.

Her mother was just another thing to add onto the list of things that where stressing Rebekah out. Being a senior in high school was bad enough, but when her mom's illness basically leaves her to fend for herself its even harder. Graduation was soon, and that little thing was her light at the end of the tunnel.The sole thing that keep her going, and not giving in.

Rebekah's mother had seemed to be getting worse, and just in the past week or so. She knew it was because her mother was flushing her pills down the toilet, but what could she do? Force feed her, her medications?

Rubbing the sides of her head in pain Rebekah slowly opened her door and started down the long hallway to the kitchen, where her mother should be.

The process of learning how to accept and deal with a schizophrenic was one that Rebekah and her mother still struggled with. Wanting to be the best daughter she could, Rebekah had promised to supervise her mother and her medications, that seemed to be like a joke to all of the doctors and nurses. They all looked at her as if she was being quite the comical joker. Letting an eighteen year old girl take care of her mother was laughable. She thought she could do it, thought she was responsible enough, but it turns out all those doctors and nurses were right, She couldn't do, no matter how much time she devoted to her mother she would always need more.

The kitchen, which her mother's artistic interior ideas had not touched, was a bright yellow; like sunshine on a cloudless day. The white counter tops and white refrigerator all screamed 70's. This kitchen was the perfect poster child of the 70's. The bright obnoxious colors vied for attention. She was surprised that her mother could even stand the brightness of the kitchen, but then again her mother hardly stepped foot in the room; she never cooked.

"Mom! Where are you?" Rebekah called out for her mother as she glanced around at the empty room, as always.

"In here!" Her mother's voice sounded off to the left, most likely coming from her art room. She always seemed to be better when she had a paint brush or anything that would leave a mark in her hand. It relaxed her in more ways than one.