From the Ashes We Rise

Chapter 1

I woke to darkness. Jet black, harsh darkness.

The air smelled musty. I stretched my hand above my head, my fingertips hitting cold wood.

First I slid into the wall behind me, then I was flung to the top. Ouch.

I noticed a small crack in the crate, at least what I had to assume was a crate. I tried looking through the hole, but all I could see was the bed of the truck before I was tossed as the truck came to a screeching halt.

I heard footsteps outside and then the top of the crate was ripped off. The ominous figure of a large man stepped into my view of the bright stars of the night sky and reached for me.

I sunk into the corner of the box, trying to keep out of his reach, but he still grabbed me and pulled me out of the crate.

After a few minutes, he was carrying me loosely. I waited to make sure he wasn't going to hold me tighter, then rolled out of his arms and hit the ground running.

"Hey! Get back here!" I heard his gruff voice yell as a ran. I could hear his heavy footsteps as he ran after me. I was felt free again, until he grabbed me, this time holding me down and tying my feet together before picking me back up and walking again.

He held me tighter this time, I knew I wouldn't get another chance to run. Before long, I was drifting off to sleep with the steady rhythm of his footsteps, realizing how exhausted I was.

-

I woke once again in darkness, this time my hands and feet were bound.

I could hear loud voices below me, mostly laughing.

I tried to stand, but I just fell back to the floor. The thump as I hit the ground must have been loud enough to get someone's attention because I heard someone shushing the rest of the people below me.

A few people rushed up the stairs; three men entered the room. Two picked me up by the arms and the third kept a gun pointed at me as he reached down and cut the rope around my feet so I could walk.

He walked behind me, holding his gun to my head. "Move," he growled.

I began to walk slowly towards the doors until he shoved me. I quickened my pace and hurried down the stairs. The two men without any weapons walked in front of me and parted the crowd as I walked through.

I refused to meet the glares of the people to either side of me.

As we reached the end of the room, the man behind me stopped me and pushed my head with the gun until I was looking at the floor. Not allowed to look up. Got it.

"Hello, Kitten," strangely familiar voice greeted me. He waited for a reply, I said nothing. "Cat got your tongue, Kitten? Or are you just too weak and scared to talk?" The room roared with laughter.

Laugh all you want. 

"Why did you try to run? We saved you from those thieves, and in return you fled. I had at least hoped you would say thank you," the voice said again.

The man with the gun kicked me. "Answer the Overlord," he said. I refused. I wouldn't give in. He kicked me again, this time harder, the gun still pointed at my head.

I didn't want to, but I dared to speak. "Well, thank you. I've really enjoyed this whole saving-and-then-treating-me-like-a-prisoner-thing." The room fell silent.

The Overlord must have given the man behind me a signal, because within a few seconds, I felt a sharp pain in my head as someone knocked me unconscious.

-

I woke up in the same room, my hands and feet tied once again. This time it was bright, the sun was shining through the window, and it felt much warmer.

I could see the room clearly now; there was a dusty wooden bookshelf filled with books, a bed neatly made, and a vanity beside the bed with a broken mirror. I quietly jumped onto the bed to balance myself as I slid toward the vanity.

I picked up a shard of glass and sat in the middle of the bed.

I began to cut the thick rope around my feet awkwardly with my hands tied together. I was barely making a dent in the rope.

Suddenly the door opened. A red haired girl stepped into view. She was pretty, but pretty hid darkness; I glared at her from the bed.

She looked down at my feet then at my hands. She raised her eyebrows once she realized what I was doing. She turned, shut the door, and jumped onto the bed next to me. Grabbing my wrists with one hand and slipping a pocketknife out of her left boot with the other, she began to cut.

Soon, my hands and feet were free and she had placed the shard of glass back on the vanity. She smiled and turned to leave, but before she reached the door, she turned back to me. She glanced toward the windows, then back at me, then walked out the door.

Why did she help me?

It hit me; I was free to go. Well, free to sneak out. The window was easy to unlock, it just had a simple lock, no special security. They must trust their prisoners enough to not run.

I looked around the room and grabbed a few small things I thought I might need.

There was a black leather jacket in a dresser drawer that I happily put on immediately. A gun with bullets was in one of the drawers of the vanity, a pocketknife in a pair of boots from under the bed, and a few snack bars were in a box in the corner of the room.

It was like a jackpot of survival items in here, but I just grabbed a few necessities, stuffed them into the pockets of the jacket I had found and slid the pocketknife into my left boot like the girl that had helped me had done.

I finished packing, climbed out the window and jumped to the ground. I felt sharp pain in my ankle as I hit the ground. I quickly glanced through the window and gasped as I saw a familiar face.

It wasn't possible.

He was dead.

I ran around the house, forgetting my escape, and burst through the doors, facing the man I thought to be dead.

"Aiden?"