❝he burns like the nicotine that coats your lungs and the liquor sliding down your throat, but you can't leave him. you swear to yourself that you will, one day, but you're not ready to let this go. he's not good for you, and you know it, but you ca...
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MILAN BRADSHAW knew the importance of mere seconds. Chopping off a vampire's head mere seconds before it got to her, stabbing a demon mere seconds before it attacked, burning the bones of a vengeful spirit mere seconds before it tackled her hunting partner to the ground.
However, Milan Bradshaw was mere seconds too late when the demon got ahold of her father's gun, shooting him in the chest. He fell to the ground in what seemed like slow motion, a movie scene being horribly played out right in front of her. Milan had seen a lot of things, but she never dreamed that she would be seeing Owen Bradshaw's lifeless, bleeding body on the cold concrete floor of an old warehouse.
And with all the rage she could muster, Milan ran for the demon, shoving her blade into the chest of its meatsuit; a teenage boy that had already been in a medically induced coma when the servant of Hell possessed him. She felt no ounce of regret. This vile creature had taken away the most important person in Milan's life, the only person she had left. After the demon was killed, a mess of amber light and crimson liquid gushing from its wounds, Milan ran to her father's side, tears rushing from her eyes.
"Dad?" She knew he was gone, but she shook him anyway, praying that his eyes would open to reveal his hazel irises, or that his hand would twitch or that his foot would move. But he didn't. Of course he didn't.
Milan let out a gutteral scream, one so full of sadness and pain and strife that she was sure everyone in the town surrounding the warehouse could hear her. She collapsed onto his body, sobbing, coating his already wet, black t-shirt with tears.
That was how she woke up; still laying on her father's chest, dried blood coating her face, matted in her hair, staining her white camisole. She planned a hunter's funeral, the risk of him coming back as a ghost too much for the woman to bear.
And after that, she fled the little town in Montana, running as far from that night as she could. As much as she tried to drown out the memories of that night by drinking in the abundance of bars in Nashville, or visiting the many clubs in Los Angeles, Milan couldn't shake the feeling that her father was being forgotten, that his legacy was being forgotten. His wife was dead, and so was his other daughter, Blair, killed by a ghoul in Berlin, Maryland. Milan was the only one left in the Bradshaw family, and it was her duty to carry on her father's legacy. What else was she supposed to do? She had been smart in school, but college had never been an option. She couldn't go back home to New York, not after everything that had happened, not after the rumors the townspeople had started about the Bradshaw family being devil-worshipping freaks. Milan was completely stuck, and no amount of beer or men was going to fix that.
So she entered back into the life that she despised; the only life she had.
a/n: so excited to reboot this! I'm starting over. I do start school in a couple weeks and I have three art classes and three math classes (I'm a graphic design major and a marketing minor), I will be super busy! 18 credit hours is going to be rough, writing time definitely not a priority, so this story will probably be on hold, but I will try to update a bit before then.
Let me know what you guys think! Thank you for all the support you've shown for this story previously. I'm working hard to make it much better than it was before!
