Lights Out

Bruises and Bullet Wounds (Rachel)

It was Christmas Eve. Well, not exactly, it was December twenty-third, but the past year had been a leap year, adding the extra day of February twenty-ninth to the calendar, so if it was a normal year it would've been Christmas Eve.

That's what she told herself, over and over, trying to imprint it into her head. "It's all the fault of leap day. If not for leap day it would be Christmas Eve, and they would never fight in Christmas Eve." Though no matter how much she repeated it, Rachel couldn't bring herself to believe it. So she just lay there, curled into a ball, with her hands firmly pressed over her eyes to block out sound, lay there and cried.

"You're an idiot!" Her mother had repeated over and over again, Rachel had heard them all too well, the entire neighborhood had heard them all too well, "they won't just let us leave, not like that they won't. You're going to get yourself killed, you're going to get us all killed! Just apologize, just say you're sorry, Henry. Please, don't do this."

Her mother had sobbed when she spoke, screamed through blubbering tears that fell down her face. Her father had not, he had spoken with a calculated voice, as if set on his decision, as if refusing to change.

"This is what had to be done Ida. This is for the good of our family."

"They won't let us go," fear had filled her mothers voice, and embedded itself deep in Rachel's gut, "we'll run forever Henry, we'll never be safe."

"This is what has to be done." That phrase, again. Shattering porcelain could be heard downstairs, and then pounding footsteps. The door opened and then there he was, a shadowy mass of darkness, this was not the father Rachel had come to love. He took her in, her trembling hands, her tear-stained cheeks, and then said seven words that changed her life.

"Pack your things Rachel. We're leaving, tonight."

Rachel had said nothing, simply nodded, and stuffed as many of her belongings as she could into the ratty brown suitcase she called her own. She then crept down the stairway and put her suitcase on the kitchen tables. Her mother sat hollowed out in one of the wooden chairs pulled up to the table, she stared blankly at the wall, he finger loosely making circles on the rim of a water glass.

"He's going to get us all killed, Rachel,"

Rachel nodded, moving past her a sweeping up the broken flower face that lay discarded on the floor.

He mother gripped her arm, nails painfully digging into her flesh, mania shone in her eyes, but then her gaze softened and she pulled Rachel into her embranche. She stroked Rachel's hair, "he's going to get us all killed Rachel, we're all going to be killed," tears dropped down her cheeks, "everything's going to change, Rachel."

Everything's going to change.

"Rachel."

Rachel blinked drowsily as a blinding white light shone above her, her shoulder throbbed, it was numb. Rachel looked over to see a hideous, pink-stained bandage, loosely covering the wound.

"Rachel I need you to focus." Rachel blinked again and zeroed in on Marra next to her. Marra's face was bruised, her orange hair was matted with dirt, "you're going to need to focus Rachel."

"Oh shut up," Marra was thrown to the side as a lady appeared and straddled Rachel's legs. It was the lady with the auburn hair Rachel had run into in the sewers, the lady who had shot her. Her face betrayed nothing of her intentions as she dead-panned her lines, "this it going to hurt."

That was it, and then Rachel screamed as a blinding pain tore through her, the lady with the auburn hair rolled her eyes as she displayed the blood-covered bullet for Rachel to see, "now that wasn't that bad, was it? Had to get the bullet out you know, wouldn't want the wound to get infected now, would we?"

Rachel passed out.

The next time Rachel woke up it was nighttime, she didn't know how she knew, but Rachel could just tell. Marras sleeping form lay curled into her side, and Rachel's eyes refused to focus as she listened to the muffled voices argue in the background.

"Do you have any idea how clumsy you've gotten?" It wasn't the woman, it was the other person. The young boy, he sounded troubled, "you almost killed an innocent. Not to mention assaulting one of our own, you broke about a million codes, how are we ever suppose to explain this?"

"Codes?" The lady laughed, "I haven't broken any codes. We were being followed, spied on, by one of our own no less. We might have we'll have worshipped the codes. You'll understand when you're a real knight."

Rachel couldn't see the boy, but she imagined he was fuming. Once again, she drifted into a deep sleep.

When she finally come around for good she was lying on her back in a starch white room. Her shoulder throbbed, but it was numb, Rachel couldn't feel any pain.

"Morning, sleeping beauty!" Rachel groaned as she sat up, the room she was on seemed clean enough, but reeked of bleach, as if it had been cleaned recently. She turned to face Marra, who was huddled in a corner, a large bruise blossomed along her jawbone, but other then that she seemed okay. "How was your nap?" Marra flashed Rachel a toothy smile and giggled under her breath. That was all it took for Rachel to recognize that Marra was totally, completely, out of it.

"Marra," Rachel rolled her shoulders and winced , "what did they do to you?"

"Oh nothing," Marra yawned, "just a few sedatives, seem to be wearing off now." She laughed, "I am pretty tired though."

Rachel sighed, clutching her head. Think, she screamed at herself, she needed to think. She was who knows where with a hurt shoulder and a drugged sidekick. Just as she had decided the situation was hopeless, Rachel heard the mechanical sound of gears turning and a door she hadn't realized was there popped open.

The first person to enter was the lady with the auburn hair, her mask was gone and her hair was neatly pinned to her scalp, one of her eyes was bruised an ugly black color and bandaged neatly, but her face betrayed nothing of whatever pain she must've felt.

Marra sighed and climbed to her feet, wiping her grimy palms on her thighs, "nice bruise you got there princess," she smirked, "wonder her gaze it to you?"

"Why you little-" the lady sneered under her breath but was cut off when a man cleared his threat and entered the room. He was tall, with an elegantly tailored black suit and darkness shadowing her face. He looked around the room and settled his eyes on Marra.

"Soldier." His voice was deep, his gaze piercing.

Marra, gulped, her demeanor seemed to straighten, "Commander."

Two words. That's all that was exchanged. Two words and Rachel's world came crashing down around her.

The man, the commander, looked from Marra to Rachel then stepped aside and gestured towards the opening of the door, "continue about your mission."

Marra nodded her head in a mock bow as she passed the lady with the auburn hair, then repeated the gesture before the commander. She left the room without another word.

Then Rachel, with a newfound hatred for the woman she had put her trust in, and a resolution to find her back to her family. Somehow. Eventually. Followed her.