[1] ALEXA, and her hell ✓ [Editing]

Help ✓

NF — Leave Me Alone
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"it is better to have faith in something than nothing at all." —Connor Kenway
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The 12th of April, Year 2020.

     Sebastian is sick in the head, but he is a man of his word.

     From all the crying and jerking she did, Alessia passed out in the metal chair, exhausted. Her whole body had shut down and nothing Sebastian's jolly ass did could wake her up.

     When she finally does gain consciousness, her surroundings had changed drastically; unfamiliar. She can hear the sounds of passing vehicles, the chatter of pedestrians; it's refreshing. The laughter and spoiled cries of children hang around the air and the honking and swearing of impatient drivers. Good to hear voices that don't belong to anyone of Sebastian's circle. Everything seems so beautiful in her mind; her ears tingle at the bell of a cyclist.

     Alessia doesn't want to ever leave this dream. Yes, that's how she feels, as if it's just a dream and she'll open her eyes to Mateo–like most mornings–waiting to feed her–as how it went the times Sebastian remembered. She thinks she'll be there way longer than he had told her.

     "Haha, that's fucked up, dude." A group of brats push each other around, entering the alley behind the restaurant, where Alessia is situated. They haven't noticed her yet and keeps playing around.

     "Mate, why'd you take us here again? It's renk." Says the tallest of the trio, fanning profusely at his nose. He rests an arm around his shorter friends, trudging in the middle.

     The one who hasn't spoken yet shrugs his arm off, mumbling about taking a leak. Rats scatter at their feet and as they get further into the alley, he's the first one to spot the small figure lying in a bunch of rubble and he pulls the others to a stop.

     They both follow his stare.

     "Wow," begins the shortest one, flatly, pulling out his phone to record, "is she wasted?"

     "God, I can't hold it any longer—!" The one who brought them to the alley gushes, rushing off into a darker corner and leaving his friends behind.

     "Yo, Phil, I think she's out of it."

     The tall one peers down at his curious Asian friend, who gently nudges Alessia's right foot with his own. Then, he slaps a hand on his shoulder. "Lee, stop that and put away the phone. She could be dead for all we know. Let's just wait for Douglas to come back and leave."

     At that, the shorter one shivers, quickly jogging away to find Douglas, shouting, "Ayo, Dougie! Hurry up, we gotta go!" He disappears around the same corner Douglas did.

     Phil stands before Alessia for what seems like a long time, before he steps forward to get a closer look. He notices many things, like, how she looks around their age, extremely underweight and also, alive. His eyes widen and thinking fast, he enters the restaurant through the backdoor, shouting for help.

     Alessia has been awake since he stated that she looked dead. She had opened her eyes to unveil that her dream is in fact reality and she is lying in someone's trash beside an overflowing dumpster. She also notes that the tall guy, who was blurry through her bangs, is going to get help, but help is still too far. Maybe if they were faster, they could've really saved her from the darkness that lurks the streets of Los Angeles, taking away lost kids.

     At the opening of the alley, a black SUV with midnight shades idles. A slim, tall man then steps out in a fitting, black, long-sleeved turtleneck sweatshirt and pleated dark pants. Her eyelids can only lift a bit higher at his approach. He isn't particularly muscular, but he picks her up like she weighs nothing, carrying her bridal style towards the car. He doesn't support her head, which hangs loosely over his arm and she can only watch her world turn upside down.

     The place where she had lain gets smaller.

     "This one's half dead, Petro."

     "We're still taking her, Lucy. She's breathing, isn't she?"

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