Caution: So this is the part where I talk about what this story will contain in its future. I'll just give it to you plainly.

Religion, Suicide, Torture, sexual interactions, abuse, and RAPE. That last one is a big concern of mine when I get further into this story. It's something that I'm not writing for the fun or the fame. But for the story. And that's it. I do not have any good feelings towards the topic. And I won't speak of it much in the notes from here on out.

This is the final warning before you get into this story.

Chapter 1

Every part of my being cries out to stars that would not answer. To a God I believe existed. I gave him my prayers. I gave him my belief. But I am never answered. And in these moments. I have always questioned whether or not this God that my father preaches of actually exists. Or if everything I have understood is a lie.

'It would be nothing new.'

I thought the faithful in god could never be corrupted. I believed there could be no breaking the laws of the Lord. But I was wrong. They're all heretics. False believers who make themselves out to be protectors of the Lord's' will, who will carry out the Lord's will, and who will be the Lord's will. But that's never true. It never has been.

This religion that my family follows and leads is nothing but corruption and deceit. Used as a manner of power and fame to control the kingdom of nightmares we live in. Used to fuel these Crusades of Faith as they call it. No man, woman, or child can deny the powers of the church or its residents lest they be accused of unfaithfulness. It is one of the greatest sins to them. To deny the Lord and his followers. To deny the laws he has set out for us to follow and obey without ever questioning them. But something burns in me brighter than the flames that fill my belly. Brighter than the agony that fills my soul.

I cannot help but to believe that this so called God doesn't exist. How can I? He has never given us a sign or brought us a miracle. And no one has ever seen him. Those that say they have cannot identify how the Lord came to them. And every time someone meets the Lord. His body is somehow different as if he takes another form to greet each person differently. But there would be no reason for that. Should be no reason for that. What God hides his true form from the people they created? To me. A god that's false. A god that never really existed in our lives. But instead in our beliefs. Because that's all it it. A belief with no true evidence to support its ideas.

But who am I in this world to speak out against the Lord and his laws. I am the youngest of my family. Expected to follow and to preach of the Lord and his great doings. My word will mean nothing unless it is of the Lord and his greatness. My life will be nothing if I have no faith in the lord. But why must I live like this? To live in a world where no one will love me. Where my mate will be chosen for me. Where I must be forced to live with someone I have no feeling for. No emotion for. No love for.

Part of me has always thought of running. To leave this Kingdom of Heaven, or so they call it, and to run and to run and to run so far that their claws and teeth cannot slash and bite at me anymore. To be free from these iron chains that tie me to my family and their beliefs. But they would catch me. I would be too slow and them to fast. He would be too fast to outrun. And he would punish me. Break my will to live. To feel innocent. But is anyone ever really innocent? Can anyone ever really avoid committing sins?

But what would it be worth to try and escape? Where would I go and how would I live? I would start out with nothing. To be nothing. Somehow that didn't feel all that bad. To not have people expecting something from me. To not have beliefs and responsibilities forced upon me. I could be my own person. To forge my own destiny. A life that could be anything I want it to be. But what would the cost be? Nothing can never really be simple. For that would be a utopia.

"Are you still in bed? What will father think once he hears of how you have overslept again?" a whispery voice said.

A stunningly beautiful umbreon stood in the frame of the door. My older sister Mercy. My father gave her that name. He believed that she would grow up to be a great woman who would carry out the will of the Lord. And he would make sure of it. Mercy was forced to go to church every day and was educated to know each of the Lord's prayers by heart at the age of seven. By the age of twelve, she was a symbol of faith in the kingdom. Or at least that's what the high priests wanted everyone to believe.

Now at twenty-one years of age. Secretly at night my sister goes out with a group of soldiers on the priests commands to beat and, if necessary, kill anyone that defied the church. But it wasn't just people who didn't believe in the Lord. People who didn't commit to the society, people who spoke of another religion, and even people the priests or their friends do not like. And to make matters worse. Mercy did not live up to her name.

Her methods were cruel and heartless. Usually with the intent to humiliate her victim. Those who got lucky were just given a beating and a warning that followed. But even the beatings resulted in broken bones or permanent damage. Those who weren't so lucky were broken. Their bodies beaten to disfigurement and their will to live torn away from them. And Mercy was very creative in her methods. Scarring, amputating, shaming, she even attacked family or friends of her victim. No one was safe in the kingdom.

"I-I'm sorry. I couldn't sleep," I responded hoping to evade another beating from father.

I always wanted to believe that father loved me. To believe I held a place in the family. But he never once cared for me. He always loved Mercy and Jameson more than because they were older and because I was a mistake to him. He only ever talks to me if it is about the Lord. He acts as if I'm invisible if it isn't. And he'll beat me if I fail to meet his expectations. Something I pay the price for almost every day. Something I'll most likely pay the price for now.

"Are you giving excuses? Again? How shameful. To think our family has grown to be something so great and so powerful. And yet. We have a tiny flaw," Mercy said harshly. And though she was harsh. She was off. Something had happened and it was bothering her. I know because Mercy is never bothered by anything. "Well. I'd say it's your lucky day. Father wants the whole family to hold a meeting in the church. And believe it or not. You're the topic."

"What? Why?" I asked with fear in my heart. Never in my life had father held a meeting about me. He always did when it was about him, Jameson, or Mercy. But never me. And I knew it wouldn't be anything pleasant.

"Don't know. Don't care. Just know if you don't arrive on time. Father is going to be very, very upset. And you remember what happened last time. Don't you?" Mercy threatened sending flashes of that night father had left me out in the storm as punishment. I couldn't bare thinking about it.

"Y-yes big sis," I stuttered nervously trying to avoid her piercing gaze. Every umbreon had red eyes. So of course there's fear at first sight when someone looks at them. But Mercy's eyes were different. It's like she could stare into my soul with them. Part of me believed she could.

"Good. Then hurry up. He's already in a bad mood," she said before walking out of my room mumbling something under her breath.

I know I should get ready. But I buried my head into the fluff of my pillow. One thing I always loved doing was sleeping. It might seem that everyone enjoys the same thing. But I enjoy it because I, even for a couple of hours, can bury my stress and my worries in the back of my mind where I can't see or feel them. Where I can be truly free of reality. Of this nightmare I live in.

'Time to get up Angelica. Can't keep father waiting.'

I grabbed the blanket and pushed it off my body letting the cool air pick and nip at me. I never liked the cold. Part of that was for the obvious reason of being a flareon. But even when I was an eevee I still hated it. Something about having to have a coat or a blanket over your back to keep warm versus basking in the rays of the sun on a field felt stupid. And being further up North didn't help either.

I lifted my body off of the bed and onto the soft carpet laid out beneath me. I stretched my body starting with my forelegs and then my hind legs. I felt the fire in the pit of my stomach burn more warming my body to fight off the cold.

My room was like any and every other room in the castle. White, empty, and boring with the exception of my personal items. Though I didn't have much. Father says we had to earn the right to personal items. And not from working a job or with money. But instead by pleasing him. However, he's only allowed to force that upon us until the age of twenty-one. Which meant I still had another four years to go.

The few personal items I had were rewards from small tasks I had done when I was little. Father was easier on us when we were little. But not so much when we reached the double digits.

One of the items I had gotten first was a picture of mother who passed away before I ever got the chance to remember her. A gorgeous vaporeon who was not thin nor fat. But just perfect. If the Lord truly does exist. Then he must've sculpted her body himself. No one else could match her.

Father never talked about her much. And the times that he did. It would only be of what she would've wanted from me. For me and my siblings to grow up with strong religious beliefs so that we could lead our people. And it's the same thing from Jameson and Mercy. They tell me only what they want me to know. But I know better. I know they hide the truth from me.

The item I had gotten right after that was a stuffed vaporeon. Another item to remind me of her. I slept with it every night to help me calm down. I felt safe when I held it. It and the picture were two of my only connections to her.

I looked at the stuffed vaporeon and the picture one last time before walking out of my room. I shut the door behind me and stood alone in the halls of the castle. The halls, like the rooms, had nothing to call them special. A few tables would be on the side with vases on top and the walls would occasionally bear a painting. Of course the paintings were either of Heaven, the Lord, or the Lord's symbol. A golden X with a circle in the middle and two curves to the right and left of it. Each intersection of the two curves and the X had a jewel in the center.

I couldn't tell what time it was. It looked like it must've been somewhere from nine to eleven with the sun up and and pouring through the window. The rays of light felt nice on my fur. Feeling the sun's warmth flow through me. A way of counteracting the sharp cold.

I shook my head as to escape my trance. I had already overslept and I didn't want to even think of what would happen if I were late. I turned to the right and began to make my way down the long white halls.

It was a quiet morning today. Usually there would be maids and servants mopping the floors or cleaning the art on the walls. But no one was around giving me new chills. I turned the next corner quickly hoping to escape the halls and bumped into someone.

"I'm sorry I was-" I lost my voice as I stared into the eyes of a grinning glaceon.

My older brother Jameson. The twenty-five year old is infamously known throughout the kingdom as the Scourge of the Faithless. Where Mercy preferred to strike silently during the night. Jameson took a more direct approach during the day. He didn't care what someone was doing at the moment of his arrival and he didn't care if anybody was watching. He would make you suffer in any way he could.

His ways of making someone suffer were just as cruel as Mercy's that usually ended with him publicly humiliating his victim and then warning anybody who's listening that the same thing would happen to them if they dared defy the Lord. And like Mercy, he would also use family of the victim as a way of torturing them. He would beat wives, husbands, even children if he felt like it.

But Jameson was far worse than Mercy in every way. He crossed a line that even father would call unholy. Jameson had power as the son of the church and he knew it. But how he truly used that power was to force people into silence. Was to break them slowly not of their bones, but of their will and their innocence. And then force them to be quiet or he would have them executed. And who could stop him. No one could say anything because no one would take the word of a citizen over the word of the son of the church lest they defy the Lord himself.

The only people who knew about his dark secret were the ones who had felt its wrath. The ones who endured it and were forced into silence. The ones who lost their faith in the lord.

"I'm sorry. I didn't hear you little princess. Do you mind repeating?" he said staring down at me.

I swiftly looked down not wanting to look him in the eyes. But I could feel his deep gaze. I could always feel that gaze. "I-I-I wasn't l-looking. I-I'm sorry."

"Hmm," he hummed above me as a snout touched the side of my right cheek making me flinch. I was shaking now. My body rumbling on its own and the fire in my gut had now retreated into a withering flame. I felt his slimy tongue slide across my cheek down to my neck where he kissed me. "Don't you know to pay attention to where you're going little princess?"

"I-I-I…" the words I had wanted to say slipped away from me and it took me a few seconds to finally say, "I-I'm s-s-sorry."

His paw reached around to the left side of my body pulling me against him. My mind was racing with fear. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't run. Couldn't escape. He had me trapped and there was nothing I could do.

"Sorry won't work little princess. I'm going to need you to make it up to me," he said cackling into my neck.

Flashes of all the nights he had opened the door to my room. When he would lock us in there alone. When he would afflict me in the worst ways imaginable. His dark secret had an even deeper secret embedded within it. Something so cruel and terrible it would surely get him hanged. But he didn't care. Because he knew I would never accuse him of it. That I would never speak out against him. And deep inside. I knew it too.

"P-please. I-I'm sorry. It won't h-happen again. I p-promise," I said struggling to escape his cold grip. What could I do? Struggling was pointless. Fighting was pointless. I would never win against him. I could never win against him.

He pulled away from me and used one of his paws to lift up my chin so that he could stare me in the eyes. He frowned before saying, "It's too bad. Father wants us to come to the church for some meeting about you. Which means we can't spend brother sister time together. Maybe another time. I won't let what happened today go. Remember that little princess."

"I-I will," I said feeling ease as he turned around and began walking. I fought against the urge to turn the other way and run. Nothing or no one could save me from this Hell. I was bound to my family by a chain that could not be broken and surrounded by a wall that could not be climbed. This Kingdom of Heaven was a prison and I its prisoner. I felt tears fill my eyes as I stood up and began to follow my brother to the church.

So here's the deal. I don't want to continue writing something that people will hate or find offensive. If this story doesn't get positive feedback. I will stop writing it. It's okay to be upfront with me about. Even Pm me if you need to. I need to know.

Chapter 1 wasn't that aggressive and I don't think we'll be reaching those heights for a while. But it will definitely reach them. Just be cautious my friends.

Criticism and reviews are appreciated. See you next time.

"Make the leap" - Nice Guy Wolf