Chapter 1: Requiem For Happy Days

Music: Like A Dog Chasing Cars - Hans Zimmer And James Newton Howard

"Sprinting. Scrambling. Speeding.

Hopeless. Faithless. Pointless.

'Badump,Badump, Badump, Badump'

My heart was pounding, pulsing; ready to break free from the skeleton that protected it, ready to completely burst, taking my person with it; beckoning more oxygen, which, unfortunately, the lungs could not give, there was not enough time.

My legs were aching, hurting, covered in dirt and debris from the slums, but they seemed to work just fine where dashing was concerned though, fueled by fear; my undying fear.

'BADUMP! Badump, Badump, Badump'

Racing through the small alleyways, where villagers brushed their children to the side, in fear that, well, quite logically so, that I would end up trampling them.

Everything just occurred to me as a blur, the crates piled atop one another along the old-indigo brick walls, neon green graffiti strewn along the sides, the elderly homeless folk complaining on how the youthful were such 'ruffians' and 'complete maniacs' I hated giving my age group a bad name, but I had no choice, what does pride matter if your dead?

All of these thoughts were processing in my mind, why was this time so different from the others?

How come this crime I committed drawn so much attention?

Why did act so...un-stealthy...clumsy...most importantly, idiotic?

'BADUMP! BADUMP! Badump, Badump'

I could still hear his gigantic, faux leather, steel-capped shoe slapping against the mud as he bounded across the sticky, thick, poor excuse of a road, that squelched every time his heel made contact with the earth.

I couldn't see him, apart from the brief few moments that I swung my head round to look at the fellow; but I was too focused on escaping this monster of a man.

He had a gigantic, heavy jawline, giving him the jowl's of a bulldog, quite comically so.

The beast's teeth were like tombstones that protruded from both his bottom and top lip, somewhat like what a vampire would look like if said vampire was hit in the face a few dozen times with a saucepan.

You could easily tell that his hat was something from a pawn shop or something, it was tattered and torn, of no use to anyone; I'm sure that anyone and everyone will recognize something from a second-hand shop, especially if it was clothes wear.

As for the rest of his outfit, I wasn't quite sure, he was soaked from the neck to toe in the dirt.

I still continue to think that he wasn't aware of how stupid he looked, his formerly sparkling white shirt would slap against his skin every time they made contact, he was just that covered in mud; if this man had any dignity before, he sure doesn't have any now.

'BADUMP! BADUMP! BADUMP! Badump'

Turning my attention from the raging bear-like man behind me, I ran in all directions to keep him off my tail, left, right, up, down; even if it did mean hiding in a skip, it would be a God send.

Much to my misfortune, it did not happen, I looked past every trash-can, every skip, every store; but me running at full-speed into a convenient store would only attract more suspicion.

I ran and ran and ran, for what must have been about five minutes felt like five years, I just wanted to sleep!

But my legs weren't willing to give way yet, much in contrast to both my willpower and my lungs.

I was heaving, panting like a rabid hound, voice raspy with the quick inhales and exhales of minute breaths of air.

'BADUMP! BADUMP! BADUMP! BADUMP!'

I could have sworn I was seeing naught but darkness, I could have sworn I had blacked-out, I could have sworn...

I could have sworn I was a dead.

The only thing that kept me sure of my consciousness was the staggering pain that both my heart and lungs were forced to endure, I wasn't athletically fit at all, I was fit enough to get by, but not for this.

Myth says that when you're body is pushed to it's limits, or is in danger, it can do miraculous things.

I guess I was kind of experiencing one of those moments.

I kept urging my muscles to keep going, pushing my body so hard that my headaches were becoming more painful with every second that ticked by.

I looked into my palm, the object which I stole from him in the first place; even I myself wasn't sure of what it was, it just appeared to be a normal fruit to me, but when I took the deep mahogany color into account, the sharp points that occurred on it's circumference every so often and the bright, lush green stalk, it must have came from a foreign country; but then taking into account how mad the merchant seemed, it must have cost quite a generous amount for him to obtain.

Then again, it seemed tha-

'THUMP'

Walls...Something you forget to look out for eventually.

'...Badump...Badump...-'

Exhausted, Weary, Lifeless.

To be quite frank with you, I wasn't completely sure whether I was dead or alive, all I could smell was that of the earth, nauseatingly strong yet refreshing at the same time.

My body felt like doing nothing but lay there idly, waiting until someone came along with a shallow phrase...something like "Get that damn corpse of the street!", "Walk around it! You might catch some sort of disease! It must be rotten with it!" or even "CAN I POKE IT?"

None of the nobles would refer to us as a gender, just 'it', 'thing', we were naught but a number to them, not even that in fact, we were mere objects, insects, those we lived on the underbelly of the world.

"We'll just hide them down here and hope no one looks!", good luck with that, sir; even though I'm still young, at the age of thirteen...

These men that were well into their forties acted like mere infants...

It was the sort of act where children were told to clean their room, but brushed everything under the rug, hoping mommy wouldn't look.

Unfortunately, these tricks work for the most part. I just pray for the day this city takes a good look at itself to come soon.

Anyway, back to the main. I was laying there, lifeless like a dead body, a corpse.

I was lain there for hours upon hours, my legs were scarred and bruised from the hunt yesterday, pieces of rusted, jagged barbed wire stuck into my leg like knife through butter.

As for my organs, they weren't consent to working as the time was, perhaps it was just because I was face-first on the floor, but more than likely because I pushed myself too hard, I was too afraid, I was ignorant to what my body needed, to be blunt, I was vain.

My arms were drenched in a pool of scarlet liquid, rags completely saturated and dripping, it was already attracting some curious sewer rats, that bobbed their heads up and down occasionally out of the sewer.

Slowly, but surely, I slid a hand beneath me, giving me something to support my useless, weak torso on.

I had to be careful with how I moved, I wasn't sure how capable I was of moving inches, let alone run back to the little place I called home.

I gradually placed my other arm beneath me, giving me more support, which I would require to actually get up.

I was then in a sort of, press-up stance, even though my legs were reluctant, I managed to get myself up and standing, using the walls to help, albeit.

My arms hurt so much, I could remember the day prior, I had to keep swinging them back and forth to gain a faster pace...every time I thought about scraping the tender skin on my upper arm along the brick walls, I clutched the muscle tightly; not that this would do me much good, if not at all, but it would at least give me the re-assurance that it's safe, in my grasp.

I crossed all the old streets, the weary, old women who shuddered in case I harmed them or mugged them, the thugs who had escaped Arkham, then finally the minute metal-gate which opened into the ventilation system...otherwise the only way to find my home for the time being"

The petite, black-headed girl had finished her story, and, despite the jagged scar running from the top of her forehead to the bottom of her chin and her disturbing story, she smiled happily.

-*-

Phew, end of Chapter one! :3 Tell me what you guy's think! XD