CHAPTER ONE: Arrival
Disclaimer: I laugh at you if you think I own Suzanne Collins's The Underland Chronicles. If I did, I wouldn't be writing fanfiction!
"I don't want to live here."
The fifteen-year-old in the backseat of the cab leaned her head against the window. Tendrils of silver-brown hair dangled in her face lazily as the murky brown eyes looked out the window at the slow-passing buildings and bright neon lights of Times Square.
"Demi, this won't be the worst thing to happen to you, it's just a new city." Her father insisted, ruffling her hair in the fatherly way that many children know as a sign of comfort.
Demi was not comforted by the simple gesture. She was disgusted, repulsed, that her parent would uproot her from Virginia and drag her to New York against her will. It didn't make sense to her. Why was it so important that they move? There wasn't any new job. The family of two was just moving into Demi's grandparent's old apartment. Mr. Guerrier had insisted it was a change of pace and wouldn't last long, that it was going to be good for the both of them.
The cab stopped at an apartment complex, screaming with the look of near abandonment.
Stepping out of the cab first, Demi Guerrier was rather tall for her age, and lanky. The straight silver-brown hair rested on her shoulders, though the bangs hung over her eyebrows with the look of neglect that over seven hours travel could give a girl. The heart-shaped face was marred by a look of utmost terror and shock.
"Dad, I'm not staying here." She whispered to the tall, tan man fetching two duffels from the trunk. "It's probably haunted…or worse, rat-infested."
Mr. Guerrier chuckled as he walked past his daughter, handing her dark blue bag to her. The teen buckled with the weight of her combined clothes, books, and scooter in the bag, squeaking as the blue canvas-like material duffel brought her to an awkward position (her knees locked together, slightly bent and her arms straining while her hands gripped the black handles).
Despite one's belief, she was terrified of rats. Baby rats, big rats from the sewers, small rats from inside their old kitchen in Virginia…she couldn't watch Ratatouille because of the rats, no matter if they were cuddly and cute or not. It was almost pathetic.
Walking forward and through the doors, she dragged her duffel behind her. When her eyes met the lobby, she saw an empty lobby that reminded her of the lobby from the Tower of Terror ride in Disney World. "This place is empty." Demi said softly, hand gliding over a side table, leaving a trail of clean where before lay a layer of dust.
What kind of place is this?