A/N Yeah so my laptop is taking random dumps in the middle of stuff, and basically is not working at all so I'm clandestinely updating from my husband's laptop which has none of my work and I can't save anything on here or else he will find it and probably think I'm demented. He doesn't know about this fanfiction stuff, and I think he would find it somewhat immature. Not the writing portion, but devoting time to writing fiction of a dedicated anime (to him it would be a kid's cartoon). So I won't be updating much for a while until we figure out what to do with my computer (probably saving all my stuff onto his external HD and wiping it clean and reinstalling the whole shebang). Thus this chapter will be EXTEREMLY short. And if someone could PLEASE tell me what city YYH takes place in, that would be great.
Prologue
"Holy shit not again," I hissed as I heard the downstairs door slam. We lived in a low-income apartment complex but I recognized that level of ferocity as the second-story window panes shook. Michael was unforgivably drunk.
He was fumbling with his key, the scratches all around the keyhole evidence of the many times this incident had occurred. I quietly stood from my seat on the couch and ran into the one bedroom we all shared—Michael; our son, Maverick; and myself; and gently lifted Maverick out of bed, wrapping his blanket around him.
The door opened none too quietly and Michael was calling for me. "Triiiinityyyyy…TRINITY! You fucking bitch!"
I tiptoed across the dark room with my bundle, holding my phone, and slid into the closet where I had installed a deadbolt on the inside for such occurrences and preceded to text my friend Matt, telling him to call the police. Maverick stirred, waking up. I prayed to whatever God there was to keep him silent or we would be found. I heard Michael walk into the room, searching aloud for his "loving family." I tried to keep my panic in check so I wouldn't scare Mav. I began hyperventilating despite my best efforts.
The door began rattling. He found us. I slowly began setting Mav behind me, so there would be some sort of a shield between him and the monster. I would die before he would lay a hand on our son. I bared my teeth, snarling quietly, the animalistic rage building as I prepared him to break the lock off the door.
Maverick's small chubby hand found its way to my cheek. He was standing, the hanging clothes bent to accommodate his form. "It's alright, mommy," he said softly. As he smiled reassuringly, a white, angelic glow began to grow from him.
The next thing I knew we were in an alley way in Tokyo.