Two days. That's how long is hoarse and unfamiliar from underuse. Sighing, I devise a plan on how to get out of here without being captured by whatever's out there.

I take the serrated blade I swiped from the kitchen drawer before the creatures invaded my house from my belt and hold it in front of my face. Bringing my fingertips up to my bruised eye, I turn my face in the reflection of the silver knife. I'm completely haggard and gaunt looking, but I've seemed to maintain my naturally good looks. I laugh, a chilling sound that makes me shiver, at how conceited I sound. The blood from the starved-looking creature I encountered during the escape from my kitchen stains the tip of the shining blade in my hand.

Running my thumb over the bladI've been on my own since my family left me. I've been sitting in this concrete garage since the Rapture. The blood that had been running down the left side of my face is now dry, and beginning to aggrevate me. I reach an angry hand to the dried stream and scratch futiley. I bring my hand back down to my knee and find red flakes beneath my fingernails. "Fuck." I say. My voice e, I think about a second escape. I press my ear against the wall and quiet my breathing so I can hear what might be going on on the other side of the concrete. All is quiet so far, until a loud hiss seeps through the wall. I pull away in disgust. From what I can hear, I assume that there're atleast two or three fanged beasts in the kitchen. If I could get to the office across the house, I could go into what used to be my dad's gun cabinet and grab his AK-47 or his .23 Caliber. Before the Rapture, my dad taught me alot about guns. I never thought that his knowledge on weapons would be so useful until now.

I gather up as much courage as I dare and get up from the corner I've been sitting in. Pulling my hair back, I take a deep breath. My hand finds its way to the doorknob leading into the kitchen and I turn it. My jaw drops. The kitchen is worse than I left it.

What used to be the white fridge is now painted black and marked with a variety of pentagrams drawn in what I believe to be blood. All of the cabinets are either torn from their hinges and lying on the floor or are not there at all. Glancing around the corner, I feel my heart sink. A body. Possibly a Rapturee captured from mid-float by a demon and brought back here to either be transformed into one of them, or to be sacrificed. Or maybe a man that was left behind. The man lying on top of my overturned dining room table has dark hair and the five-pointed star that's become so familiar to me on his hip. He also appears to be naked. The man's ripped, with huge biceps and shoulders. It's a surprise that he got taken from the rapture. Looking around, I see that there're no creatures. In this room atleast.

I tiptoe my way through the chaotic mess that was once my kitchen and pass the stairwell. I have little time to notice the small demon crouching behind the banister. With a loud hiss, the demon pounces on me and we topple onto the ground. The demon's eyes are black as night and his ears are pointed. His black hair has been shaped into a spiked mohawk, similar to my ex-boyfriend Darren's hair. That's when I realize that Darren got left behind in the Rapture and this is his new form. His dark burgundy skin is hot and burns my shoulders when he pins me to the ground. "Certus sum vos non mordent animus ego explicabo." the demon Darren says. He darts forward, clasping his fangs into my throat. I let out a pained whimper and he bites down even harder.

I take a handful of Darren's hair and throw his head as far as I can away from me. I bring a trembling hand up to my throat, only to leave it burning. "You wanna play?" he asks. His voice is sickly sweet, like a madman's lullaby. The dark undertone of his speech makes me shiver. I am about to pull out my knife once more when he gets up, but I pause in mid-reach. When I threw him across the room, he cracked his head open on the first step in the staircase. There is now black blood running across the hardwood floor of my stairwell.

"You little bitch!" Darren says. That's all I hear before my knife finds his heart- or whatever's left of it. The black blood drips from his lower lip as his skin color goes back to a normal tan. His eyes lighten, and I see the deep blue that I'm used to. The points of his ears round out and he places a clammy hand over mine. "Thank you, Nicky." Darren says. His eyes glaze over and I know that he's gone. I shiver at the use of my old nickname. The last time I remember hearing it was when my mother was Raptured and she called out for me.

Tearing the knife from Darren's chest, I glance around to check for any other demons. Seems to be all clear. I get up, almost tripping over debris. The bite Darren gave me burns. The demons always keep their dwellings dark and cold for a reason I have yet to find out. Shivering, I untie my hoodie from around my waist and pull it over my head. I effortlessly make my way past drywall torn from the hallway and studs pulled from the walls. Eventually, I come to my dad's old office. Taking a deep breath, I turn the knob halfway, but I'm stopped by a strange feeling.

Sixteen, thirty-six, twenty-six, a voice says from the back of my head. I nod, but to whom, I can't say. The series of numbers makes absolutely no sense, until I realize it. It's the combination to the gun safe. I look back, making sure that I'm not being followed, before walking into my dad's office. The chair in the corner has all of the stuffing pouring out of deep scratch marks in the leather. I pull my knife once more from my belt and keep it ready to protect me. Making my way over to the gun safe is a time consuming journey, but I end up at the lock in a matter of minutes.

I enter the combination and pull open the door. My heart is enlightened when I see the array of weapons within the steel walls. The most appealing gun to me at the moment is the .23 Caliber. It's pretty much a one-shot kill if you hit your victim in the right place. I reach my hand into the safe and wrap my fingers around the pistol. I shove it into my belt and reach back in to grab the double-barrel shotgun. Thank God this gun's in here. Actually, I don't know who to thank anymore. I lean in and dig around for a shoulder-strap, and come out victorious. There are multiple boxes of bullets, so I grab as many of those as I can carry and bring them with me.

Clipping the strap onto the gun and slinging it over my shoulder, I begin to remember what happens after the Rapture. According to Christians, after the Rapture Jesus is supposed to lead a war against Satan and his followers. I can choose one side. I can either betray my religion-what's left of it, anyway- or side with the very person who betrayed me. Tough choice.

I take one step out of the office and I'm immediately aware of the burning sensation in my bite. I misjudged where Darren bit me. I thought he bit my throat, but he bit me on the shoulder. I shrug off the pain and walk up the stairs to my bedroom. The upstairs isn't as bad as the downstairs, but there's just as many pentagrams in blood on the wall. There're only five things I have to grab before I leave this place for good.

I walk past huge piles of debris to my parents' room. Striding across the place, I realize that I've begun to cry. I grab a picture of the two of them and stuff it in my pocket. My parents weren't the best, but they still raised me for seventeen years. And to think that the last thing I said to my father was "Stay out of my life, Jerry!" That had broken his heart. That was only a matter of hours before the Rapture began. I had stopped calling my dad "Daddy" at age ten. I stopped calling him "Dad" a few months ago. I stopped talking to my dad entirely almost three hours before we would never see eachother again.

I leave my parents' room and go across the hall to my own. As soon as I'm in, I've stopped crying. The memories from this room are so plentiful and welcoming that I completely forget that I'm probably the only person in this whole town. I waste no time in going to my dresser and pulling out a spare hoodie and another pair of jeans. I stuff them both into a small dufflebag and throw that over my shoulder along with the shotgun. I take the picture of my folks out of my pocket and the boxes of bullets and throw them in the dufflebag as well.

I'm about to walk out the door when I see my BFF necklace draped over a picture of my best friend since birth. Maddie had the bluest and most beautiful eyes that I'd ever seen, and a full head of ebony hair. She and I met when we were born. Our mothers went to high school together and had stayed in touch since then. My guess is that she was Raptured along with every other Saint and do-gooder. Either that or the demons have already gotten to her. I take the necklace and clasp it around my neck. Pressing the charm to my lips, I head out the door and down the stairs.

It seems that Darren was the only demon in the house, so I walk through the house with my guard let down. Not completely, but less than I would normally have it. I hold the loaded shotgun in front of me with my finger on the trigger, and the .23 in my belt along with my knife. I haven't brought along anymore weapons with me. There's an Academy down the street from my house, and I doubt that it's had too much destruction to its merchandise, so I'm going to pick up a few things that are necessary to my survival.

A female cry followed by breaking glass breaks me from my thoughts. I spin around, whipping the pistol from my belt. Scurrying from the bushes outside of a broken window of a house is a large demon. I bring the shotgun from around my shoulder and take a blind shot. It whizzes past the demon's ear, but that's enough to send him loping on all fours towards me. I turn to run, but the demon is on my back. The pistol flies from my hand and lands a few feet away from me. He lifts off of me enough to allow me to turn over and face him.

The demon has a sharp nose and beady eyes, kind of like my old science teacher Mr. Wroblewski. He even has the deuschbag beard like Mr. W's. "Videbo vos in principali ofice's, Ms. Legion." the demon says. That's when I know that Mr. W was left behind in the Rapture and turned into a follower of Satan. Mr. Wroblewski pins my arms down and bares his teeth at me in a snarl. I bring my knees to my chest and kick him as hard as I can. He lands five or six feet away from me and I scramble towards my pistol.

Before Wroblewski can crawl back to me, I have the gun in my hand. He growls at me one last time and I shove the barrel into his mouth and pull the trigger. Demon blood is absolutely grotesque. The black substance irritates skin upon contact and sticks to everything in its path. The goo blasts everywhere, including my face. I take my hoodie and wipe it off before it can burn my skin. Just to make sure that he's dead, I drive my knife deep into his heart. The same thing that happened to Darren happened to my old science teacher. His dark red skin fades back to its usual pale and Wroblewski's gone like that.

I make my way cautiously towards the house with the broken window. I keep my pistol at hand. "Hello?" I whisper loudly into the seemingly empty house. The only response I get is a female whimper from behind the couch. I walk swiftly towards the sofa and kneel down beside the bleeding youth on the floor. The girl looks about my age with black hair, but that's all I can see because her hair is draped over her face.

"I'm gonna get you out of here, ok?" I say to soothe the girl.

"Nicole?" the brunette whimpers. I'd recognize that voice anywhere.

"Mads?"