Chapter 2
It was dark. It had been ever since that tower rose from the depths of hell, bringing with it an onslaught of decay and demonic creatures, spirits and devils. Darkness was now the norm, the only light visible coming from houses abandoned or left untouched by the destructive force of the tower and its...companions, which were flitting about the city like they owned it. Actually, more like they were looking for something, or someone. Striking fear into each remaining city dweller - or brutally killing them.
Bianca'd seen every bit of it since she left her mother's ruined house, and every last bit of it terrified her.
Blood ran in the gutters of the streets, staining the cement with intermingling dark maroons and bright reds. What wasn't consumed by the evil parading around the city was ultimately left in the streets, a display laid out for all who still remained to see, only to be forgotten and seen by only those who look where they're going. And no one chose to look, if any came by at all. Children especially. They were often blindfolded or warned not to look, but they were becoming a rare commodity in this new world, so few of them were seen to begin with.
The staggering loss of children was enough to drive a person mad, as it should. The entire situation was enough to drive the whole world mad, let alone a few people. Bianca couldn't stand it. Blood was a mere blip on her radar when compared to children. They were the world's future and history, slowly being snuffed out bit by bit. Lives go without living, families go without thriving, and relationships go unmade. The world goes without changing.
Bianca sighed softly, the silence hanging in the air disrupted. Not even the subtle squeaks of the city rats could be heard, nor the gurgled screams of dying refugees, as if the eye of the storm had made its way to the town, providing the illusion of safety. 'The coast is clear.' But it wasn't. Bianca knew, ducking into the shadows and hiding from the street lights. She knew the evil creatures were flitting about, even if she hadn't seen one yet. They were still there. That alone was enough to keep her on edge and in hiding. She breathed slowly and quietly, taking careful steps in the tiny lawns belonging to the city houses, clad in mismatched socks and summer clothes.
The night was warm and quiet, the air sticky and humid. It screamed danger, false safety. And the blood from the day's demonic massacre hung in the air, clinging to Bianca's skin and dampening her clothes. Her feet were soaked to the bone by now, her heart thumping erratically in her chest. She looked ahead of her frantically, eyeing the vacant space across from her at the end of the street. It was only a few hundred feet away. And she told herself that, twisting the words in her mind to make them sound minuscule. Like nothing could happen in the space of the ten minutes it took to walk those few hundred feet.
And still she hid in the shadows.
She couldn't bring herself to look in the street, knowing all too well what she'd see. Chills ran down her spine at the mere mention of what could possibly be there. She knew. It was filled to the brim with the blood and guts of unknowing passersby and refugees, children and adults alike. Intestines strewn about like tinsel around a Christmas tree, hearts tossed around like bloody ornaments, and teeth and bones for the lights. She knew that it was all laid out for the world to see, and it broke her frightened heart. She told herself over and over not to look, stick to the shadows, hide. Hide, hide, hide. It was her mantra. It was safety. It was her deceit, self betrayal.