A/N: This whole backstory/origin is a work in progress. I will be rearanging scenes and adding more in-between, so you will find [CONTENT MISSING] information in a lot of spaces. If you want to be the most up-to-date on everything related to this series, I would recommend going to /jenhunter :)
Just consider it random time skips for now. And we're starting by skipping the first 12 years of Fallen's life:
[12 YEARS OF CONTENT MISSING :)]
"I don't care what I have to do, I'm not going to spend another six years of my life in that place!" the girl shouted, nearly pushing her chair to fall on the ground as she stood up.
"I'm sorry, I don't want it either, but we ran out of money and we can't do this alone" her mother said with disappointment.
"What we can't do is go back to that!" the palms of her hands were turning white from how hard she pushed them against the tabletop. "You know I'm ready do to anything. I can go and sell my fucking body on the streets if money's the problem! We can sell everything we have and move into the smallest, cheapest apartment we can find! I can work illegally and in a few years I can work legally! Anything, but coming BACK!"
[CONTENT MISSING]
The satisfied, superior glint in the old woman's eye was the pinnacle of assholery as the girl huddled her belongings past her grandmother. She held her head high and responded with the same, cold and spiteful look, but on the inside, she was boiling. With rage, frustration, disappointment, and every offshoot of these. Just a volcano of emotions ready to erupt and cause her to go on a killing spree.
She dropped the last of her bags on the floor of the new room she was assigned. This one used to be her parents' bedroom, but after the recent 'renovations' it became hers, and her old one became a part of the grandparent's half of the house. It was bigger and lighter than her old one, but she hated it.
They could never possibly have a room grand enough to bribe her into wanting to move back to this house. Leave alone how the room was in the same hall where her parent's bedroom, the used-to-be living room, was located. Even her previous privacy provided by a staircase was now stripped away in favor of their door being maybe four feet apart.
[CONTENT MISSING]
The stench of alcohol flooded the entire long corridor and still managed to irritate the girl's nostrils in the dining room beyond it. She grimaced with disgust as strained huffs and groans of the man reached her ears. Irregular shuffling and muffled clatter told her that her father was stumbling his way deeper into the house.
She lifted her brown eyes to her mother behind the curved portal that separated the dining room from the kitchen. The woman remained still at her spot by the sink, her hands still busy with washing the dishes, and her face angled down. Her shoulders seemed more tense, but that was the only tell she was even aware of the man stumbling into her view.
He wobbly stood at the cased opening between the main corridor and the kitchen. The girl couldn't see him, but whenever her father was around she observed him with all of her senses; the intensifying stench, low sounds of materials rubbing on each other, and disgusting sound of his irregular breathing would be enough to tell where he is, even if he wasn't being this loud while dragging his semi-limp body from one spot to the next.
A minute passed in silence. Her pencil hovered over the notebook, not wanting to reveal her own presence with the sounds of it on paper. Her mother continued washing the dishes, not sparing an actual glance to her right-hand side, where the man hovered, his dazed, hazel eyes surveying his wife in a drunken stupor.
Beer-colored. That's the literal translation of what hazel eyes were called here. It was almost hilarious how fitting the name was, and as a small child, she used to wonder if he got beer-colored eyes from drinking too much beer.
A deep, agonized sound tore from his throat; presumably a word or a sentence that only he could understand, but his open jaw and toxified brain weren't able to form clearly enough for anybody else to make out. After a few seconds of lingering silence, a similar sound drew from him, this time more demanding. Whatever he wanted, the mindless beast was frustrated by not getting it.
The man stumbled his way into the kitchen and stopped semi-resting his weight against his wife. Now his dirty, sweaty clothes were as clear to the girl's eyes as his smell was to her nose. She remained quiet to keep his attention away from her own self. He groaned something, another incomprehensible string of words, this time breathed right into his wife's face.
She continued to ignore him, even as he hung at her arm making it semi-impossible to continue doing the dishes.
After a moment of being ignored, the man's head turned and he spotted the girl sitting at the dining table. She sighed as he swayed his body in her direction and took his first two, fumbling steps. Her mother continued to focus on the dishes.
The girl scooped up her writing and drawing tools into her notebook and got up.
The stench of alcohol, failing liver, sweat, and grime became sickening for a brief moment as she scurried past him, twisting her body in a way that allowed her to avoid his filthy hands that clumsily reached out in her direction. A dozen feet across the hall she slipped into her room and closed the door. For a lingering moment, she waited by the door, just observing through the yellow-tinted, heavily textured glass.
The shadow beyond grew larger and stopped a few feet outside of the door. She placed her notebook on the nearest cabinet to free her hands and secured her foot against the bottom of the door, but after a moment of aimlessly swaying, the shadow stumbled to the left and disappeared into the living room, which currently doubled as the master bedroom.
With another tired grimace, the girl stepped back from the door, picked up her notebook again, and headed to her bed.
The quiet only lasted for so long. The beast didn't need to be poked to become enraged, it did very well fueling its own anger by its own sickly thoughts.
[CONTENT MISSING]
"If you don't get us out of here real fucking soon, you'll lose me for good. This is the final warning."
Her mother didn't respond, only gave her a short grimace, likely caused more by the foul language than the message. It caused the girl's blood to boil just a little bit more. The brunette clenched her fist and stood up from the dining table.
"Clearly, you're not taking me seriously enough" she said, her voice lowered to keep control over it. "Watch me show you exactly how wrong you are."
[CONTENT MISSING]
She punched the wall.
She threw her notebook on the desk and flipped it to the page where her plan was carefully crafted; everything to learn, everything to pack, everything to do and avoid. Bullet point by bullet point, her escape plan laid before her eyes, ready to be made a reality.
She threw a khaki, over-the-shoulder bag onto the black, leather office chair and emptied it of the supplies she usually carried. She repacked a few of them and carefully filled the remaining space with items from her list. Everything from guides to wild mushrooms and plants, waterproof lighter (grabbed a long time ago from her survival-tools obsessed couch-potato sorry excuse of an uncle), through a multi-tool pocket knife, solar power bank for her mp3 player, a hand crank flashlight, to cash saved up on every occasion for a while, a bunch of high-calorie protein bars and beef jerky for desperate times.
[CONTENT MISSING]
She stood on the empty train tracks that led into the night, her hand holding onto the solitary bag and her eyes trained on the great darkness swallowing the tracks. As always, the feeling of something lurking in the darkness made tension grow in her body, but it was a pleasant grip compared to the idea of turning around and climbing back through that window.
She inhaled deeply and pulled out a small mp3 player from her pocket. She unwrapped the wired earphones from it and switched it on. As it loaded she pulled out the hand crank flashlight and switched it on, too. The beam ran along the track in front of her just as The Rasmus started playing in her earphones.
She stepped forward into the night, acutely aware of the words of the song.
"No fear. Destination: darkness." she repeated under her breath and headed into the night.
