Chapter One

Chapter One

Coleridge is unusually quiet tonight.

The clouds have gathered overhead, and the city will probably be receiving a soft downpour in the minutes to come.

I sit atop Tower Hall and gaze down at the city streets, one leg up to my chest and the other tucked in below it. My black hair scoops over my face, just barely covering over half of it, blocking the vision from my left eye. My katana rests quietly beside me, leaning against a loose brick. My cloak is on, hood up over my head to protect myself from the rain I’ve already predicted.

Everything seems so still in the moment, I almost forget to breathe.

A cold droplet has me glancing up at the sky to have another land on my nose. I wipe it away with the back of my leather glove as I glance back at Coleridge and its citizens.

They’re closing the stores for the night, some making quick dashes across the street under newspapers or magazines. Some are fortunate enough to own an umbrella and have it on them at the time.

Cars weave their ways into garages or parking lots outside hotels. I can see rats taking shelter in the dumpsters as the rain becomes heavier. Homeless citizens hide in patched tents and sleeping bags, while packing up whatever they can scavenge for the night.

The city will be lucky if the rain persists all night. It keeps the Voices away and that’s another lucky soul saved from their hungry mouths. All lies, or truth, are drowning out by the pounding rain, and I pull my scarf over my nose and mouth, tying it off as I stand.

The katana is slung on my back as I climb down the building and land on a balcony. Leaving inside it, I leave the lights off and head to the couch. Then halt momentarily to remember that I must lock my windows.

I turn to the window, close them, and slide the three, hand-made locks into place. They make a snap sound as metal meets metal and cling to each other.

I draw the shades and set my katana beside the TV. I’ve left the DTV box on, and notice this once I lie on the couch. Lazily, I scoot the remote over with my foot and turn it off to save myself the expense of having it on when no one was watching it.

I live alone with my cat, in a three bedroom apartment. There are two bathrooms and a large, marble kitchen. Usually I leave my apartment unlit to both save on expenses and because I find that I grow fewer migraines when the lights are off.

My cat mews from below me on the floor and rubs her head against my hand. I close my eyes and scoop her into my hand, bringing her onto my chest so I may pet her.

I kiss the top of her head and smile gently to myself as I scratch and pet her gently. She purrs, pawing at my shirt, and licking at my chin. Again, a smile escapes my lips in the dark.

The ceiling is white. I figured it out one day when I had the lights on. But with the moon trying to peek through my blinds, it had thin lines of grey on it. My eyes follow them to the blinds and back again.

Clouds over the apartment send pouring rain over it and I can hear it collect in the gutter. It pinks and plinks against the windows. Letting out a sigh, I relax into the cushions, closing my eyes.

Switten, my little black cat, stretches, curls up, and sleeps on my chest. She continues to purr through her sleep, warm breath reaching my chin and no further.

The streets sound distant as I drift into a trance with the rain. No screaming or lying tonight. A night I can finally get some rest. I tilt my head and snuggle into the pillow beside me, letting out another sigh.

Relaxed, I settle into sleep.

------

All is silent when I awake. The rain has stopped. Switten is lying on the top of the couch instead. I’ve curled around the pillow I used last night. My katana has been moved, or knocked over. I notice the breeze from the window and tense up.

Instantly, without another thought, my body springs up and I shut them as quickly as I can. They clang together, metal locks smacking into each other. I wince slightly at the sound and then settle, letting myself relax as I move to the back of the apartment room and head to my bathroom.

I snatch a towel from the rack as I pass by it and then strip down to nothing, glancing at myself in the mirror. My body has collected scars and bruises over the years, and it’s annoyingly noticeable on my skin. I wish I could ignore it as I step into the shower, but then stop as I glance down and see blood spiraling down my thigh.

My nose scrunches up as I wipe it off and see the cut across my upper thigh. Scowling, I step into the shower and let the water run warm. I hiss quietly to myself and reach for the shampoo. Lathering up a good amount I add it to my hair, grabbing the bar of soap.

I rinse the shampoo from my hair and rub the bar against my skin and soap up my body. Then shave and snatch up the conditioner. I turn it over and squeeze, but nothing comes out. It just wheezes in defeat. With a groan I toss it into the garbage beside the shower and quickly pull out another bottle from the many others I’ve stored under the sink.

After I step out of my shower I notice my thigh is irritated and red around the cut. I cup my hand around it and bite my lip as I make it to the cabinet and knock over pill bottles to get to the medic-kit.

Switten purrs and rubs up against my good leg as I sit on the toilet lid and gauze my leg. She mewls up at me and purrs again.

“Hey, sweetheart.” I pick her up, kiss her head and scratch her face as I wobble to the bedroom in a towel.

I make it to the dresser and dig out a black tee shirt, jeans and socks. As a belt, I put on a holster and slip two pistols into their homes. Switten purrs and rolls on her back on the bed, pawing at the pillows as she mewls at me again.

“C’mon, sweetheart. Let’s go get some breakfast.” I turn to the hallway and hiss quietly under my breath as she follows behind me to the kitchen.

My feet stop instinctively as I notice the mess on the floor and counters. My hand pulls at my pistol and I c**k it as I glance around, entering cautiously. My nose crinkles again, glancing left and seeing a sleeping person on my tile floor.

Stepping over it, I notice it’s a female. She’s unconscious, blonde hair sprawled over her face. I nudge her with my foot; gun still aimed closely at her. Her chest rises slowly. She’s asleep. Her clothes are torn and shredded in some places, particularly around the abdomen and neck area. She has a charm bracelet with three charms connected.

There are no shoes on her feet, no socks. Her feet are bare and toes are scraped. I notice there’s some dust on them that resemble the brick on the outside of my apartment.

Switten paws at her face and I scold her.

“No. Stop, Switten. Bad kitty.”

But the female responds and her eyes flutter open. She looks around, moves her head slowly, and I notice the deep cut across her face and claw marks down her neck.

“A-are they gone?” She whispers.

I eye her and raise a brow. “Who?”

“T-those creatures.” She whimpers quietly to herself and closes her eyes. “They’re t-terrifying.”

I slip the pistol back in its home and kneel down to her. “Did they do this to you?”

She nods, closing her eyes again. I smack her face and she jumps up.

“Stay awake. Keep your eyes open.” I drag her to her feet, and then drag her to the bathroom. “Let’s get you clean and dressed.”

She lets her head loll on my shoulder and her hand balls into my shirt. I lean her against the wall, tug off her jeans, and pull off her shirt. She covers herself, but I smack her hands away and snap off her bra. She wiggles herself out of her panties for me as I guide her to the shower.

She steps in, sets the water to warm. I turn it up even more and examine her cuts. She wines as I touch them but I growl at her and hush her. I swab them and wash them gently. Next, I wet, wash, and rinse her hair. I shave her, and then scrub her before shutting off the shower.

Nearly yanking her out, I wrap her in a towel and carry her to the bedroom. I plop her onto the bed and search my dresser. She tries to escape from the room but I throw her back and cuff her arm to the bed.

“Stay.”

Returning to the dresser, I pick out another black tee (I own all my clothes in black) and black shorts. I toss them at her with a new pair of panties and bra.

I uncuff her, and dress her. Next, I kick the medic-kit over to us so I can fix and bandage up her cuts. Rubbing Neosporin on them gently, she bits her lip, and stares at my jaw. I watch her gaze travel to my leg and let her stare, gauzing her neck. Then I gauze her face, rubbing it into the cut.

She wines, tries to pull away, but my grip is strong. She stays right where I want her. Switten hops into my lap, purrs. I pet her, smiling softly and kiss the top of her head.

My gaze then falls upon the female, watching her flinch under it.

“How did you get in my house?” I growl.

She shows me her fingers and they’re all scratched up. “I climbed.”

“Bullshit. I’m on the eighth floor.”

She cringes and hides behind her hands. “I’m not lying…”

I shove her and pin her to the wall. “Tell me the truth!”

“I’m not lying!” She breaks into tears. “P-promise. There are things I can do that normal people can’t…”

I drop her and sigh, plopping onto the bed. She wines, staying quiet while cuddling with one of my pillows. I let her, unbothered by her innocence.

Switten paws at her gently, nails in and rubs up against her. She pets her and scratches her ear. Switten breaks into loud purrs, rubbing herself even more into the blonde.

I smile small. “Traitor.”

The blonde giggles quietly. “What’s her name?”

“Switten.” I murmur.

The room falls silent to Switten’s purrs again. I close my eyes and fall asleep to it.

------

The click of my metal window locks have me opening my eyes and reaching for my pistols. But my hands fall short to nothing but silk. I see that I’ve been changed to my pjs, something I rarely wear lately.

Rubbing my eyes I see the blonde hovering over me. She has Switten in her arms, purring like crazy and smelling of pine and fish.

“Night’s here.” She speaks up.

I groggily pick myself up and shove her away. The push knocks her into the wall and she sighs to herself, falling to the floor. I leave to the kitchen, finding myself to it clean, organized and a meal cooked and ready on the counter.

She walks quietly in and leans against the wall.

“I made us dinner…” She murmurs and sets Switten down beside a full bowl of cat food.

I stay quiet, glancing at the counter and my tummy growls in response. The blonde smiles softly and bites her lip, playing with her hands.

“I hope it tastes alright.”

I grab two plates from the cabinets and then some silverware. I let them rest, gathering myself some chicken, beets, and potatoes. Then, I get her some and set both plates next to the barstools. I sit down in front of one of them, and pick up my fork.

My eyes trail to the blonde before I dig in.

“Gunna join me, Blondie?”

“Rosha.”

I raise a brow. “Excuse me?”

“My name is Rosha.”

I eye her and take a bite. “Whatever. Are you gunna join me or not?”

“Oh. Yeah.” She scoots into the seat beside me and digs in quietly.

I mumble to myself and shake my head. “What kind of name is Rosha?”

She blushes and continues to eat. “What’s your name?”

I ignore her question and finish off my dinner, then drop my dish into the sink, leaving to the balcony. I snatch up my katana and put it onto my back as I step outside.

The skies are clear, stars twinkling in unison, others a little offbeat. People are settling down for the night. Some are parking their cars. Others are shutting down their stores.

I let out a soothing sigh and relax into the cold night.

Rosha is behind me in the living room. I can hear her breathing, but ignore her presence. My eyes watch the manholes and trail over the sidewalks past people who leave up their steps into their own homes.

If anyone is smart they should know that tonight they shouldn’t go for that last one mile run for the day.

I smile to myself as I see the first Voice crawl out of the manhole. My katana calls to me and I slip it out of its case as I leap down onto the balcony below and again till I reach the streets.

Its head snaps towards me, lifeless eyes staring. A smile curls onto its stitched lips. There’s a cleaver in one hand and claws on the other. It’s prepared for a lie, one slipping out of someone’s lips somewhere in the city.

“Yeah. I see you there.” I smirk, twirling my katana.

It hisses a laugh, facing toward me.

I charge at it, but this one doesn’t run like the others. It charges at me and swings at the air, narrowly missing my arm. I take a swing and chop off its arm. It hisses in pain at the lost appendage, but continues to fight. It takes another swing at me with revenge from the last attack, and blindly misses. I stab through its chest and slice it in two, letting it collapse to the ground and melt into dust.

Going to drop a flare into the manhole, I’m knocked back by another as it jumps on me. Its eyes stare down at me, lips dripping sewer water and drool onto my face.

Its fowl breath nearly kills me as I struggle against its strength. Its eyes so hollow, held rage, anger, a lust for wanting to kill me. I smile up at it and turn the blade of my katana toward it. But it foresees the attack and knocks it away. My katana cries as it smacks the sidewalk five feet away.

I stare at it in defeat and then back at the Voice. It purrs, and then hisses a laugh through its lips as it raises its cleaver to strike. I see my opportunity and kick it from its hands, then kick it back into the manhole.

It grabs the edge, saving itself from the fall, and I pick myself up, and run to my katana. I slip her back into her case and back up against the brick wall of my apartment.

Glancing up, I see Rosha watching the fight, stroking Switten in her arms. I roll my eyes and look down at my attire, then look back up at Rosha. I cup my hands around my mouth.

“Throw me my battle gear!”

She c***s her head. “What?!”

“My battle gear on the bed! Thr-”

The Voice is upon me again, snapping at my face. But I dodge it and feel my katana dig into my back through her case. I bend my arm back and pull her loose, then cut off the Voice’s head. It collapses beside me in a lump of flesh.

Next, I climb up each balcony to my own and into the living room. I shove Rosha aside, and collapse onto the couch.

“N-next time. Don’t change me out of my gear.” I hiss.

She nods quietly and Switten leaps from her arms to me and lies on my chest, purring.

I rub at my face, strip off my pjs and head to my bedroom. In there, I change to a tee shirt and jeans with the holster back on. I bring my pistols with me to the living room and set them aside my katana. I set a comb to my hair and then look at Rosha.

“You should get to bed. It’s going to be a long night.”

She shakes her head.

“I have a second bedroom for you. For the time being until I can figure out what to do with you, you will stay there.” I grab her and drag her to the second bedroom. It’s a smaller copy of my own bedroom.

“Here,” I shove her onto the bed. “Stay.”

She takes my wrist. “What’s your name?”

“It doesn’t matter.” I yank my arm away.

“But how am I supposed to address you?”

I grind my teeth together and squeeze my fists. Then sigh and relax it out. I haven’t had much human contact before, closing myself off from the rest of them to save their lives. But Rosha seemed different from the beginning. Like no matter what abuse she had received, she’d still be here and her curiosity was what kept me thinking that’s why she stayed.

“My name is Rikkira.” I turn to her.

“Rikkira…” She murmurs. “Could I just call you Rikki?”

I shrug and turn out the lights. “Sleep.”

“But, Rikki.”

I turn toward her and grab the door handle. “Now. Or I’ll put you out on the streets with them.”

She shrinks into her bed and nods, wrapping herself up with her sheets. “Y-yes ma’am.”

I slam the door and leave to the couch. Switten is stretched out on it, asleep, purring. I let her take the couch, grabbing my katana and pistols. The streets are quiet again, Voices probably surrendering for the night.

I curl up in bed, turn on my TV and watch a few old reruns of TV shows before I let my eyes close and settle into sleep for the night.