Prologue

A loud buzzing erupts through the house, it's source being the garage. The sound was slightly muffled by the thick walls, and covered up by the music blasting.

Inside the garage, a young woman no older than 22 years old was perched on a small mobile chair, her hands working on her 1964 Red Corvette. The car had been recently fixed, with a new engine, better structure, and a new paint job. Even so, this car had been around for a while.

The young woman pulled away the drill from her engine, finishing her job. She set the drill into her red tool box, wiping her oil-stained hands on her faded jeans. Sighing with delight, she closed the hood of the car.

She stood up and walked towards the garage door, but stopped short when she heard a disturbance behind her. She turned and noticed her small chair was pushed under the desk. She pushed the thought away from her, walking into the kitchen.

She turned on the faucet and cupped her hands, catching the cold water and splashing her face. She then grabbed a towel and went to the garage.

She passed the staircase that leads to the second floor as a young girl, a teenager, thirteen years old, came bounding down the stairs.

"Hey, Mom!"

The older woman, the mother, smiled. "Hey! How's the book?"

"Great! Chapter Three so far!" The young girl smiled, beaming with pride.

"That's amazing!" The mother pulled her in for a hug. "I'm so proud of you, Diane."

The young girl, Diane, happily smiled. "Thanks, Mom."

The mom pulled from the hug and said, "How about when I finish my work we'll go get something to eat."

Diane nodded. "Sounds good! How long do you think it'll take?"

The mother sighed and kissed Diane's forehead. "Hopefully not too long."

Diane nodded, knowing how much this car meant to her. The car was a gift from her best friend, an old friend who died of a heart attack after a car accident. He had given it to her when she turned sixteen. It was special.

The mother returned to the garage, closing the door slowly. Diane walked into the living room, sinking into the love seat and turned on the TV.

The mother found a board with a soft mat on wheels. She laid down on her back and scooted the board underneath the car to examine the exhaust, wheel bearings, and the transmission. She grabbed a wrench from her toolbox and began to work.

As she worked, a light noise, as if a door had been opened slowly and closed silently. The mother heard this and called out, "Diane?" thinking that it could be her daughter.

When she heard no response, she returned to her work, not noticing another sound, as if someone was slowly dragging their feet along the floor. The sound was overpowered by the mother's power drill working on the exhaust of the car.

As the mother began to reach for another tool, a hand grasped her ankle and dragged her from underneath the car with a fierce velocity.

The mother's scream reverberated throughout the house, disturbing Diane's attention to the TV. Diane's head spun around, looking in the direction of the scream. She jumped and stormed into the garage.

She looked around, not seeing any sign of distress until she saw something fall from above onto the floor.

Diane slowly reached down and touched a drop liquid that fell from above and pulled her finger to her face, noticing the dark red color and the smell of iron. This wasn't just some liquid. It was blood.

As she came to this horrifying realization, another drop of blood fell from above, landing in her open palm. She slowly looked, and she screamed when she saw the source of the blood. The mother had been suspended to the ceiling, her midsection ripped open, a silent scream permanently plastered onto her face.

"NO!"