Chapter One

 The street was dark. Broken streetlamps illuminated the road with feeble pools of orange light. Glass littered the floor, reflecting the glare of the moon, which was hidden behind a cloak of clouds. Kat walked down the lane, her breathing ragged. Blood was splattered up her arm, and a knife was hanging limply from her pale hand. Suddenly, the screaming started again, and Kat ran. Her hair, in it's usual plait, streamed out behind her, and wind slowed her down. Tears streamed down her face, blurring her vision. Kat spun round a corner, and came into an ally. An ally with a dead end. She ran to the chain link fence and began to climb. Metal dug into the palms of her hands, but she didn't care, she was concentrating on getting away. Then the thing appeared. It had decaying flesh drooping of its face, and dried blood was crusted all over its body. Suddenly, the thing screamed, a blood curdling scream that echoed around the city. More of the things appeared, some with bits of grimy hair draped around their face. Kat had just reached the other side of the fence when the things started to run. Glancing back, she sprinted ahead, the bag at  that was slung over her shoulder bashing against the side of her leg. Fear coursing through her veins, Kat fought for breath. The Safehouse loomed in the distance. It was so close, yet so far away. With one last gasp of air, Kat charged ahead. As soon as she had jumped over the fence that surrounded the temple, black creeped into her vision, and she was sucked into the abyss.

Kat was awoken by voices. Sitting up, she took in her surroundings. A laminate flooring reflected the fluorescent lights on the ceiling, and shiny metal objects were blinking with red and green lights. Kat was laying on a hospital bed, covered with a thin linen sheet.

"You're awake."

 Surprised at a voice behind her, Kat turned to find a young woman sitting on a wooden stool. Primly, she stood up and walked to the end of the bed. Her brown hair was pulled back into a tight bun and a pair of glasses balanced on the end of her nose, her lips were set in a in a straight line. 

"Name," she said, peering down at a clip board.

"Kat, Kat Brooks."

"Age."

"16."

"Eye colour."

"Green?" She think, They didn't really have much of a chance to wonder about those things now.

"All correct, your fine to go."

Everybody's quarters were small, but Kats was tiny. A bed was squashed in the corner of the room, and at the foot was a small chest of drawers which held her belongings. In the bottom drawer was some t-shirts, a few pairs of jeans and some underwear. The top drawer held all manner of weapons. Knives, axes, even a gun, it also held her favorite thing, a wicked looking Bowie knife. Sighing, Kat pulled her hair out of it's plait and brushed it before. She left it hanging down her back. These days, she should really think about cutting it short, but vanity got the best in her. Dark crimson locks snaked down her back. Happy with the way she looked, Kat tucked a small knife into the sheath at her hip and flounced out of the door.