Gunshots echoed in the streets that night. Everything was still for moment before a dark, cloaked figure ran past an alleyway.
The rain belted down with ferociousness as this chase continued, one set of quick feet while other pair leisurely walked.
In order to understand this situation, we need to go back in time to where it all began. Back when things were relatively simple than well... a chase through alleyways in the rain, I suppose.
Two years ago
Nevaeh was afraid. Scratch that, she was terrified. Why? Well that's because her life was literally on the line at this very moment. She knew that her death was imminent but she didn't think it would be this soon.
To think that she would have to pick a partner for a project right in the beginning of her first year in college. She'd rather die than socialize with people her own age. And that's putting it mildly.
At first glance, people would think that she is quite the outgoing person, socially apt and whatnot. But the simple truth is, she is the most socially awkward person you would ever meet.
If you think that's an exaggeration, let me bring up one instance for you. It was a few years ago, maybe two or three.
The cafeteria was louder than she expected.
Not unbearably loud. Just… full of noises that seemed to overlap in ways her brain didn't appreciate. Chairs scraping. People laughing. Someone loudly opening a packet of chips.
She paused in the doorway for a moment too long.
'Okay,' she told herself. 'Just walk in. People walk into cafeterias every day. This is a normal human activity.'
She stepped forward.
Immediately someone moved to the side to avoid her and she realized she had stopped directly in the middle of the entrance.
"Sorry- sorry," she muttered, shuffling two steps to the left. Then another step. Then another when she realized she was still partly blocking the path.
'Great start.'
Balancing her tray carefully, she scanned the room for a place to sit. Every table looked… occupied. Not full, technically. But occupied enough that sitting down would require that terrible moment where everyone looks up.
She spotted a half-empty table.
Two people. That was manageable.
'Just sit down,' she coached herself. 'People sit with other people. That's how cafeterias work.'
She approached.
"Um... hi," she said.
Both students looked up and her brain immediately lost all previously prepared sentences.
"…This table has chairs," she said.
A pause.
The girl across from her blinked. "Yeah?"
"Right. I mean—obviously. Because it's a table."
'Abort. Abort the conversation.'
She lowered herself into the seat before they could tell her not to.
For a moment she focused very intensely on unwrapping her sandwich as if it were a complex engineering task.
Silence stretched across the table.
Then the guy next to her said casually, "So… how's your day going?"
Her brain, traitorous creature that it was, immediately supplied the wrong answer.
"Statistically average," she replied.
Another pause.
"Uh… good?" he tried.
"Yes," she said quickly. "That one."
She took a bite of her sandwich. Too big. Now she couldn't speak even if she wanted to.
Which was fortunate, because she didn't know what she would have said anyway.
Across the table, the girl suppressed a smile.
And to her mild horror, that made her feel a tiny bit less like she had just committed a social crime.
Still, she kept her eyes very focused on her sandwich. Sandwiches, after all, did not require eye contact.
What she didn't know was that this interaction would lead to her later life getting a lot more eventful.