****

It would be three days until life reared its ugly head once more. I sat up and watched as the world began to phase in and out, finally coming into focus. I would eat, sleep, and be tormented, beaten, and raped for over 113 more days. This was pure horror. Not the scary boogie man thing you hear on cartons, but real life people, committing wrong and mortify actions.
****
As I escaped the dark corner of my head that contained such horror, I was not surprised at what I felt. Sorrow. Sorrow for the man that had to capture people like me in order for to feel accomplished.

The dim glow of a fluorescent light outside my small ‘cave’ suddenly grew dimmer, and I threw my head to face the wall. The door made a hideous grinding sound, as it always had, and the husky and intimidating figure of my capture appeared. A black silhouette, he stood about 5’11, and must have weighed more than any NFL star. His solemn and grave voice rang out like a church bell at a Funeral.
“Get up,” and I stood up and still as sharply as I could. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt myself, not today.
“Turn around and face me.” I turned.
“You don’t need any instruction from here.”
I didn’t, and I never did, not since the third day. Upon the first, I was given instruction to strip naked and stand for five minutes, then walk around the room, and move my hips in fashion, a routine that could’ve have reduced any sane human to tears, with him holding a rope, that if I wasn’t sexy enough, I would be whipped repeatedly with. On the second day, I refused, and was beaten and rapped. Today I dropped clothes on the floor and walked from left to right around each corner of the room, two times.
As I came back to my clothes, I stopped. What appeared to be streak of light flashed behind him and he whipped out a Mechanical arm that the elderly used. It struck me across the face and then groped to my left leg. It closed and I felt a cold and piercing feeling above my knee, and cringed. He yanked. I fell to the floor and land on my butt and shoulders, and bit my lip. It was the third Tuesday of the month. I sat up and looked him in the face, as he too, stripped. As the naked figure walked forward, his feature became more apparent. Caucasian, a stocky build, and almost no hair, yet I could never be sure, as he always wore a ski mask. He bent down, and fell, his huge frame crushing my chest. I shivered, yet obeyed. My eyes began to water and I shut them, hard and refused to open them. He never cared, but I was weary to see what his face might look like if he ever removed the mask. I was, thank the Lord, infertile, and had never been pregnant in these 113 days. In five minutes the torment ended, and I was left alone, once more. I replaced my clothes, and nudged myself into a small corner that seemed to be roomier than the rest. I balled my eyes out, and prayed. That also kept me sane, having faith that somebody else out there might determine the remained of my life. I felt a slight prickle on my right leg. I looked down and was not suprised to see a small white rat was lying on my leg. He was the only creature or other living organism I had ever met in this ‘cave.’ I had named him Faith, and I clung to him as a savor and sign of possible freedom, as I believed he could pass in and out of the house as he felt. But he always returned.
Warm tears came bursting from the eyes that teachers’ and friends had once called radiant and mesmerizing lime green. I had found faith nibbling on a crumb of bread I had dropped after my captor gave me food the 10th day. He nibbled and then choked and I managed to pat him enough to pop the lodged piece out of his throat. I had fed him the next day after he showed up once more. He then came back and visited me, not looking for food. The light once more grew dim behind the door, and I set Faith down, and patted him and he scurried off to a small hole no bigger than a grape, which a previous rat had chewed out. My captor opened the door once more, the white light form behind busting in once more.
“You may have company in a few days, so except me to be gone, but don’t pull anything stupid.”
I had heard the whole, ‘’Don’t be stupid thing,” as I had once to tried to escape, and a shotgun tied to the trapdoor to the basement went off, and I had seen it only moments, just a fragment long enough to dodge the bullet, and then my captor came running.
But the ‘company’ piece I had never heard of before, and it scared me. ‘Could it be a partner- another sick creep, or some other poor teenager?’ The door shut once more, as I nodded to the once again fading figure of one of the vilest human beings on the planet. I turned to the corner in which Faith ran for, and saw him emerge. As he made his way over to me, I lied on my side and waited for him to snuggle against my leg. I closed my eyes, sure not to let my mind slip, but float into sleep, as that was all there to do.
I awoke some time later and I sat up. Faith was a few inches away, and a small plate of food was being deposited outside the door, and the lock to the dog flap of the door came unlocked. I dragged myself to the door, careful to remain quiet, to seem asleep. As I heard the trapdoor above the stairs shut, I lunged for the usual bread and banana, plus a glass of water. I shoved the banana into my mouth, finishing it in two bites, and ripping a corner of the bread and placing it next to Faith. I drank about two thirds of the water, and also left the rest of that for Faith. As slunk back to my corner, I reached for a piece of stone from yesterday. If found a sufficient stub, and carved another straight line to mark another day. 114, so about late July, 2011, I thought. I could sort of keep track of the days, as the meals I received were based on the point of the day, bread and a banana for breakfast, a tiny salad for lunch, and mashed potatoes or corn for dinner, all with a cup of water. I was malnourished, but I knew I wouldn’t pass, as I had gotten accustomed to the lack of food. As my back leaned against the wall, I looked around at my surroundings, as I did every morning, trying to look for some sign of escape. The entire basement was the size of an Elementary School classroom, and it felt like one; waiting, hoping and praying that some higher power (a school bell), would save me. But no such thing came. Only the grotesque man that I knew could only be Satin ever came.
The basement was made of solid concrete, and it appeared to have been made by hand, as there quite a few jagged edges jutting out from the wall. I had use these to carve lines into the wall, in section of ten, and hopefully have lasting memory for those, Lord help them, that follow. I glanced towards the door, I glared at it. It seemed to have some effect, as a wooden slat built next to and below the door opened to reveal a rubber sealed metal pipe, no bigger than a basketball. This was my restroom. I couldn’t brush my teeth, floss or anything, only use the bathroom. I watched as in five minutes the pipe shut, and the figure returned to society.
I heard the small rasping of a truck engine outside of my ‘cave’ and listened as my captor drifted away. A scraping noise followed, and I turned to see Faith rise to his feet. He was a fully grown rat, but he was a baby when I first ended up in this hellish place. He twirled almost to face his food which I watched him eat in minute or so.
‘How great it must be,’ I thought, ‘not to have a care in the world, to eat without fear, or live quietly without the torment of rape.’ I began to lull myself with every word, my thoughts drift like a fleck of dust through a fall breeze. I closed my eyes and tried to smile, but as always, my lips were glued in solitude.

It would be two hours until I woke up, and I was startled ot find a racketing sound coming from the direction of the door. I openned my eyes slower than I would as i was afriad of what he might be here for. But the sound was not coming from outside. It was coming from inside. As I listened I heard the squeak of basketball shoes, and the hiss of grinding teeth in frustration. A boy, about my age, seventeenish, trying to jar the door open. He collapsed in frustration. The first thought that entered my mind was oh carp, this is a another kid. Second, where was the man who called me Mia?

The boy saw the glint of my eyes, and my long brown hair shown like a mirror. He walked over and sat next to me. I realized who he was immeaditaly. It was a neighbor of mine, who attended my school. Drew, was it ?

He spoke the first words.

" I remember you, Miageen, right. And are we really trapped here?" He spoke at a slower pace than it appeared.

The boy must be shock, as he seemed to be fairly calm. I answered a solemn, but not cold, "Yes and yes."
As he spoke rapidly, I heard snippets, like that he had mo parents, no orphanage, or even a friend and that he was kidnapped for supposedly being gay. I felt pity and sorrow clog my throught once more, and I had to choke beack tears: anybody like Drew or myself shouldn't have to go through this. We sat and talked, i mostly listened, but got through to the point and fears he had. As he walked to the door I followed and a thought accured to me,
"Could this be the company that the man had been speaking of?"
But I brushed it off, and I watched as he looked at the door frame, when it flew open, only to hit me, knock me out, and this time I fell on Drew and watched as his short brown hair, pale eyes a thin complexon fade into an abyss.

I fell, or slept until I felt cold water on my back, only to sit up and see the canopy of a boreal forest. I put my hand down to steady myself, only to soak it from the small stream in which I sat. I looked around to see a glowing metalic box with gold letter, titled 'Fee.' To my right, I saw a huge gate that said, 'Easy Street.'The phrases sounded famililar, but I couldn't think as I realized I was sitting on top of Drew. He knocked my off of him, and I watched him look around as I did.

"I think we're in the MiddleBar."

A light bulb burst in my head. The MiddleBar was a stoey my father wrote before he died in a car crash. He read it to me untill i was ten, and I still go back through and cry. I watched the river start to go grey and brown, to filter off into a chasm I was unsure was small, or even had a bottom.

I spoke up over Drew mumbling once again, and siad, "You can return to life, go to Heaven or Hell, or even remain here." I knew no more than he did, but I didn't want him to leave. He sat down in the stream once more.

Jay Sol

Jay Sol’s life is not good. If you were to say good to him he probably would not understand the meaning. Earth had changed a lot since the 21st century, decrepit skyscrapers dotted around the crumbling city, the city that was once called London, but which now was called just, ‘the city’. However on the next day (the people had lost count) Jay and a band of family and friends were to depart to Genesis. Cataclysmic events had torn through earth’s magnetic field, a barrage of energy rippled across earth, decimating all things living outside of buildings. Radiation leak through the ozone, infecting any in close proximity to the leak. Bodies littered the dusty pavements. Jay and his family had been lucky. They had all been indoors at the time of this Armageddon. This was the last thing they needed to realise that Earth was too dangerous.

Genesis. It was the most beautiful thing in existence to Jay. If only they had landed where they were meant to. Desert Diablo was famous on Earth and Genesis for its scorching sands, and its shifting secret, the Diablo was a sacred beast. The sacred beast could easily kill; it didn’t even need to attack. “Oh carp, we aren’t going to make it, are we?” Jay’s mum fretted.
“Of course we will mum, don’ worry, I’m telling you now we will make it!” reassured Jay, refusing to believe the daunting truth.
“How long? How long do we have? Before the Diablo comes!” sobbed Jay’s girlfriend, Kaitlyn. Alexus, Jay’s best friend patted her back.
“Jay, you do what you have to, to get us to New Eden, our home.” Exclaimed Alexus.
“Ok, let’s go!” Jay bellowed to the crowd of travellers.

The sound of an ancient beast stirring from its deep slumber is not a sound desired by many. It striked terror in the hearts of the wandering group, their feet that trudged in sand shook. Deep in the cavernous space beneath Genesis’ shell the Diablo which was of brilliant size, writhed in its weakening slumber. Rubble fell from the sky, or was it the ground? The creature knew not. All it knew was victims awaited him. Time to shine!

“Oh carp, something’s happening…” whispered Alexus under his breath, as day turned swiftly to night. There was no fade, just a blanket of midnight, draped over the landscape. Then, all hell broke lose. The Diablo broke free of its cage, and lashed towards the group. Its huge crusted head was caked in dried crimson, blood of past lives. The group threw themselves to the side, smashing on the floor. Many were safe, but still casualties happened. The screams tore through the air, like the Diablo’s fangs waited to tear through them.

“Guys! Run, I’ll draw it off you!” Alexus shouted. A shiver ran down Jay’s spine. It was over. He knew Alexus was lost.

---

{Milla Tenworth}

I stumble around far outside Neo Elizabeth, trying to find my way to New Eden. My only companion? A talking giant crocodile. I don’t wanna rag on him though. He makes good company. Or I’m just going insane. I can’t seem to decide.

Milla? The croc looks at me tiredly. Whoops. We’ve been moving for about seven hours straight. Even my back kinda hurts.

“Tch. Sorry. I know you’re tired. I know, I’m sorry. We can stop here, if you wanna.” I look at my abnormally large, insanely bright croc, and he flips a toothy grin.

“Hi.” The croc’s obviously trying to make me feel better about…dammit.

“Hi yerself. Anyways, I’m kind tired too. Plus… Never mind.” Ms. Whitaker…Why’d you have to go an’ get yerself killed? And leave me here to get chased down by Liz? How could you leave me here? Ms. Whitaker? But she never answers. And she never will, ‘cause she’s dead. And it’s all my fault, my fault, my fault; it’s all my fault.

Hear thought? Mouth not moving, Milla? Thought hearing, Milla? Oh. The croc doesn’t know. I wonder…if he figured out that I had Exodus, would he leave in fear?

“No. No, Milla. Not leaving. I sleep. Sleep.” He nudges my shovel on my back. I forgot it was there, for a second. “Sleep.” The croc, which I still haven’t named, circles around itself, and flops onto a bush, effectively crushing it.

“Bush murderer. Anyway, yeah…we need some rest don’t we? Anyway, we’ll hit the desert in a few hours. As soon as we wake up." Yeah…I’ll…just…take…a…nap.
…
…
…
I jump awake with a start, mortified by what I see. A cloud of dust, headed right towards us. And I can hear thoughts too. Dammit! I slept too long!

TENWORTH! You can’t run forever! Your thoughts reveal you, girl! Dammit. Busted. Grumpily taking note of his surroundings, the crocodile, which I have decided to call ‘Croc’ for now, tenses when he sees Liz and her son.

“Milla.” It’s not a question. No…something’s up here. “Milla.” Guns. Bad, bad guns. Humans with guns…kill Croc. Kill Croc’s family too. Kill Milla if they see. Guns bad. Very bad. Milla? “Guns, Milla. Guns, bang-bang. Kill dead.” I try to lead Croc away, so we can at least have a chance, but he won’t budge. And off in the distance, I can hear Liz’s actual VOICE.

“Milla, I KNOW where you are. You can’t escape me.” Crack! The bark near my head explodes. “Dammit. Don’t let her run, you idiots! Get her!” Some of the dust splits off, and I notice that they’re riding…bulls? What the hell?

“A bull is the perfect war steed, did you know? Ornery, angry, and determined, bulls are. Well, horses would be better, but they all died in the war. But that’s saying too much.” I try to read her, but…my head just hurts. I grasp my temples, trying to make the pain go away. Meanwhile, Croc’s stepping forward slowly. Then faster. His stumpy legs make the ground tremble, and I can’t do nothin’ ‘bout it.

“Croc?” I mutter weakly. And my brilliant, brilliant crocodile sends his thoughts right on back.

Run. Have this one. No more owed. Desert, Milla! Desert! I tremble myself, unable to watch Croc go off to fight. To die. To leave me all alone.

“Croc!” I start to follow, but my legs stop working. And that’s when I hear my companion for a day roar. And then a bull squeals. I can hear its thoughts, too. LEG! GONE, LEG! Whoa. Croc knows where I’m going, too. Maybe…just MAYBE he stands a chance. I take off, running for my life. But…what about…I can’t…Deep in thought, I don’t notice the rumble of the ground as Croc comes charging back, carrying a rifle in his mouth. Well, and the arm it used to belong to. Geezums, that’s bad.

“Croc! C’mon, we’ve got to go!” Click! The unmistakable sound…of a loaded rifle. Liz hops off of her bull, and strides over to Croc, placing the gun to his head.

“Damn you, Liz. What do you WANT from me!?” I shriek, gripping my shovel. But what’s a SHOVEL gonna do to a rifle?

“Yes, Milla. What indeed? About what I want? Not much, just you.” I get an image of her shooting me through the forehead. But Liz just shakes her head. “No, no, silly girl. I don’t want to kill you anymore. No, I will not allow you to take the easy way out. I have something more…apt, if you will, in mind.”

“Let Croc go.” I say, fuming that I allowed this to happen. Dammit, I’m such a MORON. Forgive me, Ms. Whitaker. Please.

“Hm…Sure, but only if you come with me.” She grins, knowing that she has me beat. Croc grimaces, showing all of his teeth. Milla. Run. Now.

“…” What do I do? I don’t want to go with her, not at all. But I also don’t want Croc to die. Liz lifts the gun to her shoulders, finger on the trigger. I freeze, but Croc acts for me. Again. He swings his hefty old tail, catching Liz in the stomach.

“GO!” Croc roars, flailing his tail like a mace. “Go, Milla!” And I start to oblige. Until I hear a sharp crack, even though Liz doesn’t have her gun. And a familiar voice rings out from behind me, while Croc notices a gaping hole in his chest.

“Milla, you should have joined us. I didn’t want to shoot your crocodile.” Croc takes one last look at his murderer, before he shudders. He goes thrashing noisily, breaking Liz’s arm in the process. But…the woman with the gun… I run away. I leave Croc’s body and run. I’m sorry, Croc. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, sorry. I gotta apologize for everything. I’ve got to apologize for your death too. But…I can’t go back for my brilliant, radiant, crazy crocodile. The one that says “Hi!” instead of eating you. The one that came with me on this pipe-dream of a journey. But in the end I was betrayed. Croc…I’m sorry. I didn’t KNOW. How was I supposed to know…that Ms. Whitaker would kill you? That she was on HER side now? Please…please forgive me. One day… One day…