Prologue

It's three a.m. when the whisper gets louder, it's eating all the senses in her head. Four soft red walls intensely stared her back, Murals of a fantasy world lay lifelessly on the wall. The door which she was always wary of, leading to her wardrobe room much bigger than a normal house living room, became a place for numerous clothes, different types of them. Yet, all the fancy feed her fear like throwing a dead tree to the angry fire. The fluorescent sticker on the ceiling wasn't supposed to live and laugh but every night she saw them dancing and mocking her, crying at the corner seeming to be angry about something. The folding door to the bathroom seems to be the scariest of all, there's always something behind it. They scream, begging, and wailing for something she doesn't understand.

She was nine after all.

She was nine, and on the night of her birthday, she was supposed to get excited about the arrangements her parents has done, but nothing could make her heart flutter from the fear. The door to her wardrobe creaks and the darkness in there seems to be more dangerous. The constant thud in the bathroom, the whispers under the table, the scratching against the floor near the bed, the shaking of the bed, the harsh pulling of the blanket, she was sick of all, yet she can't overcome the fear.

The next night, she will be officially nine years old, the party was always boring, all her parents' corporate friends, and political associations, and most of them wasn't put an effort to give on a friendly face at all. They seem scary behind those suits and ties, dresses and high heels clacking on the floor just the same rhymes with the clicking on the wall she heard every night. No kids her age, it's all adults and they talk to each other with lack of attention to whose birthday, but they at least have some sense to bring her a present each of them, big one, expensive. After the party, she would storm to her room, ripping all the wrappers, except the day after that birthday, each of them tearing apart, broken, and missing.

But, that night she was having a nightmare, endless wood and many people chasing for her, the words weren't easy for a kid her age to understand. They groans, and they scream as if they were suffering and want her to feel them too. The clawing behind her forced her to slow down. They all stink like she was in a sea of dead people, they were wounded badly, some even lost their heads, lost their arms, and some were just chest and belly parts jumping around, hands dragging the limp closer to her. The clawing getting harder and harder, and her breath was constrained in her throat, it took a few seconds before she was drowned in a sea of bleeding bodies, stinky smells, incomplete body parts, and hanging veins that still dripping blood.

She was scared, sure. And surely nauseous but was scared enough to go any closer to the toilet. The glistening sweat under her lamp's light illuminated the fairy's shadow with her wing and wand in her hand. Despite all the sparkling and light, her heartbeat beat like a thunderous drum. The sounds of screaming, the shadows that speeding in her room more than she can count, the wailing, the begging, the faint unknown thud, and the wet sound rolling over the floor. She pulled her blanket closer, and slowly pulled it over her head. Hissing on the sting on her calves.

A harsh from a big, heavy hand suddenly make a contact on her thigh beneath the blanket, dragging the sharp claw to her flesh through the thick layer, pulling the blanket down in a super quick motion, she jolted at the pain, in reflexes, she tried to see what was there, only to see her flying blanket down there and nothing more. She glanced at her thigh, bleeding seeping under her pajamas, Her heart pounded, she even could feel the pounding in her head like a banging gunshot. The creepy whisper called her name behind the door to her wardrobe which was oddly slightly open, the more she focus on the darkness, the redder those two dots got with a dark slice in the middle of each red dot.

For a second, her heart stop thumping, probably already tired from all the strong beating. She finally found the last bravery when the white pale clicking finger held the door, with the nail as long as her longest finger she had with dirt applied on them shone by her side table lamp. She scurried down, and storm off from the room. The heat from her back, as if she could feel them running after her. As of their nail will reach her soon. She couldn't look behind, all she wanted was her parents on her side. She can't scream, as if her voice is stuck in her throat.

Her parents were busy people, but she always sneaks out of her room to fulfill her midnight craving, just to see their parents heading to the forbidden door, all she knows it led to a forbidden place behind that wooden door, a place her parents forbid her to trespass. And somehow she forgot all the house rules as she ran for her life. The only barrier was that knob, she twist it once and succeeded in opening it, her little feet knock the polished wooden stairs even though it was almost dark down there if it wasn't for the light from the living room.

The steps got heavier, matching her breakdown. The noises felt like comfort as she reaches the ground, the quarrel became a comfort she didn't know she need at the moment. Though, her head already makes a scene that has been repeated for the past few years. The scolding and punishment faded behind her head. No one would believe what was happening, but at least she has calmed down a little bit.

It's only a few meters from her, a dim light and others flickering lightbulbs make her hair stand up again. There's only a room far across the space, a thud after thud was heard, groans by a man, but she didn't care. All she wanted was her parents. She took brave steps, remembering her parents' routine after midnight. She walk closer to the door, her smile widened more as she get closer.

Until her palm touched the door panel, which was already wide open. Her lips open, eager to call for her mother, wanting her warm embrace, saving her from the cold stare of her father. However, her voice stuck in her throat, as a rolling ball reached the door, a few inches from her feet. The nauseating feeling crept up in her throat, a panic that rose with the bitter taste on her tongue. Her breathing was uncontrollable, it went as ragged as it can.

The rolling back eyes were wide open, the white empty stare burning through her soul. The continuous flowing dark liquid from crooked nose and his bruised lips with a long line as if he was smiling wider that his lips ripped to his ears that have only hole on both sides, the ears were not there… Only blood.

She can't stand it, all she wanted was to scream at the top of her lungs, but the nauseous felt heavier in her throat. She wasn't brave anymore, she felt this was scarier than being in her bed with countless ghosts haunting her. As she was about to scream, a hand cups her mouth, a warm and big hand, and a familiar cologne hits her smell buds. The person swiftly turns her from the still round thing, finding his chest in a neat black jacket. As much as she was scared, she was a little bit relieved by his presence, he rubbed her back, as comforting as she want him to be.

She quickly embrace him, channeling all her fear, her knees were too weak to stand, a feeling that grabbed her heart, pulling her wits and courage in one smooth way but too slowly, giving her the mercilessly slow dying. It was dark, flickering, and dim red light never help, it only makes it darker, and sinister as if the dark was pulling her no matter where she goes.

Something inside was weighing so bad, she can't breathe, her head felt dizzy as the light became so blurry, her head felt so light, but the instinct kick in. She want to survive whatever this was. She tried to take a deep breath but only came out like a loud gasp, like a fish on the land. Too loud that she was heard by people inside the room. He shifted his eyes to the rolling thing with a liquid coating the floor, the liquid spread u til it touch his leather boots. He gulped, still wasn't used to the situation his father forcefully put him in.

"Who's there?."

Called a woman's sharp and cruel voice. Work splendidly like a poison until it steal the breath, and took the life out of people's bodies as if she effortlessly was picking a flower out of its stems. His instinct knew the woman, especially her husband wouldn't be so pleased with the presence of a nine years old girl who already passed out from the shock on his chest, and weak limbs in his arms. He gulped again, contemplating the words.

"It's Ryan. I have a bad stomach, ma'am. May I step back to the upper floor, ma'am?."

He suppresses the feeling inside, the rumbling and uncomfortable twist inside his chest. For once, he hoped for the woman wouldn't walk out of the room or both he and the girl would be in a big disaster. A scoff was heard right after he spoke, only to make him clench his jaw in anger. All those people, ridiculed him, making his life ruined as it can be. Pulling him into a pit of hell without his permission, grabbing his face, rubbing all the sins and dirt on his face, and telling him to man up and swallow it as if he was nothing more than a place to throw all the sins and believe he would gulp and shut his mouth about it. However, what else he can do? He was born into the wrong family, with the wrong background, and wrong surroundings that make him obey even if he refused.

"A little bit of blood and rolling head already make you feel sick. What more benefit can you be with that weak stomach of yours? You are the one who will replace your father's place. Your training will start tomorrow no matter what you hope for, no one will save you. Once you are in, there's no way out. We will let you off for now. Wake up early tomorrow morning."

The hoarse cold voice commands. The shivers ran cold on his back. He strengthen his mentality as he pulled the girl to his shoulder. His soft pitiful hazel eyes switched to dead stares as he tried to punch a hole through the wall, in the hope to kill both heartless people inside the room. His eyes resemble the grave I'm stormy night. Dead, empty, and dangerous lurking in every corner. His voice came out so cold, matching the voice earlier.

"Yes ma'am. Thank you, Sir, ma'am."