PUNISHER - jason grace

chapter one

CHAPTER I - TRUST FALL

CARISSIMA NIYAT

Carissima had gotten spectacularly good at running away over her lifetime.

It sounds almost cowardly when it's phrased like that- but it's not. Not if the reason she was running is because she has nothing and nobody to stay for, and the reason she's hiding is because she knows she'll be dragged back to some version of Hell if she doesn't escape. Carissima had been tucked away, on her own, for eight months now, happily set in her own routine.

She is good at hiding. She can remember always being the last found in childhood games of hide-and-seek.

Carissima blinks blearily as the morning rays find their way onto her face, rousing her from an inky, dreamless sleep. She is met with the off-white popcorn ceilings and peeling striped wallpaper she's grown accustomed to over the past months. Winter's coldness had shed into summer's warm sunlight, which now shone through the window into her motel room. The place, which was meant to be a temporary solution to a pesky sleeping situation problem, was now littered with old spell scraps, food wrappers, and dirty clothes. Remnants of her time here- proof that the room was very well lived-in, and had been for the past eight months.

The girl rolls out of bed, attempting to shake the sleep from her heavy bones as she readies herself for the day in the small attached bathroom. She mills about in her usual morning customs- she spares a glance at the digital clock on her bedside as she changes into shorts and a tank top, with an extra layer thrown over top. Her black hair is still woven into days-old french braids, which were barely mussed. The clock reads eight-thirty in the morning, and her hands grapple for her bag which has been thrown carelessly behind the small, rock-hard sofa, barely able to fit between the wall and the furniture due to her navy blue hoodie. After an embarrassingly long time, she manages to grab the straps of her backpack, slinging it on over her shoulders and making her way to the doorway.

Her fingers run along the line where the wall meets the floor, collecting dust from the carpet, and small flecks of pink sand. Carissima looks back to the candle on the windowsill across the room that has almost burnt down fully, and sighs. She had known a replacement would have to come soon- she just wished it wouldn't have to be on a day she was so tired. Dusting off her hands, she stands, and fishes through her shorts pocket for the slim key card to the motel room. She moves so easily, and it's almost second nature the way that she operates- like a well-oiled machine. She'd done all of this a hundred times before. The "do not disturb" sign is placed on her door handle, and she closes the door behind her. The girl checks the lock once, twice, and with a third she's satisfied, and her tennis shoes are thudding quietly on the carpeted hallway.

—

Jersey City was similar enough to New York, especially in summer. Maybe it was the proximity, or the fact that it was just another big city, but it reminded her of home. The mass of people allowed her to slip around unnoticed, and blend in with everyone else- ideal for avoiding monsters, and anyone else that might be looking. They'd have to search through crowds for hours to find her, sifting through every citizen here. The same crowds that she wove through now, walking alongside strangers in a path she'd tread hundreds of times before. In the back of her subconscious, she was watching for threats- someone following her, or a monster in disguise. All in all, though, Jersey was ironically calm. Over all her time in the same place, she'd only encountered a confused gryphon.

This was probably because the only people who would want her dead could never outsmart her, or her magic- she had her mother to thank for that. With the help of carefully-crafted rituals, hastily cast spells, and a slight manipulation of the mist, she went unnoticed by everyone. Even the woman who ran the motel barely realized she was there! Although she was technically on the run, and should be more concerned with survival, Carissima still had it in herself to be impressed at her skills. Nine months, and not a soul had found her. The better part of a year. Sure, it left her exhausted, but how was that for a daughter of Hecate? A self-satisfied smirk tugged at her lips as she stepped over a puddle of slush and back onto the sidewalk, in the midst of a large group of people crossing the street as well.