Providence

Sarah

I woke to the sounds of footsteps and a man coughing. The footsteps came closer and The door of the pitch-black cellar opened and a beam of light striked my eyes, blinding me. I tried to make out the face of the man who had walked in, blinking continuously, forcing my eyes to adjust to the light. His face was strict and burnt from several places. His Eyes, scary and intimidating, full of cruelty. He looked almost 50, and was a highly wanted man. His name was Terry. Also know as The Death bringer.
He walked towards me, slightly limping, and bent down, taking out a key from his pocket. He unlocked the chain wrung around my waist tightly secured with a lock.
"Come on, We're going out." He said, standing up and motioning me, through his hands, towards the door.
I tried to stand but my legs were numb. I hadn't stood up in ages.
"C'mon scum. Walk." He ordered rudely with a slight bit of pride in his voice.
I stood up and started walking behind him. We walked through a series of gates and shutters which were surrounded my dark walls and torches, Mice prawling around everywhere. The wall was broken at one point, this was where Terry had tried to kill a man with a baseball bat but had missed. We reached the end of the dim-lit Alleyway and began to climb the wooden stairs. The third one was broken in the middle, probably chewed down by a mouse. I pushed open the trapdoor and climbed up.

Nothing much had changed in the preceding month. The living room was the same. The 4 seater couch, which was torn from several places, was placed roughly in the middle of the room, The Television, along with some spilled juice and a bar of melted chocolate, sat on a small coffee table directly in front of the sofa.
Something small and dusty brushed my leg. I looked down to find Mrs. Tabby, The house cat. She was a Black Korat with purplish eyes, now thinner than ever as if she hadn't been fed for ages. She was pathetic but was the only company in the house.
The kitchen was to the left, which had a mini fridge in it along with a stove, a microwave oven and some cabinets, which were all littered with garbage and left over pizza slices.

"God, don't you ever clean up?" I muttered.

The house was rather small, and consisted of two more rooms, one was mine and the other was Terry's. Mine had a shady blue wallpaper and posters of The Walking Dead, A bunk bed, which I had to share with, apparently, Mrs Tabby while Terry's was lined with a Black wallpaper with blood all on the walls. He used his room mostly for torture purposes. The room was decorated with flowers which really didn't fit the theme.
"C'mon, What you looking at!" He barked angrily and nudged me, forcing me to move.
We moved towards the door and I picked my guns off the table near the door and put them into their holsters. These were the only things that were clean and polished.

The house opened into a dark alleyway, which was filled with litter and puddles of blood and water. The alleyway led into a rather open, wide area filled with different stalls and shops of fruits, vegetables, milk, guns and other daily-life accessories.

This not-so-friendly neighbourhood was isolated from society, far away from sight, hidden by dark, shady trees, invisible to the naked eye even from above. This place was called Lasantina.
"Go buy the rations." He said, handing me a list and shoved some dollars into my hands.
I looked at the ration list:
Milk, Bullets, Vegetables, water, tea bags, coffee, Knives, Meat.
I started going to the respective shops to buy the things written on the list, in quite a shitty hand writing.

The Milkman was a somewhat cheerful guy and was named Tom. He was a good friend of Terrys and I was forced to call him "Uncle". I preferred "Douchebag" a lot better though. The bullets didn't cost much as there was literally a bullet making factory deep inside the woods. The vegetables were cut short as the smugglers were caught and the vegetables were returned to the city.
Amateurs really. I thought. I could do the job a lot better.
The Water, Coffee and teabags were in the same shop. Even the finest coffees were available like Verve and Revelator.
The knives were sold at the butchers shop and the meat as well. The shop was owned my Terry's old friend, Samuel, who had a scar that stretched across his face.He handed me the knife and a plastic bag filled with meat.
"Say Hi to Ol' Terry for meh!" He screamed as I turned. After all the things were taken care of, I started finding my way back to Terry.

"Hey, Hey little Gurley. Going somewhere?" Two men blocked my path, hands in their pockets. Cigars, Slightly burnt were up their lips, and cheap sunglasses on their faces.
I clutched the new knife I had bought. I really didn't want to stain it with blood already.
"New in town? I Guess?" I said confidently, in an intimidating expression. The one Terry had taught me.
"What's it to you? Little muffin."
I clutched the knife tighter in my hand.
"BACK OFF." I ordered.
"What if we don't. Daddy ain't here to help you eh." He said with a smile, still anxiously looking, as if he was cooking for Terry.
That was it. I dropped the plastic bags and clutched the knife tightly. Moving quickly, I stabbed the one in front of me in the stomach and the other one in the neck. They both dropped instantly, blood pouring down on the ground. I raised the knife up to my eye and stared at the blood dripping off of it.
"Shit, Terry's going to kill me." I muttered.

"There you are." Terry's voice came from behind me when I was trying to find him in the dense crowd.
"I've been looking all over for you. Where have you been?!" Terry yelled, spitting all over the place.
"I was at the butcher shop, getting the knives." I said quickly.
Terry raised an eyebrow and his eyes suddenly constricted, staring at me angrily.
"Another bloodstain... That's another month in the cellar." He sighed.

I sighed heavily, "Whatever. But this time, I get to keep my guns."
"Fine, whatever you say."

"C'mon! Get in already!" He said nudging me inside the pitch black cellar.
"Can't we get a light installed at least?!"
"Will think about it the Next time!" He yelled back, closing the door shut.

I sat down in a corner and sighed.
"Lets get some practise." I stood up and unsheathed my gun and picked up a chalk from the ground and drew a target on the wall.
I pulled the trigger thrice and three bullets went speeding to the target drawn on the wall.
"Mph, Bull's-eye."

The time flew by and soon a week had passed.
I woke to sounds of laughter and music coming from far away. I heard a series of locks and shutters open and then Terry came out of the shadows, staring through the bars on the door.
He opened the Door and came in.
"You're getting a cut."
I raised an eyebrow.
"What? C'mon Its Christmas!" He said with a laugh.

Terry led me upstairs, the music getting louder by the minute. We climbed through the trapdoor and I saw dozens of people, drinking, laughing and even kissing. The room was brightly lit and people were starting to stare at us. They probably remembered me from the market, When I killed the bitches. But maybe they were too drunk to care.
"What. In. The. Hell." I muttered.
Terry clapped his hand on my back.
"Go wherever you want." He said with a drunk smile.