"When two who have suffered find each other, the bond is like steel. They become each other's soul mates and comfort from the storm of life.

At the same time, they stir the deepest, darkest desires in each other."

. . .

I grit my teeth as I swing the small knife in my hand towards my attacker. I am bruised, bloody, weak and ragged, but I'm not going to give in: I'll take this over death. My attacker grabs my wrists and slams them against the brick wall behind me. I cry out as pain sears through my wrist. My attacker continues to slam my wrist into the wall in an attempt to make me drop my knife. My knuckles are scraping against the bricks, and my bones feel like they're snapping, so I let my knife clatter to the pavement.

I think my attacker is going to use it against me, but he kicks it away. Then I feel the thin, cold sharp edge of another knife against my throat. My breath hitches, and I go completely still, but the attacker presses the knife harder against my throat. I'm stuck staring at my soon to be murderer: his face is hidden under the hood of a cloak, but I still know it is who is trying to kill me. I know if I speak, then I'll be speaking my last words.

Then I might as well, I think as I weakly attempt to create a further distance between my throat and the blade against it by shoving my attacker's hand away.

"Stop struggling, girl, I don't have all night!" he growls.

I can hear a hint of sadistic laughter in his voice as he says that; I've always known Kenny Ackerman enjoys slitting people's throat and taking their lives.

"Why would you even waste your time with me? You killed my parents, and they're your enemy! Not me!" I cry, still trying to push away his hand.

"Your entire family is my enemy! I won't let a single one of you live!"

Even though I continue to kick and shove at Kenny's hand, I feel a part of myself giving up. If Kenny Ackerman wants to kill you, he'll do it.

But if never seeing me again is what he wanted, I might be able to negotiatewith him.

"What if I left?" I blurt out. "If I stay out of your way, will you let me live?"

"It's a very small world we live in, Erica. There is always a chance I'll see you," he answers, pressing the knife even deeper. A thin stream of blood begins to flow down my neck. "Killing you is the only way to ensure that I never have to deal with you or your family again."

"What about the Underground?" I offer up quickly, stuttering but making sure he heard me before slitting my throat with his knife.

The knife remains where it is, and I still feel blood trickling down to my chest, but somehow I can tell he's pondering it. I gulp, and hesitantly began speaking again.

"J-Just turn me into the military police. They'll deliver me down there-"

"No, there'd be too many ways turning you in could go wrong."

Shit, he's doubting you. Think of something better.

"You could deliver me down there yourself. Really. Once you put me down there, I'll never be able to leave again," I continue, trying to divert his attention back to the "positives" of this new idea.

Do I really want to live in the Underground the rest of my life? Was that really better than death?

If I didn't have a knife against my throat, I would probably say no, but right now, anything seems better than dying.

"Hey! What's going on?!" I hear a sharp, authority-like voice shout.

Oh shit, the military police is really here. What if Kenny really does consider my offer and actually turns me in? The military police should know I don't have a criminal record, right? Or would they just throw me down there without question?

I hear running footsteps and the click of a rifle. It is too dark to see, but I know the MPs are somewhere close, and their guns were ready. Kenny's attention has been diverted from me to the the MP, and I take that as a chance to kick him where it counts. His hands go to his groin, and I sprint as fast as I can away from Kenny and the military police.

I don't know where I'm running to; I have nowhere to go, but I run anyways. I'll find somewhere, and start a new life. It's not like I have much choice.

My parents are dead.

My home is burned down.

The thoughts weigh heavy in my mind and heart, and I feel myself slowing down.

No, Erica. Mourn later. Run now.

I picked the right time to pick up the pace: the sound of military boots pounding on the ground and the sound of a rifle bouncing up and down up against someones back could be heard behind me.

Shit, why are the MPs still comin' after me? Did they think I was a criminal too? Kenny is the criminal! Not me!

My heart is pounding so hard against the inside of my chest that I think it might burst out; I take short, quick breaths, but soon I am wheezing, and wheezing then turns into sharp coughs as my lungs beg me to take a rest. I haven't even been running that long, but my legs feel like jelly. Before they can even give out on me, I trip over a crack in the rain-slicked streets, and fall to the ground; my hands and the side of my face slap the cold, hard pavement. The impact makes my skin sting and my body ache.

The footsteps of the military police are getting closer. I grit my teeth and let out a grunt of pain as I try to get up, but as soon as I begin to push myself up, the barrel of a rifle is positioned between my eyes. I feel the presence of another rifle behind my head, and I look to my right and to my left to find an MP on each side, pointing a gun at my temples. The first word that pops into my head would make me laugh if I wasn't terrified for my life:

Shit.

"Do not move! You are under arrest by the order of his majesty! If you make any attempt to escape, we will shoot you!" the MP in front of me orders.

As he spoke, another MP proceeds to handcuff my hands behind my back. Then one of the MPs grabs the back of my shirt collar, strangling me in the process, and roughly yanks me up to my knees. When he lets of my collar, I let out more coughs; I had barely been breathing before he did that. The fight with Kenny and running from these damn MPs has worn me out significantly. Basically, I have no fight left, and am forced to let my head hang in defeat and exhaustion while they point their guns at me.

I'm on my knees, handcuffed, and bleeding: What do these stupid fucks think I can do?

Then again, my parents have done some pretty amazing escapes in their life; the MP officers probably think I'm capable of doing the same things my parents could.

But I can't, I think sadly, hanging my head even lower than before so that my long blonde hair covers my eyes.

The thought of my parents brought tears to my eyes but I didn't want these bastards to see me cry. Luckily, the rain will camouflage my tears. My eyes are blurry with rain and tears, but I look around at the officers anyway. The two on my right and left still have me at gunpoint, but the one who had been behind me went to go discuss something with the one in front of me. The rain is pouring down too hard on the pavement to hear anything they are saying, but I know it has something to do with me by the way they kept glancing at me.

"What?" I growl dangerously at them. "I know whatever you're talking about involves me, so I have a right to know what you're saying!"

"Yeah, and you also have the right to remain silent," an MP behind me scoffs, kicking me in my spine with his hard military boots.

When did he get there? How many MPs are really here?

I let out a cry of pain, and fall face first onto the rain-slicked cobblestone street again. Then, I hear footsteps approaching me, and then someone's fingers are entangled in my already tangled hair. Clenching their hands around the clump of my hair, the person yanks my head up. I am now face to face with one of the scum bag, good for nothing, military police officers.

"What the hell do you want?" I snap, each of my words dripping with venom.

"Is that really any way to talk to your superior, you brat?" he barks at me.

"What? Did I hurt the big bad police officer's feelings? Good!" I spit in his face.

He growls, and I think I've gone too far, but then he just smirks.

"Whatever, after this, we'll never have to hear another word out of that bitchy mouth of yours again."

My eyes go wide, and I feel my body go cold with panic. Seeing this, the officer laughs, letting go of my hair and standing up from where he was kneeling down beside me. Gritting my teeth in anger, I glare daggers up at him.

"What do you mean by that?" I ask, my tone growing low and dangerous again. "Tell me what's going to happen to me, you bastard!"

He laughs a little more, but then finally stops to look at me; a smug smirk still stuck on his ugly face.

"Well, if you really want to know, we're sending' you to where all criminals go. Can you guess where that is?" he teases.

No. Not there. Anywhere, but that place.

I regret snapping at the MP officers.

I regret praying to whatever divine being that was listening that I would take that place over death; I'd take Hell over where they're taking me.

The look on my face must've given away that I knew where I was going because the MP officer laughs again.

"Don't worry, I'm sure you'll make plenty of friends down there," he says sarcastically, roughly taking hold of my arm and dragging me up to my feet.

"B-But I haven't committed any crimes! You can't just take an innocent person down there without a fair trial!" I argue.

"Sorry, but it's the King's orders," adds another MP officer, grabbing a hold of my right arm. "And I have a hard time believing that you're so 'innocent'. You're the only offspring of the leaders of one the most dangerous mafias in all the walls. Like we're gonna believe that you haven't done anything like your parents have."

"Those were my parents! I'm different! I never liked the lifestyle they lived, and I sure as hell have never followed in their footsteps!" I screech, my voice filling with panic as they make me start walking.

"Yeah, right, now keep moving!" an officer snaps, poking his gun into my back every couple of steps.

No matter what I say, they aren't going to believe me, I think in horror.

I walk with them them, obediently at first, for I was too shocked by my new fate to think about running away. Although, it doesn't take me long to snap out of this daze: I look ahead to see that a carriage was already parked and waiting for me, waiting to take me to that horrible place.

And that was when I snapped.

I let out a furious, banshee-like scream as I begin whipping and thrashing my body in different directions in an attempt to wriggle out of the MP officers' grasp. They beat me and hit me with their guns, but I was too filled with fiery adrenaline to feel pain and stop my resistance.

"I. Wont. Let. You. TAKE ME DOWN THERE!" I scream, thrashing around even more.

I begin kicking as well, even though I am too blinded by rain, tears, and anger to see any useful spots to hit. I feel my foot hit something soft, and then one of MPs is groaning, letting go of my arm in the process. Now that I only have one arm in someone's grip, it doesn't take too much squirming to free myself from that person. I don't know what I am going to do with my hands cuffed behind my back, but I know I am going to keep fighting as long as I can. My breaths are ragged, and almost savage like.

If my hands were free, I'd kill these rat bastards.

I try running, but someone grabs my arm again, digging their nails into my flesh this time to keep a better hold. Letting out a small scream of pain, I feel my strength weaken a little. Another MP officer attempts to cover my mouth, but as soon as his hand gets close enough, I sink my teeth, hard down into his skin. He lets out a scream of agony that's worse than any other scream I've ever heard before, worse than even my own. The MP tries to yank his hand away, but I bite down even harder, practically latching myself onto his hand to keep from having to go to that carriage; the metal-like taste of blood begins to spread on my lips, and his screaming continues.

All through this, I am still escaping all the attempts from the MPs to grab me. Eventually, I feel the butt of a rifle ram hard into my temple. Tears pour out of my eyes subconsciously, and a sudden feeling of dizziness overwhelms me, but I only bite down harder on that man's hand; the biting muffled my screams of pain from that gun hitting me. The man with hits me with the bottom of the gun again, harder this time, and continues to keep doing it. Each time, he aims for my temple; it feels like he was going to break the side of my skull. I try, with all of my might, to stay awake, I try to keep hold on this man's hand, I try to keep fighting. But soon, my teeth release themselves from flesh, more and more MPs get ahold of me, and I feel my thoughts, fear, pain, and strength fade away into a lighter feeling. Then, my vision goes black.

. . .

I can't see anything, or feel anything, but I can hear everything that goes on around me. I hear hooves galloping against cobblestones: I am in a carriage that is riding through town. I can also hear voices from people in the carriage with me. Most likely, they belonged to MPs.

"Do you see what this bitch did to me?" I hear a man yell angrily. "I'm surprised the brat didn't bite my damn hand off!"

"Yeah," I hear another man reply boredly, "but we can't execute her. King's orders. Otherwise, I'd have shot the damn bitch myself, and be done with this."

"Screw the King's orders! I want that girl dead! He wont know if we ditch her rotting corpse somewhere! We'll just tell the higher-ups we put her in the underground like the King asked us to."

"Aren't you forgetting something? They do keep a list of all the people who enter the underground or that are expected to, and if she doesn't get down there by tonight, then the top officers will know and question it. Plus, there are officers waiting at the entrance to escort her down there, and they'll know something's up if we don't show up with her."

The man who was angry about me biting him scoffs, and the carriage goes silent, but then the bored-sounding man speaks up again.

"Besides, look at her. She's practically dead already. I don't think she'll even survive the ride there."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," the other man mutters.

Then the carriage is silent again, and it remains that way for the rest of the long ride.

. . .

I am fully awake now; the pain from my fight hits me like 1,000 horses now that I am fully conscious. My hands are still bound by cold, metal handcuffs, but thankfully they were bound in front this time.

They must've done it that way because they thought I'd stay unconscious until I got down there. Idiots.

Even if I wanted to fight, I couldn't. I am very weak and in lot's of pain; I can't even move my fingers because of how many times Kenny slammed them against bricks, so there is no way I could fight a bunch of MP officers like last night. A huge wooden stick is clenched in between my teeth, so there will be no biting for me. I would chuckle, but any sort of laughing could cause my body to hurt even worse than it already does.

I must've scared them quite a bit with my temper tantrum, I think smugly.

The MPs took extra precaution in immobilizing me this time. Aside from my hands and mouth being bound, my ankles have handcuffs around them and I could feel rope wrapped tightly around my knees. They even took the time to blindfold me.

Guess I have no choice but to sit back and enjoy the ride.

As this thought comes into my head, I feel the carriage pull to a stop. The two men inside the carriage approach me.

"You better not put up a fight this time," one of them grumbles, grabbing me by my waist.

This makes me angry, infuriated actually, and then the man slings me over his shoulder.

I am not a sack of damn potatoes, I think in annoyance.

I can't walk though.

Still, he could've found a more decent way to carry me.

Well, they are arresting me. They're not exactly going to cradle me in their arms. I certainly didn't give them special treatment.

I can feel that the man is stepping out the carriage by the way I bounce on his shoulder as he steps onto the sidewalk. We must be in a public place because I can hear people muttering and whispering, the people who don't know how to mind their own business that is.

How embarrassing.

They all get to watch me be thrown away like trash into the Underground, and I don't even get the chance to flip all of them off. I don't care how weak I am, I'm never too weak to stick up my middle finger at someone. But here I lie on this MP's shoulder, losing all my dignity as he carries me towards a fate worse than death. The man stops walking, and begins talking to another MP.

"Erica Yukimura?" the other MP asks.

"Yep," answers the MP carrying me.

Then, I feel myself being handed over as the man who is carrying me lifts me off his shoulder and a new pair of hands secure themselves around my waist, and then I'm tossed over someone else's shoulder. The men exchange some words, just small chatter, and then I am moving again. I can tell that we've moved out of the sunlight: I don't feel it's rays on my bare arms anymore and it feels darker somehow, even with a blindfold on.

So this is it, I think sadly to myself.

In seconds, we're moving down a flight of stairs, and even though we're at the very top of the long flight of steps, I can still smell the foul stench of the underground; the scent of sewage and rotting corpses was strong. The stairs seem to go on forever, and somehow I can feel myself getting farther and farther away from the surface, the sunlight, and the outside world. I dont even have any strength left to cry, and I wanted to so badly.

I didnt want to live in a world where all I saw when I looked up was dirt; I didn't want to breathe in the grime and muck either, along with the disease that most likely filled the air down here. I also didn't want to live a life alone, but I don't have anyone on the surface either. This place has criminals, real ones, and lots of them. Living a life alone in a city filled with well-behaved citizens was much better than living a life with dangerous convicts.

"Don't worry, I'm sure you'll make plenty of friends while you're down there," the MP officer from the previous night's voice repeats in my head, mocking me.

I was so caught up in my thoughts, I didn't even realize we were at the bottom of the stairs already. The MP carelessly drops me on the ground; the impact makes every part of my body flood with pain again. To make it worse, dirt flies up as I hit the ground, so my screams of pain quickly turn into ugly, choking coughs. The officer doesn't say anything, but just removes my blindfold instead.

"Welcome to your new home," he says boredly, undoing the binding on my mouth.

There's no light to blind me as I open my eyes. All that greets me is darkness, with a little light from city lanterns, and a ragged city that looked like it could collapse at any moment. The buildings didn't look that different from the ones above ground, just stone and wood structures, but in they were in a lot poorer shape. The city was a lot bigger than I thought it would be for something that laid underground. I couldn't see much else from where I stood, but I really didn't need to see anything else.

Just put the blindfold back on me, I groan internally.

I feel the handcuffs on my ankles loosen, and then fall off completely. The MP then proceeds to untie the ropes wrapped around my knees. It takes a little bit, but soon my legs are free from the the ropes that were beginning to cut into my skin. I want to scratch at the itching rope burn on the pits of knees, but my hands are still cuffed; luckily, he moves onto that next. The moment my hands are free, I first take the time to massage my wrists, but the first thought that pops into my head is to beat the shit out of the MP officer; the frustration of not being able to do so was torture. Another torturous thought was that I couldn't even run up the stairs and try to escape. All I could do was just sit here, and accept my new home as the MP officer makes his way up the stairs again, returning to a world I'll never be able to.

The Underground was a place for people who were too poor to live with the rest of society above ground. Also, people who were too dangerous. It was a place where people were left to die: People like me.

I feel myself growing lightheaded, and I know it's not wise to go unconscious in a city filled with untrustworthy felons, but I could no longer stay awake. Besides, I had no more money or anything of value to a criminal. Well, I don't think I do anyway. I was tired, weak, and I didn't want to face the reality of my new home any longer, so I allow myself to fall forward, lying face down with the side of my face in the dirt. I close my eyes and let sleep begin to take over my body. I'd be lucky if anyone decided to kill me in this state: at least I'd be in a better place than this one.

. . .

"She looks like shit," I hear a deep, stern male voice comment.

Oh, thanks, I think sarcastically. I probably do though.

"Poor girl, she looks like she got beat up," a soft, young female voice sympathizes.

At least she understands.

"She must be new here," a more laid back male says matter-of-factly, "I wonder what she did."

He sounds like a know-it all. I didn't think the Underground had those. Great, I guess they're everywhere.

"Who cares, Farlan!" the female yells, clearly annoyed, "She needs our help! Hey, Levi, we should take her with us!"

I hear the stern one, Levi supposedly, scoff at the idea.

I've listened to this guy for about 30 seconds and I already can tell he's an asshole.

I feel someone grab me by my hair and lift my head up.

I'm really sick of people doing this.

Groaning, I slowly open my eyes, and they are met by a pair of ice cold, dark blue ones. I lift my head up a little more myself, so I get a full view of his face. My eyelids were still heavy with sleep, but I could still make out his strong, chiseled features and short raven black hair. He seemed to be examining my face as well.

"Yes, I'm alive, you can put me down now," I manage to spit out.

"Tch, I can see that," he replies, letting go of my hair.

I still have no strength, even after that who knows how long of a nap I took, so my face hits the dirt again the second he lets go of my hair.

"Levi! That was mean!" the female squeals.

"Stop yelling, Isabel, you're going to draw too much attention over here," Farlan groans.

Levi doesn't say anything, but I feel strong hands reach under my stomach and flip me over so I'm lying on my back. Once again, I am face to face with this man, but now I can see his full self.

He's kinda short to be a big, bad criminal.

I didn't say it out loud though.

Looks can always be very deceiving.

Plus, even through his long white sleeves, I can tell he is extremely muscular. His hands look strong enough to snap my neck at any time, and his eyes show that he is no guy to mess with.

"Hey, shit-face? You still alive?" he asks.

"Unfortunately, yes, I am, shit-head," I retort, scowling at him.

I don't give a damn how strong he is.

"Can you walk?" he asks, ignoring my insult.

"No," I reply simply.

"Why not?"

"You try fighting eight different MPs at once," I snap.

"Hey, don't use that tone with big bro! He is only tryna help!" the female, Isabel, snaps back at me.

I now see she is a small girl with bright red hair tied up in two short pigtails. She was glaring down at me, her big blue eyes filled with defensiveness for her "big bro".

She seems a little too old to be calling him "Big bro" still. I mean she's young, but she isn't a child. They must have a close relationship or something. It must be nice to have family in a place like this.

"I'll be sure to thank your 'big bro' for his, oh so generous, deed," I respond sarcastically.

"You're quite the sarcastic one, aren't you?" Farlan taunts, looking down at me as well.

If Levi and the female are brother and sister, is this guy a sibling too? These guys look nothing alike.

Farlan had short yet shaggy platinum blonde hair, so lightly colored that his hair was almost white, and crystal blue eyes.

Although, the purple cloaks they all wore and their dialogue tells me they are some kind of group: family or otherwise.

"No, what makes you say that?" I reply with even more sarcasm, proving his point.

Farlan just smirks.

"If you have enough energy to be a smart ass then you have enough energy to walk," Levi states.

"Where would I go?" I groan.

"With us," he answers.

"We can help you with your wounds and get you back up on your feet!" exclaims Isabel cheerfully.

"Thanks, but I was serious when I said I couldn't walk."

"Sure you can!" she urges, grabbing my hands and dragging me up on my feet with little to no effort.

Whoa. Damn, she's strong.

She lets go of my hands and my legs wobble a little bit. I try to take a step, but end up falling back on my face, my knee scraping the rough ground, and the pain from the previous night's wounds fire up for the thousandth time that day. I groan, and I slowly feel myself slipping unconscious again.

Guess it's time for another nap.

"Are you okay?" Isabel screeches in panic, shaking my shoulders.

"I… I don't really know," I mutter tiredly.

My muscles and my brain begin shutting off like they did when I was fighting the MPs, my vision blacking out again as well. One of the males pick me up off the ground and hold me in their arms bridal-style.

"Tch, idiot," I hear Levi say as he begins walking with me in his arms.

"Asshole," is the last word that escapes my mouth before I drift off to sleep.