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ˏˋ°•*⁀➷franklin, tennessee
A SCORCHING TRAIL OF FRESH TEARS FLOOD DOWN THE CRIMSON-STAINED CHEEKS OF CASSIE O'MEARA. Petrified tremors rippling through her weary body, the small girl clutches desperately onto the torn-up fabric of a tiny, plush rabbit, clinging to it as if it were her only lifeline.
The frail body of the seven-year-old girl had been folded almost in half, with her scraped knees pulled jaggedly against her chest. Barely does she fit within the miniscule confines of the damp cupboard, but desperation had forced her hand. A corruptive darkness wraps its strong arms around her trembling frame, suffocating her within its merciless embrace. The sole source of light is the specks of illuminance that seep through the small crack beneath the rotten, closed door protecting Cassie from the horrors of the world beyond.
"The fuck happened here?"
A muffled, unfamiliar voice pierces through the tension-drenched air, his thickly accented voice muffled by the time it reaches Cassie's ears. Upon the otherside of the door, two strangers lurk – Cassie's heart thundering within her aching chest as their footsteps grow nearer. "Probably just' Raiders'."
"Think anything's salvageable?"
"Don't look like it."
The scuffed floorboards beneath Cassie rumble with the vibrations of approaching footsteps. Her breath hitches within her throat, and one hand darts toward her mouth, covering it in a desperate plea to remain unseen. From the few glimmers of light from beneath the door, she can make out the shadow of a nearby figure, halting just before the closed doorway.
"Shit. Joel?"
"Yeah?"
Within seconds, a deafening silence consumes every last droplet of oxygen within the air. Despite the blinding curse that was her own childish naivety, even Cassie knew her safety had been compromised. A visceral dread churns within her stomach, setting the young girl ablaze from within, as all she can do is wait.
The old-fashioned, oaken door is swung open with a thunderous bang. The abrupt invasion of light blurs the young girl's vision, momentarily paralysing her. As her vision regains its footing, the towering form of two, unfamiliar figures comes into focus – each with a gun raised cautiously at her. However, as the seemingly younger of the two strangers slowly realises that their opponent was no more than a young, petrified girl, he lowers his weapon.
"Shit," The younger of the two men mutters, running a blood-stained hand through his dark, tangled locks of hair. He stumbles a step back, utterly taken aback by the peculiar situation they'd happened upon. His eyes darting away from the young girl, and onto his companion, the stranger's brows knit together with an odd mixture of concern and confusion as he realised there is still a weapon aimed at the child. "Joel- put that down, man."
