Prologue

Darkness.

A female voice hums a sweet lullaby.

POST-APOCALYPTIC NORTH AMERICA - 2015

THE NUCLEAR WAR IS OVER.

HIDDEN IN THE MOUNTAINS, SMALL VILLAGES OF ANIMALS LIVE WITH HUMAN PERSONALITIES. THE EMOTIONS OF RAGE AND HATE ARE PHYSICALLY INJECTED INTO REGULAR MAMMALS AND SENT TO THESE CAMPS TO EXTERMINATE THE MUTATIONS.

The raw, raspy sound of a older male child struggling to breathe.

Drops of blood drip up the cliff wall, shown sideways. Decco, sixteen years old is lying on the ground, clearly in agony. A thick ribbon of blood is flowing backwards into his nostrils, and the view goes skywards. As it does, his dilated pupils shrink. The small stream of blood from his mouth drips backwards into his lips, as well as the single tear that disappears into his eye.

---

"Why are you showing this!" I scream at my laptop. “Why would you show this!?" I yell through my bedroom door, vocals directed downstairs. I'm in a video shown on the internet, both watching, and actually in the stream. I am currently watching me getting beaten by my father and step-mother. My father… put this on the Internet for all eyes to see what a little “shit” as they call me. Many are watching. The comments are getting littered with many hurtful things that humans should not hear, see, or even think.

I start to cry. Life is not good when you're sixteen and getting abused by your parents. It isn't good when you have to pay for your own food and school when you're that age. When the people who are supposed to care for you have succumbed to “rage”. When you are left out, and are “different” as many say. That is my life. It was, still is, and always will be... Until tonight.

My name is Decco. I live in a small town called Toran. It's an ugly town, where everything is dead, dry, messy, and all in all, just a horrible place to live after the wars. While turning to my mirror, a sigh escapes my mouth. Brown hair, blue eyes... Blue eyes were a trait from my father, whereas the brown hair was from my mother.

“I'm leaving in nothing but a T-shirt and shorts...” I say quietly to myself. But I'll be alone... I've been abandoned already, then I'm going to die – alone and in pain. All three of my fears and I haven't even made it to age twenty...

“Ha.”

Footsteps stomp up the stairs. Two sets. My father and stupid-ass stepmother. I can't move out. Parents are divorced, mother's on other side of the globe. I dash to my door and slam it. The footsteps speed up. I twist the lock on my knob - they were too stupid to take it off. Good for me. BANG BANG. The slams against my door are so loud and fast it's terrifying.

"Leave me alone!" I scream. My door won't hold forever. It's made out of a flimsy wood. It will last maybe two minutes. That is unless they grab -

"Bring the axe!" My father yells. Great. Peachy. My worst thoughts are confirmed. I have maybe a minute and a half now. I waste no time. First, I slide my desk against the door - not that it'll help… I pull out my blue backpack. I place in my laptop and it's charger. Alongside my smartphone and it's charger. I have all this technology from the crime of theft, but those crimes didn't go unnoticed. But they'll vanish in time. Just like I will, and just like everything else. The front door slams downstairs, showing that my time is halfway done. I toss in my sketchbook and pencil case. Grabbing a random book from my shelf - I don't have time to carefully select my favourite; time is too precious. I also grab a map, and my wallet, which has two thousand Bells. Not a lot, but enough for a few days. The front door slams again. I throw on my brown shoes, and put on a red hat with grey horns on it, that matches my red shirt. I swing my bag around my shoulders.

CRACK! I turn around in the direction of the noise, seeing an axe head come through my door, and it gets stuck in the wood of my desk. I scream, and let gravity pull me down. Horror fills my body and paralyzes me. The axe disappears, and slams into my door again as I look up, helpless. I scream once again, but eventually regain my body control and get off the floor. I'm actually surprised the neighbors don't come over to see what the matter is. I grab a stool that once lived next to my desk, and toss it through my window. The glass shatters, and I leap out without hesitation, cutting myself in the process.

I land on grass after jumping out a story. Pain shoots through my shins and into my kneecaps. I can barely move. I fall to the earth again, helpless. I hold my knee for a second after sitting up, and wheeze. I look up into the sky in pain, and as I do that, my father's face stares down at me from my window. I immediately get up, and try to run. I try, try and try to at least move with speed, but I can only limp - not even with a hint of quickness. I try to scream in pain and or horror, but nothing. Only a small squeak that nobody could ever hear but me. I simply cannot speak. I limp out onto a road, and turn into a direction. No cars or people. I turn around, seeing a set of two lights advancing towards me. A truck! I wave my hands out, and finally produce a scream. The loudest scream of my life.

It pulls over, and a man steps out. "What the hell!?" He yells. The front door bursts open, and my father comes at us with an axe. The rage in his eyes was petrifying. I almost froze again.

What has it done to him?

The man bolts to the driver's seat, yelling "Get in the back, kid!" I climb slowly, all the nerves in my legs pumping out pure agony, but as I'm over the edge of the hoodless back of the truck, I let gravity take me. I fall in with a thunk. The vehicle zooms away from a floor-it before I can even sit up. As I'm looking at the road behind us, I see my father sprinting, arms high in the air, axe clutched in his fists. The only thing I can do is scream hysterically. Gasps filled with complete terror, rage, and victory.

The man eventually lets me off at the farthest train station he could. I thank him for all he did, and he said he would file a report to the authorities. Maybe this would prove to everyone what “rage” does. Leaving, I order a ticket for another town. I didn't read or look at anything - not even what town I was going to. Any town was better than this. It was five hundred Bells for one ticket and another five hundred for two granola bars plus a bottle of water that I buy to regain my energy. At six o'clock P.M., the train whistles into the station. That is where my old life dies, and my new life is born.