1 The Beginning

Elijah was dying. Blood flowed out of his petite figure like a torrential river. Hope fell to the floor in a disheveled heap watching as the life drained out of her loved one's vibrant eyes, as his rosy complexion lost all color, as the arms that once held her tightly grew limp.

Hope didn't hear the ambulance arrive. She only made out its blurred shape through her swollen, bloodshot, weeping eyes. A pair of strong arms pulled her into the blinding light of the ambulance while Samael was transferred onto a stretcher.

*Beep*

"Just to confirm, six-inch laceration, full thickness, to right upper arm?"

*Boop*

"Roger, we've just got out of the street. We're beginning hemorrhage control at the moment. We'll be doing op's in a second. Over."

Ignoring the stench of the lingering chemicals in the vehicle Hope tightly clung onto the crisp white sheets. She fixedly watched as the lifeless body was stripped of its crimson soaked shirt. Hope held back the urge to vomit while the paramedic began to bandage Elijah.

"Can you fix him?" She muttered. No reply. "Can you fix him!"

"I can't confirm anything," said the paramedic. "Control, update on the situation. There are two additional slash wounds on the left side of his chest."

The drips and bed rattled as the ambulance sped off towards the hospital. Every bump caused Selena's anxiety to climb. The ride was far more terrifying than the incident, yet it was just the beginning.

The air crackled, gunshots pouring into the ambulance as loud as thunder and as fast as lightning. Slow to react, Hope watched on helplessly as one after the other bullets poured in through one side of the vehicle and exited out the other.

The last bullet landed dead-center at the unlucky paramedic's head. Hope vomited as brain matter splattered the tight interior. She gaped at Elijah's unbandaged chest with unshed tears threatening to spill down her eyes.

…

Hope's first memory was of her father hitting her mother in the face as hard as he could. Her mother's lips busted and her body crumpled against the floor. Hope slowly turned to face the giant of a man who used to say he loved her.

Her father was been startled by the sound of the door opening. Glancing over his left shoulder, he saw his kid wearing a cut-off white t-shirt, tattered blue jeans, and red basketball shoes.

"What are you gonna do, big fella?" He sneered.

All Hope could think of was how she was going to protect her mother. She went running at him. Grabbing the lamp off the table, she hit him across his shoulder. Her father fell down but jumped right back up with anger evident on his face.

He kicked her with his steel-toe metal boots. So. Much. Pain. Hope fell to the ground like a deflated balloon, but her father kept pounding on her ribs. Her hands provided little protection against the strength of his blows. Hope's father slapped her four, five, six times across the face. He continued cursing and swearing Hope to the brink of death. Eventually, he stopped, slamming the door on his way out. Eyes swollen shut. Breath harsh and ragged. Hope held death's hand that evening. Her beating heart was the only reminder that she was still alive.

"Hope?" She heard coming from the all-consuming darkness.

"Hope?" Who's calling me?

"Miss Kingsley!" A shock ran through Hope waking her from her stupor. Her brows knitted with impatience. She froze watching the surgeon lean down to meet her face to face. The only thing separating them was the thin glass of his spectacles. He was clearly a head taller than Hope, seemingly out of place in the tight fitting medical scrubs. His smile was practiced, yet genuine enough to pass as empathetic.

"The surgery was a success." The doctor beamed. Hope unclenched her jaw. Her grim expression relaxed but came back with renewed vigor. Her mind was flooded with unanswered questions. Who did this? And why?

"Elijah is asleep in his ward. We're prescribing him small amounts of Codeine for pain relief." The surgeon's voice was deep, nearly lulling Hope to sleep after the tireless night. He continued explaining the next procedure in the simplest terms which helped Hope understand the gravity of the situation. "He'll be out and about within…"

A primal cry of pure terror, likely from a child, radiated throughout the waiting hall. Hope's vision diverted from the doctor onto a child flailing his legs in a wheelchair. The hospital turned into a battlefield as the nurses showered the kid with attention hoping to calm him down.

"Till next time, Miss Kingsley." The doctor called out as she sat frozen in place. He walked away with a slow polished stride but still kept up with the pace set in the establishment. The nurses scattered to make way for the doctor. Another question surfaced in Hope's mind. What was his name?

Out of nowhere, "God of Thunder" from Kiss' album 'Destroyer' started playing. Hope's face flushed red from embarrassment realizing it was her phone. To make matters worse, she noticed a family beside her gloating at her. She hastily pulled out her flip-phone from her purse with her year-old receipts intending to tag along for the ride. Thankfully, the receipts stayed put. Hope's face paled in terror as she stared at the screen. She'd forgotten to call work! Sticks and stones. Hope repeated to herself preparing for the inevitable.

"THIS IS THE THIRD TIME THIS WEEK!" Hope flinched at the volume and slightly distanced her ear from the speaker.

"Jonathon I can explain…"

"I have three tables without their waitress," he sighed in exasperation. "You might still have your job by the time you arrive."

<Call Disconnected> Hope stared blankly at the screen in confusion. That was the nicest conversation that they had ever had. Their conversations usually ended with Jonathon fuming in anger and Hope apologizing. She didn't even get to apologize before he cut the call.

Discontinuing her train of thought, Hope broke out into a sprint. Although she was unwilling to leave Elijah trapped inside a hospital room she had no choice in the matter. Her job was too important.

Hope's haste to leave the hospital left her vision clouded. The paintings on the wall turned into a blur as she darted out of the hospital. Before she knew it, Hope ran into a brick wall. Nope, nevermind it was a person. His hand shot out after her but was met with the empty air.

Hope collapsed to the ground. She glared daggers at the man who wore an oversized coat with a scarf on a summer morning. He was followed by a sickly old man whose hairline had receded to the middle of his head.

"Can't you go any slower?" The old man heaved.

"Maybe you should check yourself in?" Oversized coat retorted, "I wouldn't have to worry about leaving your sorry ass behind."

Without waiting for a response the oversized coat entered the hospital, with the old man following closely behind. What an asshole. Knowing I had to help myself I struggled to my feet before taking off.

…

"I'm detective inspector Adam Burke," Oversized coat took out his badge as proof. "We're here to investigate the murder of a Carlos Rogers and question Elijah Kingsley's potential involvement."

"Darned good a time as any!" The receptionist whistled, "I'll have Kelly escort you to his room."

Her gaze shifted to the old man, "Are you checking in?" The old man snorted in indignation.

"Lieutenant Bigsby," he said before going after Burke.