Shattered Book 1: Some Things Are Better Broken

I stare shell shocked at the mirror on the floor before me, struggling to grasp my reality, when the ground starts to rumble. I look up. Slowly, I rise to my feet, listening intently.

This isn't like before, not like the destructive forces that battered my world a few minutes ago. This was distinct, rythmatic thudding, as if something was walking across this deserted wasteland of a home.

I slowly stand and creep down to the foyer, wary of the sounds outside. Holding myself low, I sneak out onto the deck, hiding myself in the furniture around me. Those footsteps don't sound like they belong to anything organic, I think to myself, when a metallic screeching interrupts my thoughts.

It's a horrid sound, as if a mechanical demon had screamed into the newly risen sun. I wince, my ears ringing a bit. The footsteps stop with a sudden thud, and I hear a hatch open. A gentle thump meets my ears, and I peek from my hiding spot, searching for the culprit.

"I'll add that to the mental checklist, 'grease larry's joints'" mutters a gruff female voice, and i watch her dust off her cargo pants, turning to look at the mech she climbed out of. Her grey eyes glanced around nervously, as if looking for something. "Uhh, kid? Is there any chance you're around here? Any at all?" she glanced around again, sighing when she found nothing.

I stand up urgently, my body moving on its own. "Wait," I call, my voice breaking. My breathing shakes as I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. She stops and turns to face me. "There you are! I was wondering where you had gone." she spoke softly, her gruff voice almost purring as she slowly approached me, as if scared I would bolt like a frightened animal. "I'm here to help."

She stops at the edge of the deck, work gloves on her outstretched hand, waiting for me to take it.

"First off, who are you? Second, what in the name of all things good is happening?!"

Panic creeps its way into my voice, but I swallow the lump in my throat and look her firmly in the eyes. Her face softens, but her hand stays strong, an invitation unanswered. "My name is Scrapper, and I'm part of an association called 'The Lost Ones'. I'm sure you have a lot of questions, and we're the ones to ask. You've been trapped in an illusion, but we're here to save you. Think of it as a jailbreak," she grins.

"But jailbreaks are illegal, right?" I ask, suspicion clear in my voice.

"oh....right." She grimaces. "Well, we aren't the bad guys in this situation." The radio in her pocket buzzes. 'Scrapper, get the kid and go! We have to come in for a quick pickup!'

The transmission dies out in a bout of static. "Shit," she mutters, grabbing at the radio and speaking into it. "Got it. I just need five minutes."

The response is immediate. 'I can give you two.'

She hisses, pulling air through her teeth. She turns to face me again. The joking tone that her voice had before was gone as she spoke.

"I can't explain everything right now, but I need you to trust me. Right now, there people fighting out there for your safety, and we can't keep you safe if you don't take my hand."

I could hear the desperation in her voice, and the intensity of her gaze stirred something inside of me. If I can learn more about what happened to my family, if I can find out more about whats happening to ME, I grasp her hand firmly, stepping off the deck to stand next to her.

I think taking a hand is worth it.