The room was dark and nearly frozen. Genevieve Hanson laid half dead in the middle of the plastic covered concrete. Her neck was slit with a gash dangerously close to her jugular. She hadn't moved. Not since she fell forward due to her body losing too much blood. She lied there limp, tortured, deflowered, left powerless against her captor, whom had left her to rot in his basement for three long days. By the third day, Genevieve only had two sorts of feeling left in her body. One was the feeling of her blood drooling from her wound as it then curdled to her face, hair and clothes, loosely sticking her to the ground. The other feeling was of the rats, lightly picking at her gash. As if they were tasting her infected flesh, waiting for their next feast to finally stop breathing.

One had gotten impatient and gnawed on her left eye, blinding her on one side. Though it wasn't as if she were able to see in the first place. The room's walls were windowless and made it so eerily dark, it might has well have been a black hole in the ground. Genevieve had already felt down every crack and crevice in what felt to be a ten by eight prison and was built like a soundproof bomb shelter. She tried shouting for help, banging on the cement walls, she even tried digging out with her fingernails. All her attempts only gave her a weak throat, fractured hands, and filth packed deep under her faded gel manicure. The only thing her mangled body allowed her to do was to faintly breathe and stare at the black nothingness before her. For at that point, Genevieve's time was almost finished. Her life that she had tried desperately to clench onto was nearly drained, oozing unto the creases of the plastic. Her good eye grew heavy and thoughts coming and going. Genevieve had only one escape plan left. Her last hope was to wait. Wait for her time as well as her pain to end, for she had finally persuaded herself that she was going to die here. She would erode in this tomb until she was only dust. In a few years, no one would look for her, in a few more, no one would care to. So she waited. Eerily patient for Death to come and grant her final blissful embrace. To be gone from this room as well as this world.

Before she could grant her prison a final goodbye. A heavy thud of a door being knocked down was heard in the floor above.

"POLICE! YOU'RE UNDER ARREST!" A voice announced. There were cautious footsteps among the silence of about five or six men. The voice made himself heard again.

"Genevieve Hanson! We're here to rescue you! Can you make a noise-" Then another boom was heard that was horrifically familiar to Genevieve.

"FUCK YOU ASSHOLES! SHE'S MINE!" The boom shook the house again. It was a blast from the twelve-gauge shotgun that belonged to the man keeping her in his basement. She recalled how he would joyously press it to her skull in the countless times he raped her. The grim image in her mind was snuffed out when loud popping upstairs erupted. Another thud collapsed onto the ceiling. The footsteps of the officers spread throughout the rooms. Moving to the section her door was located. The final boom shook the Earth once more, dim brightness flooded over the darkness that made the rats scatter away from the door shaped light casting the human shadow in the center. The officer mutters under his breath as he stared into Genevieve's mangled face as she expressionlessly stared into his.

"Oh God..."

The beeping from the heart monitor beat an unsteady rhythm in the speeding ambulance. Paramedics desperately tried to keep the unsymmetrical pumping alive in Genevieve's heart. They tried their hardest to clean her infected neck and getting blood back into her near dried veins. All was to no avail. Genevieve was going under and everyone in the screeching vehicle knew it, including her. Her heart began to pump faster. A paramedic echoed in her ears that they were loosing her but she barely heard sound. Genevieve's eyesight had gotten worse, seeing a black specter-like shape in the corner of her eye. The blur sharpened and changed to what looked like a man in a heavy, deep red cloak. He wore a metal mask that covered his nose and mouth even though his scorched mutilation outskirted the cover. Talons protruded upward from both sides of the jaw and skulls were sculpted into the middle. The mask's metal shined dim in the florescent lighting. The heart monitor raised its tempo to a more alarming rate, the paramedics scrambled to get other supplies as the masked entity stayed. The paramedics phasing through his ghostlike body. Its glowing green irises peering as Genevieve's grip weakened further. As if it were eager to watch her eyes close for the final time.

"Would you like another chance, child?"The horned creature spoke. It's voice raspy and ancient yet, spoke with wisdom in his olden accent.

"What?" She mumbled with her last breaths, entirely confused.

"It appears that you are at your end, my dear, and considering on how you've lived your sinful little life, I'm not sure any of your so called gods would grant you Eden." It spat venom in it's truth."So I am asking you... Would you like another chance at salvation?" Genevieve was still entirely confused but had no time to think. This creature offered her an option other than hell, which was certain considering her occupation. So she drew her last breath with her answer.

"...Yes."

She nearly felt it smile as it reached out its wrinkled, blackened claws and touched the center of her ribcage. A blossom of glowing gold scriptures grew on her chest and the heart monitor's melody turned to one flat note. A design on a skull surrounded by spikes bloomed at the source of the scriptures as they sunk into her ruptured skin, leaving no trace of existing. She felt herself sink down and the room went black. Feeling a paramedic cover a sheet over her as the ambulance took a detour to the morgue. Genevieve had gotten her unspoken wish to leave without her pain. Leaving the Earth, as the first meteor fell and the call to the horsemen sounded, causing a whole World to crumble behind her. The Apocalypse came had come to Earth as she left it. Ending her life and starting anew in her chance at redemption.

Where Genevieve's true story begins.