Rebecca was not sure what she was really expecting the place of her best friend's torture to look like. Thoughts that had crossed her mind included a large, gothic building, a stone tower with a dungeon hiding within, or ruins of a home falling apart.

While the house was not in ideal condition, it was far from ruins. It seemed like a typical two story home, with panels, windows, and even a porch. It was crazy to think a place like this could play host to a horrible injustice, but she knew it to be true. Whether it was her knowledge or the unholiness of the house, she did not know, but she could feel an ominous presence emanating from the building.

She had to be strong for her friend, who stopped in her tracks. Rebecca wished her mutation could have given her telepathy so she could know what might possibly be running through Agnes's mind. All she could do was be there. She boldly took Agnes's hand into her own and nodded her head, her face's determined expression hiding any anxiety.

Agnes sniffled. She did not like this feeling at all. Standing there, looking at her house from the other side of the gate, it was all she could do to keep from breaking down. Agnes had not wanted to break down, not in front of Rebecca. She wanted to be strong, to face this with a cavalier attitude that would prove that she had moved on. But just looking at the house, already she could feel herself reverting to that young girl that her parents mutilated in accordance with their twisted beliefs. The tossing in her stomach, the shiver up her spine, all of it was beginning to weigh down on her with an impossible gravity.

But as she stood there, staring at the dilapidated home, weighed down by her insecurities and fears, relief came when a hand slipped into hers.

Her fingers curled around the digits and for Agnes it felt like the most natural thing in the world. The hand perfectly fit into her own and vice versa, it was warm, inviting, and seemed to just exude this strength that she did not think was possible. She held the hand tightly, gaining stability from it but trying hard to not squeeze too tight.

Glancing out of the corner of her eye, she watched as Rebecca stood there, and nodded encouragingly to her. For a moment she wished that she was Jasmine.

Quickly, though, Agnes shooed that thought away and returned to the task at hand. She could not afford to get distracted. She sniffled but gave Rebecca and reassuring nod back as the smallest flickers of a smile spread across her lips.

She could do this.

Stepping forward, Agnes sighed as she placed her hand on the squeaky gate, gripped the cold iron, and slowly pushed it open. It shrieked in protest, almost as if it were trying to warn here against coming back, but Agnes ignored it as best she could continued on through.

The very second that she stepped onto the concrete pathway that led to the porch, that chill felt even more present. It lashed across her bare skin, pushed along by the breeze, and rolled its way down the length of her spine and instantly making her teeth chatter. Odd thing, it was, feeling cold when she came back here when her last memory of this place was being branded why a white hot crucifix. The irony was not lost on her.

She paused when she reached about halfway to the porch. Hand raised, she pointed at the large, boarded up bay window that looked out over the yard.

“That’s where my mother used to wait. For me and Dante to come home from school,” Agnes muttered. “Everyday, I would see her staring out that window, watching for us, as if trying to scare off the world from following us home.” She shuddered. “It’s…It’s like she is still watching me, from behind those boards…”

>> “That’s where my mother used to wait. For me and Dante to come home from school,” Agnes muttered. “Everyday, I would see her staring out that window, watching for us, as if trying to scare off the world from following us home. It’s…It’s like she is still watching me, from behind those boards…”

Returning to her former home was having an obvious effect on Agnes, like she was getting lost in her past. To some extent, Rebecca was experiencing a similar effect. Being there spoke to her, and the tone was dark. She could feel the ominous prison, the strict, judgmental jailors and the feeling of never escaping.

But that was the past, and not even Rebecca's past. The ghosts of the past were plaguing Agnes, and Rebecca had to help. This was going to be Agnes's big step into a better part of her life.

She squeezed the hand held in her own. "It feels like it, but she's not. Jist th' ghosts of th' past, an' they cannae hurt ye now."

The chill was a persistent one. It was like icy fingers clawing at her toes and slowly working their way up the back of her legs and ripped into her insides. As much as Agnes did not want to feel it, it was far too late. The sensation was there and there was little she could to fend it off. Just thinking of her parents made her feel this way, but being in the presence of their home, the place where they exorcised her, it made it feel far more powerful than she was ever used to.

She could have sworn that her very breath was turning to frost. Then again, that might have just been the chill already present in the air.

A sigh and she felt herself momentarily want to just abandon the whole quest. After all, she could probably replace most of the stuff that she and Dante had hidden away. Or she could just try to forget they ever existed! That was always a good option.

But deep down she wanted those trifles. If only to say that her parents had absolutely nothing of her’s again. This idea was strengthened when she felt a squeezing of her hand. She glanced down and found that she was still holding Rebecca’s hand and the encouraging redhead had remained steadfast by her side.

>> "It feels like it, but she's not. Jist th' ghosts of th' past, an' they cannae hurt ye now."

She clenched her jaw and finally forced herself to take a shaky gasp for air. She knew that Rebecca was right. They weren’t there anymore. All that was were dust and shadows, things she knew that she could easily stamp on underfoot.

“Thank you,” she whispered with a tiny nod. She turned to Rebecca, paused as she watched the young Scot’s mismatched eyes before she nodded once more. “Are you ready?”

Once Rebecca responded, Agnes stepped forward and continued to lead the way. The house grew closer and closer, looming like a bad, twisted nightmare. From the looks of it, no one had lived here for a very long time. Detective Cervantes had told her as much when her parents were arrested. That was why it took so long to find them because they had vacated the house not long after she had run away. Cowards feared that she would talk and fled. But their sense of duty to finish their handiwork was the only reason that they came back.

Agnes reached the front steps, her feet crunching the piles of dried, dead leaves that were strewn about the walkway. Slowly she climbed and already the house was issuing out its protest. It had not had a visitor since the police were there and police were none too gentle with the house either. She shivered, but she kept going on, disliking the feeling of stepping into the past.

On the porch she passed by the rotten wood of wall, but smirked when she glanced at it. Cut into the wood (obviously by hand) was a small heart with a “D + A” on the inside. A small tear ran down the corner of her eye as she reached over and traced the carving with her finger. She sighed though, wiping the tear away.

“Dante loved to show up Mom and Dad whenever he could. They called him a delinquent,” she shrugged. “Maybe to most he was…but he kept me going. God…I miss him…”

>> “Thank you. Are you ready?”

Rebecca nodded in affirmation. As intimidating as the house was, she was calm and determined. This would not be easy for Agnes, so Rebecca had to have enough strength to share.

Agnes left her side for a moment on the porch to go to a small area of the wood that carried significance. Rebecca kept her eyes on the finger tracing the carving before she noticed a tear sliding down that pale cheek.

>> “Dante loved to show up Mom and Dad whenever he could. They called him a delinquent. Maybe to most he was…but he kept me going. God…I miss him…”

Rebecca only really knew that Dante was Agnes's brother and that he had to endure the same miserable life she did, so she was unaware of what ultimately came of her brother. Rebecca walked closer to Agnes cautiously, almost worried about causing shock by pulling Agnes out of her world of memories. "W-Wha' appened tae him...?" Rebecca felt a shudder of premonition, expecting the worst, whatever that might be.

>> "W-Wha' appened tae him...?"[/color]

Agnes sighed. Rebecca’s presence had seemed to suddenly appear. For a moment there she truly had forgotten that her friend had even come with her.

“I…I don’t know…”

She really wished that she did know what happened to Dante. The last thing she remembered was waking up in the middle of the night, almost a year before her own powers would develop, and nearly screamed when she found Dante, crouched at her window, staring out into the night. She didn’t scream though, thank god, or the whole house would have been in an uproar. Which was a good thing because that very evening, Dante opened her window and fled out into the night, never to be seen again.

He never did say anything to her. He just…looked at her with a sad, forlorn look in his eyes. She had never seen him so sad before. There was always this air of bravado around him, one that made him seem like he wore this impenetrable shield that nothing could ever break through. He was a rock that could never be broken. Or so it seemed.

That night, she saw something in his eyes; the type of look someone gets when they witness or learn something that they wish they could forget, but knew they never could. Agnes wanted to climb out of bed, hug him, brush his hair out of his eyes and ask him what was wrong. But she never got the chance. It was almost as if he read her mind because she saw him shake his head and motioned for her to stay in bed. Afterward, he kissed his fingers and blew the gesture in her direction.

Once he opened the window, Agnes could have sworn that she heard him pray under his breath, something he never did in her experience. It almost sounded like he was trying to pray for someone’s safety. Then…he was gone…

Only lately did Agnes realize that there was something deeper behind that prayer, behind the looks in his eyes. It was the same expression she had when she learned that her parents were going to exorcise her. Maybe that was why he left…maybe that wanted to burn a demon out of him too…

She sighed heavily as she blinked, realizing that the whole time she had been quiet. She turned her gaze upon Rebecca, subtly wiped tear from her eye and shrugged.

“He just…he left one night. Never said why, never offered to take me with him,” she shrugged. “He just…crept out my window and ran off. My parents were glad though. They were afraid he poison their ‘perfect little angel,’” she said with contempt. “I haven’t seen him since. I don’t even know if he’s alive or not.”

She wrapped arms around herself, in a hugging gesture, as she took a breath. She still held out hope that maybe, one day, they would find one another. But every day that possibility was diminishing more and more.

Turning to the front door, she strolled down, arms still hugging herself as she crept up. The boards squeaked and protested as she stared at the door for the longest time. Finally, though, she reached out, grabbed the handle and turned.

ClinkClink

“Damn it, it’s locked,” she huffed. “G-Guess we’ll have to go in through a window or something…”

>> “He just…he left one night. Never said why, never offered to take me with him. He just…crept out my window and ran off. My parents were glad though. They were afraid he poison their ‘perfect little angel. I haven’t seen him since. I don’t even know if he’s alive or not.”

Rebecca placed her hand over her mouth. She had been preparing herself for the possibility that Dante might have regretfully passed, but in a way, this fate could have been worse. Losing a brother to death would be crushing, but there would be finality. To have him just... vanish... it must have been a moment that would haunt Agnes. As for not knowing what became of Dante... well, she had no clue how she could ever relate to something like that.

"Ah'm sorry... Ah cannae imagine. I pr--" she would have said pray, but for the person and the situation, it did not seem appropriate, "I hope one day you see him again." Alive, she added in thought, daring not to in word.

>> “Damn it, it’s locked. G-Guess we’ll have to go in through a window or something…”

Rebecca sighed at the inconvenience; climbing through a window would be more of a hassle in jeans that did not lend themselves to contorting her body. It was when she noticed the field around the knob that she held her finger up. "Hold it a second; Ah can try somethin'."

Rebecca held her hand out at the knob, trying to focus around it, constricting the field. She tried to figure out how to focus on the inner workings of the lock. Maybe if she could identify the areas where individual pins were in the lock and press them. She tried to locate smaller fields of pins through the field around the knob, but try as she might, the objective was too obscure. She closed her eyes tightly, trying to focus.

Then she gave up and tried the next best thing, which ended up being pushing the lock so hard it ripped out of the door.

Rebecca opened her eyes to check her handiwork. She blushed at her lack of control, scratching the back of her head. "Well... it's open."

>> "Ah'm sorry... Ah cannae imagine. I pr-- I hope one day you see him again."[/i]

Agnes had nodded, thankful for Rebecca’s hope. Though the runaway knew that the chances that her brother would suddenly walked back into her life were extremely slim, she was thankful to having someone besides just herself praying for Dante’s return. Who knows, maybe with their combined effort they could actually make it happen? Doubtful, but Agnes was glad for the extra burst of hope. That was something she was sorely lacking these days.

She frowned though, once she tried the door. It was locked tight. She really did not know why she was surprised by that. After all, it was still a house. People, especially the police officers who were the last ones here, rarely ever just leave abandoned homes open to the public.

Her wings shifted up and down as she turned to glance at nearby windows to see which ones had the loosest looking boards. But as she was about to step forward to check a window, Rebecca grabbed her attention for a moment.

>> "Hold it a second; Ah can try somethin'."[/color]

Agnes nodded mutely. She had forgotten. Rebecca had powers that allowed her to manipulate metal! Maybe she could somehow use her abilities to affect the lock inside of the door and twist it open or somethi—

CRASH![/b]

Agnes yelped and jumped when she heard the lock rip off the door as Rebecca shoved her way into the house. She blinked, hand over her mouth as she looked at her friend closely.

>> "Well... it's open."

Staring at her, Agnes finally just shakes her head before she lowers her hand, a small smile on her face. “That was COMPLETELY bad. ASS.” She chuckled as she walked back Rebecca and playfully punches her in the arm. “Remind me to never get on your badside.”

Agnes reveled in the good cheer of that moment. She had too because she was not going to have much more good cheer to last the second she walked into the house. Her smile quickly disappeared as she stood in the foyer and glanced to the living room. Her breath caught in her throat as she stared at the living room, immediately feeling itchy from all the dust she saw cloud through the rays of light that peeked in through the gaps in the boarded windows. But that was not what bothered her the most.

She sniffled as she stared at the living room, there were still a remanent or two from that night: a chain that had bound her, a broken off lash from a cat o’ nine tails whip that had struck her skin…or was she simply seeing shadows from the past attempting to burst through?

A shudder coursed through her as she stared at the living room. She could practically hear the brazier crackling with heat from where it had stood at the corner of the room. Worst of all, though, was that she could hear her own screams echoing in her ears, over and over and over again…

…Agnes could move. Instead, she stood there in mute terror, unable to pull herself out of it…

>> “That was COMPLETELY bad. ASS. Remind me to never get on your badside.”

There was something about the idea of Rebecca being a "badass--" and what an odd idiom-- that left Rebecca feeling unfamiliar with herself. The word made her imagine action heroes and people with talents that made people ooo and aah. To think that Agnes thought that of her... well, it was flattering and surprising at the same time. "U-um, thanks," she said, accepting the compliment and the light punch that came along with it.

Still thinking about herself as impressive, Rebecca followed Agnes into the home.

The interior of the house carried the same foreboding atmosphere that the front yard was infected by. The abandonment of the halls was evident, and there was no doubt that they were facing emptiness, but it did not change the chill running down Rebecca's spine awaiting punishment and torture.

Rebecca was going to ask Agnes where her room was located, but one look at the pale girl going even paler suggested otherwise. Before anything else, Rebecca looked past Agnes toward the room that paralyzed her so.

The room was, for the most part, bare, but there was a creeping feeling in Rebecca's soul. She tried to guess what was wrong with the room when her field-sight brought her eye to an ominous decoration: a chain.

Normal living rooms did not own chains. This was the ground zero of Agnes's heart. This was the torture chamber where two parents took a beloved offspring and broke her, burned her, and stole her faith and happiness.

Rebecca took one step across the barrier of the room. This was what it felt like for an angel stepping into Hell.

Rebecca felt the cold trail of a tear on her face. She could feel sadness for her friend and she could feel anger for everything else. She closed her eyes, but she could still see the chain; her field sense could no longer be controlled manually. The cold steel's very existence was wrong to her.

Rebecca's control and strength when it came to manipulating metal was still developing, but in this single moment, with barely a thought or effort, with a low cry of, "Rah!" the chain snapped, each link ripping apart from the other until it was just leftover scraps of metal on the ground.

Still angry, but now vindicated, Rebecca turned back and wrapped her arms around Agnes's waist, trying to pull her out of the flashback she was stuck in. "Ye're not there anymore."

Agnes had completely lost sight of Rebecca and found herself simply staring at the living room. But just standing there she could already feeling the shadowy claws of the past reaching out from the walls, seeking to grasp and pull her back into that moment of time that she would have done absolutely anything to forget. Their taloned fingers dug at her shoes, wrapped around her ankles and Agnes found herself utterly paralyzed with fear. She didn’t want to go back…but it was too late.

She could see herself, being dragged down the steps by two followers of her parents. Her mother and father followed behind, muttering prayers and sprinkling holy water at her flailing form as she tried to break free. The very second she touched down, Agnes could already feel the blistering heat coming from the living room, the chanting that sounded from the corners, and the clinkclank of chains that were being prepared.

If Agnes had any doubt in Hell before that night, it evaporated the second she was dragged into the room.

Even though Agnes Nicholas stood in her abandoned house, staring at the empty husk of living room, she could practically hear and feel that evening all over again. She could have swore that she heard it: the whiplashes that cracked her skin, the prayers that swirled around her, the coals that crackled in flaming, bronze brazier, and, worst of all, the sounds of her own choked screams. Another second of this remembering and Agnes was sure she would be lost to it all over ag--

>> "Rah!"

Agnes squeaked and felt a sharp intake of breath. She blinked her dry eyes several times as she looked forward and saw that Rebecca was not standing in the living room. At first Agnes had no idea what she was doing, but a glance around and she spied the glittered of broken chain links littering the ground. A moment later she realized what her friend had done.

She shook as the adrenaline from her memories coursed through her veins. Any second she knew she was going to collapse but before she could even show signs of it, she felt those small arms wrap around her waist and ground her back to reality. Another shaky breath and she looked into Rebecca’s face, seeing only sympathy, care, and love there…

>> "Ye're not there anymore."

Around her she felt he shadows recede and disappeared back into the walls from whence they came. The warmth of Rebecc’s body helped to keep her in the present and away from falling back into that torturous past. Slowly she wrapped her arms around Rebecca, pressed close and just laid her head down on her friend’s shoulder. There was nothing intimate about the gesture, only that she wanted to bask the presence of her friend, rest her weary head on her and just let the world slip away.

For another second Agnes remained in the hug before she finally managed to pull herself away, her cheeks dotted with tears. All she wanted to do was get out of this house now, but not until she got what she came for. It was too late to turn back now.

Looking at Rebecca’s expression, Agnes nodded her head to show that she was okay…at least for now. Reluctantly she pried away from her friend’s arms and turned towards the creaky, dusty staircase that led up to her room. With baited breath she slowly began to climb…to which the house groaned in protest…

Agnes snapped out of her trance, thankfully. She was still shaken, but at least she was not frozen. Agnes gave her a silent nod and Rebecca returned the sentiment, ready to continue on through the building. Rebecca followed Agnes up the staircase, cringing at the creaking. Even in an empty house, the sound was unsettling.

The hairs on the back of Rebecca's neck were at attention, constantly on guard. The house was silent, barring the sounds the two girls were making, but the aura of forbearance kept the nagging thought in the back of Rebecca's head: something was waiting for them.

The paranoia was playing tricks on her mind as well. Every now and then, Rebecca could swear she heard a creaking sound coming from somewhere in the house. She shook off these thoughts, assuming it was either a rat or even the creaking of the stairs she was traversing.

There was no point in worrying Agnes more than the poor girl already was, so Rebecca kept the worries to herself, keeping a wary eye out for what came next.

Agnes sighed. She was trying very hard to keep from losing her cool as she walked into the second floor of her old family home. She really did not want to be there. After standing in that living room, practically feeling herself being pulled back into its memories, she wanted nothing more than to leave. But she knew that that was not a viable option. She was already this far and she was a woman on a mission. Besides, she would have hated to just leave and have dragged Rebecca around all day for absolutely nothing. No, she had to see it through.

One foot onto the second floor landing and Agnes felt the cold still clinging onto her clothes. It almost physically hurt her to be back in this place. But she pushed on.

Dust clung to everything, the few bits of furniture that had been left behind were strung with white, wispy, cobwebs. It was obvious that the interior of this place had become the victim of disuse, her parents rapid leaving, the police’s investigation, and random squatters. Furniture was strewn about, dust was gathered in piles, and there was the distinct sign of old footprints all over the one dark green carpet that lined the hall.

Like a homing pigeon, Agnes barely needed to look up as she followed the hall down and to the left, stopping in front of a door. She breath caught in her throat raised her gaze up to look at the door; it looked exactly the same as the last night she saw it. It led to her room.

A glance to Rebecca for strength Agnes offered her a tiny smile before returning her gaze to the door. Licking her dry lips, the runaway reached out and ran her fingers over the cool metal of the door handle for a second before she gripped it tight, turned and pushed in the door…

Click![/b]

Creeeeeeeeeeeeeeeak[/b]

Agnes stepped in and immediately her nose was assaulted by the stale scent in the room. Inside, she found that he room was void of the majority of her personal touch. She sniffled at the thought of this, covering her mouth not only to fend off dust of to stifle a cry. Everything that had every belonged to her was practically gone. Things she had nailed up to the walls, items on her dresser, her bed, everything was either gone or completely different. It obviously meant that her parents had little problem simply erasing her existence from their lives.

She shook her head.

“It’s like…they just…got rid of any memory of me,” she sniffled. But before depression could settle in, she growled as she shook her head. Not now! Clenching her jaw she turned to the bed, exactly where her old bed used to be. Moving over, she stood before the bed that she had spent a night withering and crying on due to the pain that she had endured. But…she simply could not handle it anymore. Leaning down she strong seized the metal bedframe and began to shove. She needed to move it out of the way…

The surreal chill of their journey through the bare house, with the disagreeable creaking and shadowy corners turning what might have once been a home into a place where time no longer passed. It was like a horror film, where it would not be out of place to hear the disjointed song of a music box or the echo of faulty clocks. Or the distant creaking sounds she was imagining in her head. The aura of unease mounted the further they penetrated the emptiness, coming to a head when they reached their objective.

This was Agnes's room. If there was to be a light in the darkness, this was it.

Click!

Creeeeeeeeeeeeeeeak

The door slowly opened to reveal a plain room. Rebecca was not sure what she expected to see in this old room, but for some reason, the impersonal, hotel-esque room was not it. This room was not Agnes's. It was no ones. Not any more.

>> “It’s like…they just…got rid of any memory of me.”

Rebecca shook her head. "Nae... yoo're getting rid of th' memories of them."

Rebecca accompanied Agnes to the bed and helped her push, an act which was more symbolic than anything, because she was doing most of her pushing magnetically on the bedframe. Making short work of it, the bed was quickly moved away. Rebecca nodded to Agnes, awaiting her next move. This was the moment of truth.

>> "Nae... yoo're getting rid of th' memories of them."

The words rebounded in Agnes’ head as she tried to wipe the memory of her parents away. She really did not know why she was surprised to find that everything in the room had been replaced (burned away probably) since she had last been there. Not it looked as if it were a guest room, or a prison cell, or something. It was as if her parents truly tried to wipe away any knowledge of her existence since she left; their secret shame that they would never again want to acknowledge.

Agnes pushed the thoughts away when she started to push the bed. She could only pray that they had never found her secret hiding spot. The bedframe was the same but the mattress, the linen, everything was completely different. She hoped that her parents were foolish enough to have missed seeing the knot in the plank of wood underneath her bed.

With Rebecca’s help, the pair of them finally managed to push the bed against the opposite wall. In doing so, they exposed the extremely dusty, dirty floor that lay underneath the bed. Agnes cringed at the sight of the extra-large dust bunnies, but then again, what was she expecting?

She raised her gaze to her Scottish friend and she nodded at her, willing her to go on. Agnes gave her a weak smile in return. This was the moment of truth. Either it was here, or not.

Falling onto her knees, she leaned down and brushed her hand over the wooden planks over and over again until she found what looked to be an odd colored plank with a large, black knot in it. A quick glance to Rebecca, and Agnes closed her eyes, issuing a soft prayer. Gently she hooked her finger into the knot and pulled upward.

Creeeak![/b]

Through minimal effort the plank was wedged upward, creaked, and finally popped out. Agnes coughed as the effort seemed to send a cloud of dust wafting across her pale features. She continued to cough as she waved her hand to move the dust away. When it was finally done, Agnes peeked down, trying to peer through the dust. For a moment she felt her heart sink. All she saw was darkness…until the dim light from her window reflected on something dully within.

A spark of hope and Agnes thrust her hand down into the blackness, reached around until she felt her hands curl around the handle of her long sought after object. Heart racing, she pulled and pulled until finally it slipped out past the narrow opening.

“AHH!” THUDDD!![/b] “Oooow…my butt…” she moaned in complaint. So caught up in the fervor of pulling, Agnes pulled a bit harder than necessary and squeaked as she fell backward and landed on her back. She coughed and groaned, but sitting on her chest was an aged, leather briefcase, heavy with her last worldly treasures.

Rebecca watched in amazement as Agnes opened up the secret compartment in the floor, like the one untainted place remaining in the room. Rebecca held her breath, praying that Agnes's parents never stumbled upon their daughter's one secret.

>> “AHH! Oooow…my butt…”

Rebecca stifled a chuckle at her friend's fall. She considered making a comment about Agnes's boney butt, but the moment was too serious for that, (not to mention the "pot calling kettle black" nature of the comment.) Rebecca eyed the old suitcase, clearly of personal value to Agnes. "Dae ye wanna open it here, ur shoulds we head back?"