being forced to believe and accepting so willingly. They have no knowledge of the underworld that exists and the people that walk the very same streets as them. But we are not like them. We are special.
She sighs as she takes a sweeping glance over the heart of the city and walks inside. She closes the doors behind her, muffling the noise and stopping the cold rush of air.
She marches over to the bed and slings the bag across her body. This should have everything she needs. With one last glance of the apartment, she sets off out the door with no turning back. She is going to find the man she drew. She will save her mother, and he's the only one who can help.