The Chase: Part 1.

Not a word. Don't make a single sound.', a woman breathed, right into her face.

The woman had a look of terror contorted on her face. Her green eyes, which might have once been beautiful, now were pale. Her face was streaked with tears.

'Cyrene, you must come back here. You are the one, and you will find it. You'll find the-', her voice was cut by a bloodcurdling scream, which was followed by gunshots.

The woman's eyes swam with tears, 'I must go, sweets. If I get through this, I'll find you. I promise.'

She kissed young Cyrene on her head. Then she slowly crept out. 

Cyrene looked around the place. It was stuffy, with almost no place to shift around. Not that she could do it. Her life depended on her silence.

Another scream rang through the still night, as Cyrene woke up with a gasp.

She was in her sleeping bag, staring down at the streets of Manhattan. Breathing heavily, she heard another yell,

'CYRENE! Goodness, don't you ever hear me?', asked someone.

Cyrene sat up groggily and rubbed her eyes, shaking all the sleep out of them. She saw her friend, Emma, clutching a brown paper bag, which smelt like bagels.

'Hey, why are you up so early?', asked Cyrene, annoyed at been woken up. As much as she hated it, she wanted to finish the last part of her dream. It always stopped there. There was something extremely suspicious about it.

She shuddered the dream off. She had more important stuff to do, like where to find breakfast.

Cyrene had been homeless for almost her entire life. She couldn't remember even one place where she had eaten fitfully and slept peacefully.

It was almost like no one wanted her.

With that depressing thought, she packed up her stuff: toothbrush, toothpaste, a water bottle, clothes, her sleeping bag, and cash.

As she got up, Emma thrust the brown bag into her arms.

'Wha-', she started, 'Em, what are you doing?', she asked, surprised.

'Got you breakfast. And no, you don't have to thank me.', she grumbled.

'Sorry, Em. It's just... stuff.', Cyrene said in an apologetic tone.

But Emma had already walked away.

Still holding the bag in her hand, Cyrene made her way down the street. It was a calm, winter morning. And everyone was in the Christmas mood. Shops were decked with holly and mistletoe, and trees were decorated with ornaments. The mere sight made her happy. Just as she thought she would have a peaceful day, she came across a house.

Well... it looked like a house. But it was so old, battered and ruined, there was no telling what it once would have been. The yellow NYPD tape ran across the house fence. The window panes were broken, the glassed were shattered and the door looked like it had been broken down forcefully.

'Huh.', said Cyrene, because she was an intellectual that way.

Thoughts started to race around in her head. What had happened to this place that has made it what it is today? Why is it so... destroyed?

'I suppose there isn't much harm in looking', she muttered to herself. She looked around the bare, snowy streets of Manhattan. As quick as lightning, she slipped under the tapes, ran inside, and ducked under the windows.

As she looked across the room, she smiled to herself.

'Let's play detective', she said, smiling slyly at herself.