• There was a crash, she picked up off her feet and carried into the bathroom, and then it seemed like everything happened at once yet all too slowly. As Charlotte landed on the hardwood floor, she found herself unable to utter even a single cry for help. Shock engulfed her, and had she screamed, it wouldn't have helped anyway. The door was abruptly closed and Goliath's hands covered her mouth. She found it hard to breathe, let alone talk.

    At first, she thought that Goliath was attacking her and she had been all prepared to fight back, but when she heard shouts from the other end of the home, she knew that it was the exact opposite. He had been right. They had not much time. Someone was here, and someone was going to get hurt. And as she began to whimper, she drew her knees up to her chest, and set her hands on Goliath's, hoping he would move his hands despite the fact he was afraid she'd make any noise. She was afraid, yet she had not yet seen the threat. All her trust in the big man behind her, she leaned against him and held her breath. Goliath hesitated for a moment, but let her go. He stayed behind her, pulling her closer to him, so that his lips were at her ear. "Shhh."

    From what sounded like the kitchen, she heard a shout, a man's voice, and her heart rate reached an all time high. Another shout. Another man. Shouting.
    A scream. Her brother.

    "Goliath!" she hissed, her hands beginning to tremble. "What about them?"

    Silence.

    She struggled out of his arms abruptly. Aiden... Standing, Charlotte opened the door, and ran. However, her feet met the floor only twice before she was picked up again, huge, bulging, dark skinned arms holding her back. Thrashing wildly, hearing Aiden's yelling again, she tried wildly to free herself from Goliath's arms. He held tight though, and began to drag her back again. She was dropped immediately, however, as a man adorned in clothing designed only for combat entered the room in front of her. Her backside hit the floor with a thud, and she heard Goliath behind her shift on his feet. When she looked up, he had withdrawn a gun. A big one, and he was pointing the bad end of the deadly weapon at the combat-ready stranger.

    "She's not the one. Leave," Goliath said, his voice cold. All the gentleness Charlotte had heard before had evaporated into thin air. He sounded horrifying. He sounded like a killer. "I'll blow your brains out, swear to God." Like a killer.

    "I look like an idiot? I'd like to think not." From the other room, Aiden's voice became silenced. And where was her father, anyway?

    Goliath rushed in front of Charlotte, half blocking her view.

    "You know full and well that if you take her, you'll have an entire organization of Shades on your a**," he said. "You all don't like attention. Let this one go." It was amazing how calm Goliath's voice was through the entire situation. It was as if a different person had taken control when the danger had entered the Preston home. He sounded not only calm, but dangerous. Threatening.

    It became as if she were property, and they were bartering for her life.

    “You know full and well that you’ve no claim to her. We have full rights,” the combat man said, a full smile on his face.

    Full rights? The stranger was obviously talking about her, and it was chilling to the core. She could not remember the last time she had been so afraid. Still, she had a very large, very angry black man in the way of the threat. He was a wall of safety between her and what seemed like the end of her. She wondered, had she ever really been afraid for her own life before?

    “You’re not taking her. She doesn’t know anything about all this,” Goliath said through clenched teeth. His muscles bulged and he held the gun in front of him white-fisted.

    Maniacal laughter filled the room. “Charlotte, correct?” He was looking straight at her, breaking the conversation from her protector to herself. She didn’t move a muscle or utter a word.

    “I don’t think you’re one of the silent ones, Miss Preston. I’ve done my research, and if I were you I’d cooperate fully.” He glanced up at Goliath, grinning like a madman, then back again at Charlotte. “What would you say if I said you were special? And not like that bullshit they told you in Kindergarten, Darling.”

    If she said nothing, would he shoot? “What do you mean?” Apparently, he wanted conversation, and obviously, Goliath didn’t want her to speak. He took a step toward the oddly clothed man, and raised his gun toward his head. The guy really liked to laugh, because even when threatened by someone as massive as the protector, he did so.

    “Miss Preston,” he said again, simply loving the attention he was receiving from Goliath. “You’ve got something very very different about you. I have no proof that you realized it yet, but in time you’ll realize it for sure.” She already knew she was special. She’d said the very words not an hour ago. “Tell me, do you wish to be informed?”

    “She doesn’t,” Goliath was apparently done with his continuous talking. “Kennedy, she’ll not be going with you.”

    He had a name. Goliath knew him. Kennedy. And again, Goliath was claiming she belonged to no one.

    “Oh, you know she will. What are you going to do? Shoot me?” Laughter again. “What does she call you, by the way?”

    Her protector paused, and for a moment a look of panic crossed his face. Reluctant to say anything, but appearing to be forced to he said through clenched teeth, “Golaith.”

    Again, laughter. Again, the Kennedy's gun was raised to Goliath's forehead, and before he could utter another syllable or take the shot that he had been threatening through the entirety of the situation, his brain was blown to bits just as Goliath had threatened. It wasn't like in the video games and movies that she had seen Aiden play over and over. When Kennedy's head was broken open by the force of the bullet, there was more blood, more flesh, and in reaction to the unfortunate event, Charlotte Preston buckled over and gagged. Immediately around her came the arms of the big black man who had just murdered the enemy. In the other room, footsteps were echoing.

    "Be calm. Stay close. Let's go."

    And as if her body were set into autopilot, she obeyed. Standing from the bloody, hardwood floor of her bedroom, she walked toward Goliath, stopping at his heels. Nodding in acknowledgement and with a look of pity, he rose his weapon back up, moving swiftly but carefully on his feet, and into the next room.

    Into their view came the kitchen, one dead body, a pile of blood, and a misplaced kitchen knife. It was another of the combat-dressed. Another enemy had been killed, and by the looks of the simply knife in his skull, he’d been killed by one of Charlotte’s own family members. Despite the death and horror she was experiencing, she half smiled in a bloody sense of justice. Already, she hated these men and she hadn't much of a clue what they wanted or why they were here. It had something to do with her though. She was special...

    Two people entered the room, and both were shot upon entry. All in similar costumes and covered in the same red wet stuff. Sick. Wrong.

    “Only two more rooms, Charlotte,” Goliath said frantically, no longer bothering to keep his voice even remotely quiet. “We’ll be out safe.” That sounded like a promise.

    One room, and nothing. The bastards had shoved all books off their shelves, all furniture over on its side, and across the floor was nothing but mess. Goliath and Charlotte weaved their way through the destruction, and into the living room, which by now looked like a dungeon of hell itself. Yet another two dead bodies awaited, and for the first time in her young, hopeful life, Charlotte wanted to be dead herself. Up in heaven with her mother, with her grandpa, and now, with Aiden and her father.

    Little, sweet Aiden lay on the ground, prone, his appendages spread and limp. He lay in a pool of blood. And by God her father was unrecognizable. By the looks of it, had received shots to his face, and the killer had not thought that a single shot would suffice.

    “Oh my God...” The words escaped her lips in hardly a whisper, and her legs nearly gave out below her. She heard the shots that echoed after, but her mind was too numb to acknowledge the danger she was in, let alone move.

    Another shot. “Charlotte!” Goliath yelled. His voice seemed far away.

    And so what if she were taken down by a bullet? Then she would be in the exact position her family was in. Look how utterly alone she was. She just couldn’t do it. Couldn’t do it.

    She fell to her knees.

    “Charlotte!”

    “No,” she replied, her words barely a murmur. She was unsure if Goliath had heard her at all, and even if he had, would he understand. “No.”

    She let her chin hit her chest and her head drooped as she let the weight of the world crush her to the ground. In the midst of the gunfire and ceaseless shouting from her friend and enemies, Charlotte Preston gasped, then sighed without a hope for much, and with an anger for everything. There was an anger for her mother's death, for her father, for young, sweet Aiden. For Goliath who was beaten when she found him, his face permanently changed with the wounds that would soon turn into eternal scars. There was fury for the dead man that now lay in her room, the one called Kennedy. He meant her harm. He meant Goliath harm. He was one with the killers of her family and by God he had deserved to die. So did all the rest. Who would she be if she just gave up? Nothing. She would become hollow. Hollowness was for another time. Right now, she only wanted to save herself, and Goliath.

    "Charlotte!" Goliath screamed again, breaking her from her trance of epiphany. She pushed herself from the floor, reality cascading through her veins like a river of fire. For a moment, her vision blurred and the edges of her world went dark. But she overcame the dizziness soon enough and took the time to acknowledge that now would be a great time to escape from her home.

    Goliath shot another man in the chest as he was shot at himself. She thanked God he was not hurt. "Goliath!" Charlotte yelled; fear confronting her as if she had just realized for the first time that she was, in fact, mortal. "Let's go."

    She was reborn, it seemed. Her legs pumped, carrying her to the front door and out to the lawn where five different cars awaited. Two were filled and before her mind could set on the fact, she was being shot at. From behind her too, as she set off running for the forest where she had found Goliath during the peaceful part of the day, more shots echoed and she recognized them specifically from Goliath's own weapon. All she could think to do was run. Just run.

    And so she did. It was amazing, the energy that was running through her when only moments ago her heart had been dead and seemingly unbeating. Now it pumped and pumped. It pumped precious blood and oxygen through her veins, bringing her to life and giving her the determination and need for survival.

    Oh God, she thought as she heard footsteps behind her, Why would I want to die? Why would I ask for that? She didn't care who's footsteps they were. Enemy or friend, she was ******** running. Life was too beautiful to end it, and if she let her parent's and her brother's death go without reason, then she would die not in satisfaction, but in remorse. She needed answers. To get the answers, she needed to live. And so did Goliath.

    She weaved through the trees, and silently as she ran gasping for breath, she thanked God for her lithe body and agile potential to move. Charlotte was alive. By God, she was alive. But where was Goliath? Braving herself, she slowed her pace a minuscule amount and glanced behind her to see the owner of the footsteps she had been hearing for the past however long it was. Her heart stopped at the sight of Goliath, trailing a bit behind her, obviously keeping watch of the enemies that would soon be on their tail. Sputtering back to life, her heart screamed from triumph and pain.