Engraved

Chapter One

[A/N please read story's description to help understand the first few chapters more]

Mori sensed an eerie feeling around her, but decided to ignore it. Her grip on the swing's metal handles tightened, only to hurt her numb palms even further. She regretted not bringing gloves with her, but that didn't stop her weekly visit to the playground, nothing ever did. She swung continuously, back and forth, the soles of her combat boots being torn apart by the rough gravel. It was late autumn, the brisk morning air reddening her cheeks, she was cold, and hardly dressed to suit the weather, but how her body felt always managed to reach the bottom of her list of concerns. She was just happy to be there, all alone, like always. No one else ever came to the playground. She never understood why. Sure, the constant, creepy, squeaking of the abandoned play things might turn some people off the idea, but hardly everyone, right? Though, she had noticed some children taking an interest, tugging on the hems of their parent's clothes, attempting to drag them to their desired destination, but the parents would always ignore their tantrums and protests, pulling them away with only looks of concern plastered on their old faces.
Mori never let any of that get to her, the playground being the only place where she felt she was still a child. Mori was 17, nearing adulthood at a speedy pace, a pace fast enough, that she'd sell her soul to slow it down. She never felt like she got to live out her childhood, her past being filled with trauma and tragedies, so much so that her younger self seemed to have been pushed to maturity far sooner than most, leaving her now, desperately trying to turn back time. Trying to claim back all that she missed, grasping onto what she had left of her childhood for dear life, but that's just how it was.
Mori was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn't notice how high she was going or the force of it either. Consequently, she was flung off the swing, left tumbling onto the hard ground. She hissed in pain, as she brushed off all the small rocks that managed to stick to her skin. She felt the stinging and discomfort of her injuries almost immediately. Deciding it would be best to return home, she pulled herself off the ground, and brushed down her clothes like it was nothing. She was strong and brave, more than she really gave herself credit for. She noticed how the cuts on her mark healed almost instantly, but she shrugged it off, deciding not to dwell on it any longer. She began her route home, pulling her hood up over her head to conceal her face.
She was aware that she didn't live in the best of areas and that trying her best to avoid bringing attention to herself was probably the best idea. She had heard all sorts of stories, from the guy who got stabbed with a rake, to the elderly woman who nicked puppies to stuff them, and everything in between. She wasn't exactly willing to take part in any of her town's weird crimes. Luckily for her, her house was relatively nearby, simply only having to dodge a bit of puddles and kick some small leaf piles, and she was there.
She was wary around her neighbor's house, not wanting to be spotted by him whatsoever, knowing he'd probably do anything and everything in his will power to make some means of communication with her, and Mori was just simply not in the mood. She attempted to jump over the wall somewhat gracefully, but managed to get a thread caught in a brick and have had to awkwardly flop onto the grass with her poor co-ordination. She sighed, fed up with herself and how easy it was for her to mess up simple everyday tasks. She didn't know whether it was her lack of luck, or the fact that she was as flexible as an old man with arthritis, either way, she had given up trying to figure it out.
She pulled herself up for the second time that day, solemnly walking towards her door. She fumbled through her coat pocket searching for her key. When she found nothing but pieces of gum and some fluff, she completely gave up hope on anything going right for her. She leaned her forehead against the cold glass of the window on the dark red door. She stared inside, pressing her hands against the wood on each side of her face. She had anticipated the door to open miraculously with her mind, but it was completely useless. She heaved out a shaky breath, resorting to her last option, which was hopping over the side fence. She knew her mother had left the back door open like always, clearly her mother's concern for their safety didn't exactly go to extreme lengths, huh? She jumped over it with ease, landing on the other side without causing more damage to herself. The back door was unlocked as expected, inwardly she thanked every superior being in existence, from God to Buddha.
She was welcomed nicely by the sheer warmth of her house, engulfing her chilled body with comforting heat. She smiled, content with her peace at last. She pulled off her coat, carelessly hanging it off a nearby chair. She heard a creak from the sitting room wooden flooring, it catching her attention momentarily, but she ignored it, her house wasn't exactly new, so she was well used to it by now. She continued to think nothing of it until it happened again, not just once, multiple times. Her heartbeat quickened, but she would never admit that. She hid behind the sitting room door, carefully choosing her steps to make sure she didn't make any sounds herself. If someone was in the house without permission, she highly doubted they would like her to be there. She stepped slowly, slipping into the opposite room, prepared for the worst, only to have anger boil up inside her when she saw him sitting on the couch, his feet up on the table, resting his arms on the rests, making himself at home.
"Lucas," she muttered, sending him a glare, not only did he scare her, he somehow entered her house while she was away.
"Morrigan," he replied, a smirk finding its way up to his face. The same face that she just wanted to slap off. She clenched her jaw, biting her tongue slightly to avoid letting harsh words slip out, that she would most likely regret later, it was a common tendency of hers, spitting out words before even letting them process first.