EPISODE 3:
A HAND IN THE DARK
A HAND IN THE DARK
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It was a warm, sunny day in Brooklyn, New York.
The otherwise gloomy little apartment was highlighted by a friendly golden ray of sunlight that shone through the window and etched across the floor. The apartment itself was silent and still, aside from a single sound, that sound being the short trickling of water in the bathroom sink.
Pale hands lathered and rubbed together as soap dribbled from them into the sink below, while a stream of water poured over them, cleansing them of the soap and bodily impurity they bore.
The young woman who stood at the sink, Liza Cook her name, looked into herself in the mirror while she washed her hands in the sink. Her reflected amber eyes bore into her as she absently looked into the mirror before her.
She withdrew her dripping hands from the sink and turned off the faucet, her mind adrift still as she dried them on a nearby hand towel. She turned to look at the small face clock that hung I the wall opposite of the shower side of the room.
Five minutes past four o'clock it said.
Liza turned and headed for the door, clicking off the bathroom light as she exited and gently pulling the door closed behind her.
She now stood in her apartment, a single large "room" that acted as her bedroom, kitchen, and living room. And then of course there was the bathroom, which was nothing fancy, a shower, sink, toilet, and a small closet all crammed into one small space.
None of this of obviously was new to Liza. What was new was who now occupied Liza's simple little bed which was pushed against the north wall of the apartment.
Alice she had called herself. Alice Lynch.
A newborn Liza had stumbled across in an alleyway the night before, where Liza found her at the mercy of an Inquisitor. A Vampire hunter. Liza's upper right lip slightly curled at the thought alone, not just from last night, but at Inquisitors in general. She despised them with a deep, burning passion. It was by sheer luck alone Liza had found and saved this disoriented newborn from the man who held her at deathpoint.
A slight frown dipped Liza's mouth corners as she looked upon Alice the newborn.
She lay stretched out on Liza's bed in a deep sleep, wearing only the hospital gown she had on when Liza had saved her and brought her here to her apartment.
Even now, Liza stood just feet from the unconscious newborn, gazing upon her.
The nostalgia was almost fracturing.