Page 2 of Cut Her Strings (Fractured Puppets #1)

Chapter 1

Raven

Four months prior

I couldn’t do this anymore. I couldn’t continue like this.

I held the piece of broken mirror firmly in my left hand, poised to finalize my decision. The remnants of the mirror lay in shards around my bare feet. I stood in a filthy abandoned house. Everything perfectly intact, save for what I had destroyed in my fugue state. The home was outside of the Government facilities, but even this area had not escaped its wrath.

I guessed the previous owners either fled or were killed. Their belongings strewn about the house, a testament to a life they once lived. I wondered if they were part of the Resistance. I scoffed, what was the point of a Resistance when nothing ever changed?

It only ever got worse .

I eyed the scars that wrapped around my wrists, they were gifts from my last mission in the Retrieval Faction of the Resistance. The mission that went horribly awry.

Where I spent five months being tortured to the point of breaking. I thought I had escaped in time, but now? I wasn’t so sure. I felt broken. Empty. Hopeless.

There was nothing left for me in this life.

I dragged the sharpened jagged edge down one of my wrists. I hissed at the searing agony, but I also welcomed it. No longer would anyone else cause me pain. I watched in fascination as the dark scarlet drops slowly crept out of the wound; it wouldn’t be enough. I needed to apply more pressure.

I stepped through the broken mirror strewn across the floor. I ignored it as it cut my feet and I trailed blood into the living room before settling on the dilapidated couch. Even in this abandoned home there was a TV, the black screen reflected my image, and I glanced away. I didn’t need to witness my final moments play out. I swapped out the hand that held the broken shard. The blood from my wrist pulsated as I used that hand to swipe down across my other wrist. This time it didn’t even hurt. It almost felt good . The wound was deeper, and the blood flowed freely to the surface before falling to the ground. Satisfied, I laid back on the couch and waited impatiently for this to all stop.

My pain, my suffering, my guilt.

I wasn’t sure when I passed out, but the throbbing in my wrists brought me back to consciousness. It took a moment for me to unstick, open my eyes, and remember where I was. Glancing down, I examined my wrists and found blood. It had coagulated. Disappointment and realization coursed through me. I hadn’t been successful. My body, once again, did its job of keeping me alive. I cursed. Of course I would mess even this up.

Was I some unkillable freak? I scoffed at the notion.

I heaved myself off of the disgusting furniture and navigated to the kitchen, hoping to find something else that could take me out of my misery.

Entering the kitchen, I began my exploration of the cupboards, not finding much of anything. This place was most likely abandoned five years ago when the manhunt for the Resistance came about full force. I hissed as my wrist caught on something in my search. I carefully moved it and used my hand to wrap around the item.

I recognized it; this home hadn’t housed anyone in the Factions after all.

I set the small figurine of the Griffin down. It was the emblem of the Griffin gang. They weren’t known for their subtlety.

What they were known for? Being the last true hope for this country.

That was until they were all but dismantled, their leader was rumored to have made the impossible escape out of this country. I didn’t doubt it; if anyone could, it would have been him.

I paused as a sound outside caught my attention; an intense burst of chirping. I recognized it immediately. A sparrow.

Sparrow.

I let go of all the air in my lungs. What was I thinking? How had I reached this point? If I didn’t live for myself, I at least owed it to her to carry on.

“Fuck!” I screamed the word out into the air.

With new resolve, I stared at the Griffin figurine before pocketing it.

I was going to do it; I was going to escape this country. What did I have to lose? There was nothing left for me here.