It’s weird to see the ocean in the sky, but you get used to it after a while. The thing you don’t get used to, however, is the sickening smell that emanates from the drain pipes; procured to keep the sea life alive for the sleazy bars and diners to hunt and serve. Half their customers become violently ill or die of food poisoning, the pollution from the city rising straight to the ocean’s waves and spreading disease in every crevice.

Doesn’t sound like a nice place to live, does it? Well, when you’re poor you can’t be picky. I get by; I take what I can get and carry about fifteen weapons on my person at all times. There’s knives in my belt, a machete down my boot, concealed carry under the collar of my shirt and in the heel of my other boot, and a plethora of others I don’t wish to write down.

Of course these weapons are mostly stolen. Not by me, mind you. I could never get near anyone rich enough to own one. Rather, I visit the dilapidated, musty pawn shop at the end of the block in a not-particularly-inviting alleyway.

The owner is unfriendly and about as crooked as they come, but I don’t mistreat him so he doesn’t mistreat me. Friendship.

My house is a little broken down place on 35th street. I did my best to fix it up and decorate with junk I found on some of my expeditions, but it still stinks. Everything does. There’s a certain rotting stench that covers everything and everyone and it makes me sick.

My parents left me here fifteen years ago when I was four years old and I haven’t seen them since. Living alone is hard on a girl, as I suppose it would be for anyone. I’ve learned to survive though. That’s the key: surviving. Don’t trust anyone, and don’t go out at night. Not so much because of the people, (although that’s certainly a very valid reason) but because of the monsters.

Living at the bottom of the ocean comes with all its demons. And yes I do literally mean demons. I have several experiences I could tell you about, but the most prominent among them is the one we will dwell on at present.

About two months ago, I made a friend. It was shocking and new for me, and that’s what made it special. His name was Halls. He was about my age and he’d just been dropped off at the portal. See, what most people don’t tell you about this place is why we’re all here. It’s a sort of prison for the children of families that didn’t meet the government’s regulations for a proper household. It sounds unfair and complicated, and believe me I know it is. It’s also rather complicated and I don’t have time to go into enough detail to do it justice.

So anyway, Halls and I became fast friends after I offered to show him around town and gave him a couple weapons for protection. We were on an excursion through some lesser know city streets when there was a blackout. I had only seen one of these before and it had been so long ago that I’d had a guardian to protect me. Now I was on my own, feeling particularly responsible for my new and only friend.

Every light in the city went dim and people started screaming. Halls grabbed my hand and we stood on the street corner, shaking. Then they came. Ugly, evil creatures of all shapes and sizes came dropping from the ocean above us. They had scales and huge bulging eyes that were whited out from so much time underwater. Their sharp teeth were filed to jagged tips that would cut through almost anything. I yanked Halls into a nearby building and we stood frozen in terror against a wall.

I squeezed my eyes shut in the darkness, ignoring a trickle of blood that ran down my arm. I must have cut it when we rounded the corner. Halls was sweating, I could tell by his clammy hands. A snarl broke the stillness and I fought for control over my trembling limbs. An ugly, deformed being slipped through the window and came straight for us.

Halls jumped in front of me and before I could react it snagged his leg and dragged him from the room. His screams still echo in my ears…