Rachel Lee
Legacy Name: Rachel Lee

The noise of gunfire rocked my whole body, soundwaves sent by the bullets exploding into my ears over and over again. I sat on the cold hard floor of my bedroom in my family's small home, residing in the ghetto of Chicago. I was trembling, hands over my ears, trying desperately to block out that terrible noise, but it was useless. I could still hear those men cursing and shouting terrible things at us. "That's what you get, you chinks!" one cried, another shouted, "Hey! You been in America long enough, ain't your eyes ever gonna round out?!" There were other things...but I don't dare repeat them.

The gunfire continued. I was trembling in my corner, listening unwillingly to the sounds of bullets tearing through glass and splintering wood. I was glad they weren't interested in the top floor...my father had said they wouldn't be. That was why he'd sent me up here, to keep me safe.

Then the screaming started. My mother's voice broke out above the gunfire, weeping, wailing and screaming one word...one name. "Tommy!" she cried, her voice wretched and broken, "Tommy! Tommy!" The voice sent a chill through my heart that no gunshot ever could.

Slowly I stood and went to my window, pressing my small hand against the glass, and looked down into the street. The image I saw there would be etched into my brain forever.

My nineteen year old brother, Thomas Lee, lay on in the middle of the street as if he'd just been rolled out of the nearby Lamborghini. His suit was riddled with bleeding bullet holes, briefcase shot open, contents flying everywhere. And he was still alive, but not for long. He coughed, and as his chest rose blood oozed out, and more of the vile red stuff shot from his mouth like a fountain. His mobster "friends" were sitting in the car, laughing, as my mother screamed her son's name.

It was at that moment I realized the bullets had stopped...but it wouldn't be long before they flew again. The Mob had a vendetta with my family, and none of us were safe.

Two months later my grandfather was murdered, and a month after that my grandmother followed. Both shot full of bullets while simply going about their own business, not hurting anyone. It wasn't their fault. Member after member of my family died this way. The Lee family was dwindling, slowly, and I knew that soon there wouldn't be any of us left at all.

Years later, just a few months after my fifteenth birthday, I was walking home from school. I didn't expect anything more to happen to me than a shooting, and with so many of my family members gone I had already decided I would be happy enough to join them in the afterlife. So when the mobsters drove up to me on the sidewalk in that snazzy car, I just turned to face them and stared at the window, face expressionless. I waited, but the bullets didn't come.

Instead, five thugs came out of the vehicle and dragged me into it before I could even defend myself. I was taken to the penthouse of a criminal underlord by the name of Adrik Ivanov. I was forced inside against my will, and once the thugs had left, the man seemed to think I was interested in him. He had all these propositions, all these things that he said I could gain...if I just became his little pet. Needless to say, I was not interested. I told him this, and he became very, very angry. He took me, my innocence, by sheer force. I cried, and begged for mercy, but he showed none. When I tried to defend myself, he got violent.

He sent me home, bloody and clothesless, and my family disgraced me. They said no member of the Lee family should have returned after something like that. They said I should have killed myself. Everyone but my mother and father just...abandoned me.

I felt alone, helpless and worthless.

"No man will ever want you," my aunt told me, "Not after this disgrace."

I believed her.

I moved out, after that. It wasn't worth the pain and the hurt to stay with them. I escaped the ghetto and moved to better parts of the city, but still I was quiet, introverted, and socially awkward. I didn't think anyone wanted me. I didn't think I would ever truly be loved.

...

At least, not until a certain man came into the store where I work, knocked me off a ladder, and then took me to tea as an apology. That, was when my real life began.