-1A/N: Based off the movie(s) Final Destination. I liked the idea/concept of it. It IS a chaptered fic, but I think it will help inspire me to continue my other ones.

"What happened to you?"

I swallowed thickly, avoiding his gaze. I could remember those blue eyes of his, way too easily. I could picture those eyes, filled to the brim with fear andhorror as he watched the pole slid through her stomach, her mouth open in a silent scream, her eyes wide and petrified as her body fell forward. The blood was immense, pouring until it reached our feet and all I could do was stand there in shock as I stared at her lifeless body; limp and pale but yet still so beautiful. It was sickening, how she managed to break the hearts of so many people. At the time I had wondered if anyone would have been as devastated if it had been me who had died in her place; such cruel misunderstanding for someone I hardly knew.

I could still hear his screams in my head as I lay in the hospital bed at night, I could still hear all their screams as they watched every single one of them be murdered by an unstoppable force. You could prevent the action, but either way they would have died. We were all supposed to die the day of the bus trip; but to due my extraordinary "gift" as they had called it eight of us lived. The other fourteen had lost their lives. And as it should, Death followed us, making sure we would get what we were supposed to.

Would they still think of my ability as a "gift"? Even though they died? Would they hate me because I was present at every death, and did nothing to prevent it? After all, I was the special one. I knew who was next, how they were going to get killed. I could have saved them, but I didn't.

I knew I would never forget them, their faces haunted me at night, as I slept. I never got more than a few hours, they didn't let me sleep. I almost believed it was them, making sure I suffered the way they did. Almost. But hadn't I suffered enough? Seeing them die was tragic, horrible…their deaths disturbed me to the point where I had become traumatized. And now, I am spending my adulthood in an psychological facility. Yeah, basically put, an insane asylum. The nuthouse. Loony bin. Whatever you want to call it.

I had nightmares every night about them; images I would never forget. The blood, the screams, the pain, the terrible sense of knowing that the way they had died was close to impossible, but yet, it still happened. I could remember each horrible event so clearly, it was like I was reliving them. I almost couldn't bear it. I was on a lot of medication now, which could be playing some part of my mind's inability to push back the memories.

I still couldn't answer his question, I didn't really want too. But I had some questions for him as well. I hadn't looked at him yet, for fear of what I might see. Another thing changed about me, I still let fear run my life. I knew the simplicity of life and death, a lesson taught to me in the most tragic of ways, but something inside me could not let go. Was I afraid of them, life, or myself?

The sound of the clock ticking was the only noise, it was almost as if we both stopped breathing. You need to breathe to live. I visibly flinched, that awful voice inside my head reminding me again of every negative part of living.

The door opened at the other end of the room, I didn't lift my eyes, I couldn't bring myself to even glance at him. Besides, I knew it was my doctor.

"Sir," His stern, yet somewhat gentle voice floated in. It was almost as if he knew, but…that was impossible. No one but us knew, "You're time is up."

Had it really been a half-hour? What had I been doing?

I felt his gaze lift from my figure, and my frail body relaxed. (I wasn't eating properly.) You always knew when he was looking at you, he had those incredible eyes. So gorgeous and deep, cold and harsh, gentle and unforgiving. A lot like him. Did he hate me too?

The table leg hit my knee as he turned around in his seat, I guessed anyway, making me flinch.

"No." His voice had cracked, like he was desperate, "It can't be done. She hasn't said anything, and I really need to talk to her."

I heard the doctor sigh, that same sigh doctors gave when spilling bad news. I hated it, it seemed like such a pathetic form of sympathy. Or stalling. Whichever.

"Sir…She doesn't speak anymore. Whatever happened really messed with her brain, she no longer possesses the ability to talk."

There was a long silence, and I just could tell he was shocked.

"Oh-ohh…" His voice drew quiet as I heard his fingers tap absently on the gray table top. "W-well then…" He cleared his throat, the legs of the chair scraping against the white floor as he rose to his feet, "Can she write?"

"Uhm, yes." Doc answered, the tone of his voice indicating his confusion, "She can."

"May I come back tomorrow?"

"Of course." His voice returned to the normal friendly tone.

"Okay then. Thank you. Bye Kairi." The slight change in his voice told me he had turned towards me, maybe to see if I had looked. But I hadn't. I gave a small wave with my right hand, the other weaving nervously through my messy red hair.

I lifted my eyes just as the door opened, quickly enough to catch the back of his figure as he exited the room. I choked down the bile that threatened to spill out and turned my head. He didn't look too different from the back, but I had caught the left side of his face and that awful scar that ran down the side, still as jagged as it had been when he received it.

I lowered my head into my arms and closed my eyes, the tune of the carnival song that had been playing in the background as the dagger slid down his face.

A/N: Long time, huh? This is the prologue. I hope you enjoyed. More to come soon, I am most definitely interested in this at the moment.