I'm running. Running from my past and towards my future. The cold, dew soaked dirt and grass seep into my bare feet. My labored breath comes out in little puffs of smoke. The talls trees cover the pink morning sky. There's no noise in the woods around me except the pounding of my feet and my uneven breath.

Then I hear them behind me.

I look over my shoulder and see them coming at me fast. Their dark stilettos outlined from the light peeking through the leaves. I turn back around and with every bit of energy I have left, I push myself forward. But even with my best efforts, I can feel them gaining speed.

I feel one of their hands on my shoulder…

"No!" I screamed bolting up in my bed. My breath is labored and my eyes dart around my still quiet room. I bring a hand to my sweat covered forehead, brushing the hair off it. My other one moves lightly to my back, tracing my wings.

Yes, my wings.

I'm not normal. Since I could remember, I've had wings. Maybe I was born with them, maybe the scientists that experimented on me put them there when I was younger. I don't know. And honestly, I don't want to. Knowing would involve seeing the horrible people that I escaped from 3 years ago. Knowing would involve me going back there. Back to where it all began.

The school.

"Max?" My current foster mother, Dr. Valencia Martinez, poked her little head into the room. "Are you alright? I heard you scream." Concern filled her brown eyes.

"I'm fine, Doc. Just thought I saw a spider." I winced at the lie. I wish I could've told her all about it. Everything that I went through. She seemed like the kind of woman that I could actually trust. But looks can be deceiving. I know that better than most.

"Okay…if that was all," doubt flickered in her eyes, "Well, it's time to get up anyways. You start your knew school today."

"Yes," I sarcastically replied,"that's going to be a blast." I flopped down back on my pillow and sighed.

"Oh, it'll be fine. A beautiful girl like you will have friends in no time." Dr. Martinez smiled warmly at me and left my room.

I sighed once again, got up from my sweat covered sheets, and walked across my room to my dresser mirror.

Gazing intently, I looked at myself: My sun kissed blonde hair, with red streaks. My slightly freckled face, with big brown eyes. My mouth set in a hard set line.

If grim, quiet, cold, emotionally disturbed, angry, mutated blonde girls were counted as beautiful, then I was a sure win.

I sighed and let out my cream 14 foot wing span spread out a little. My hand stroked the light down feathers on the tip. I looked back up to the mirror and smiled slightly. This was beautiful. I didn't care what peoples definition of beautiful was. If guys prefer beach, anorexic, blonde bimbos, instead of a healthy, athletic, kick-ass, blonde bird kid, then sucks to be them.

I turned away from the mirror and walked to my walk in closet to get dressed.

"Max! You're going to be late! And you still need to eat!" Dr. Martinez shouted from the kitchen, down stairs.

"Coming," I bounced down the mahogany steps and stepped into the brightly lit kitchen. My foster mother sat at the wood table, reading the news paper and sipping her usual cup of coffee. I smiled at the normalcy of this.

A little bounce in my step, I walked over to the fridge and pulled out a red delicious apple and bit into its hard and juicy exterior,"Okay, I'm ready for Hell."

"Max, I'd really wish you wouldn't use that kind of language. And it's not that bad. Only high school."

Yea, it wouldn't be that bad for any other teenager, except I had never been to school before. Ever. But I kept that information to myself. I figured I could use what I learned on the streets for the last three years, and figure out the rest as I went along. "Alright, let's get this over with."

"You're wearing that?" She inspected my outfit.

I looked down myself. I had on a pair of easy fitting, black, skinny jeans. I long black tank top, and a tight, but not too tight that you could see my wings, shirt with a black hoodie over it. I had a pair of black and white converse on, and a matching belt. All clothes that I could easily run and fight in if the situation called for it.

"What of it?" I asked.

"Oh nothing, it's just…well…a little dark I guess."

"So?"

"Nothing, let's go."