Chapter 1
Some people may think I am weird, and granted to them I am indeed weird but in the way they wouldn't expect me to be weird. Some people even say they don't get me, but I protest. I never wanted people to "get me", for I am not a puzzle piece or an award to be won, to be placed on the bookshelf with their rusting baseball trophies from years previous. It's what annoyed me about people in general; they never understand that those who differ from the norm are still human with the same genetic branches. I think that's an important thing to remember; everyone is still human. High School is an interesting place to observe this because people don't get that. Last year, I remember sitting around one of the tables with my friends one lunch time but I wasn't with it. My mind was running away with itself and I caught myself looking around, headphone in one ear but a lack of music playing, a pad of paper in front of me but my writing pen remained stationary in my slack hand as I observed the school in it's natural order. You had the jocks, the ones who liked sports who walk around in ridiculous muscle vests, even though most don't have muscles (or know how to use deodorant either,) and them tied with the popular think they rule the school. Also, the bad boys who every has a fear about – apart from me. I'll come back to that in a minute. But everyone else kind of agreed to this hierarchy. Think about it, in your school you know the hierarchy and where you stand but who define these categories within school. Aren't we all just individuals with our own stories and perspectives, talents and hobbies? Don't we all deserve an equal chance? Of course we don't, because society deems some sweaty teenagers over everyone else but no member of authority seems to argue with that either.
At school, I am one of the "weird ones". Why? Because I prefer to be by myself. I could easily be in with the popular group but it was more of a family name than my "perky" personality. I was a Benedict, and they were known throughout the whole town as the bad family in town. I never saw my family in that way but the whole bloody town did. They ignored the good things we did, and highlighted the slightly bad things we did. Like when Zed went for a motorcycle ride at midnight with a chick, that became massive news the next day at school. However, the chick was me and I was getting him out of the house to clear his mind because he was forced to watch a murder of a child. There is two sides, sometimes even more, behind every action. I ask of you to think of actions from now on in as this; you are one side of the table, and everyone else is on the other. You get a penny –whatever penny you like, it's currency has no value to this lesson – and you stand it on it's side. You see one side, the side that is known to you and they see their own side. Hardly ever do you get to see what the other person see's, and the audience cannot see your perspective because you keep it hidden. If you put it like that – then where does it leave certain emotions and perspectives?
I keep to myself because I have a tremendous secret, and I don't trust myself to spill it. My peers think of me like this. I am a Benedict, I am the only girl with seven brothers. My youngest brother is sixteen, my oldest brother is twenty six. I have a twin brother, Yves, and we are inseparable. People say I act masculine because I hang around with my brothers so much. I was in a car crash when I was four on the way to the zoo to celebrate my birthday. Yves was meant to come but was ill, but I went anyway. The car crash pushed me back a year, so I'm seventeen in Junior year with all sixteen year olds. I was in the same year as Zed, my youngest brother, and that elected to keep me in like. That's how everyone sees their side of the copper coin.
The startling truth is worse. I am not a Benedict. Genetically, the only link I have with them are the fact they are my cousins. I was born in England, the youngest in my family. I had four brothers and two sisters. I was normal. When travelling over to Colorado to celebrate the New Year with the Benedict's there was an awful car crash, and it killed off both of my parents, three brothers and two sisters. Only me and the brother up from me – against all odds – survived the crash. I was in a terrible state and they thought I would die, and even if I did somehow make it I would be a vegetable. Somehow, I pulled through. The crash was deemed as murder with intent to kill all, so for my sake, and the brother who survived with me – Michael – we had to be relocated. For Michael, that meant a small move down south, about thirty miles away with my Aunt and Uncle. For me, that meant moving over to America. Saul and Karla adopted me, let me move to America and stay with them and become part of their family. I have never been so thankful for them doing that and I will always let them know. I was so mentally traumatised, with recurring night terrors and childhood anxiety and PTSD that I had to wait to go to school. Vick, who was just a young teen, at the time had the great idea of changing everyone's thoughts in the town to think I am Yves' twin sister. At the time, we looked similar. We had dark blonde hair, the same green-blue eyes. We both even had freckles. Adults who knew the Benedict's from when Trace, the eldest, was born believed that I was Yves' twin. But when I went to start Kindergarten with Yves, I had a massive relapse and was told to stay of school for another year so I went to Kindergarten with Zed. Of course, he was four. I was seven. I had a kid appearance to me so no one questioned it too much. But of course as we aged, I had to pretend to be someone I'm not. I had to hide this massive secret and pretend to be someone's twin, laugh along to twin jokes. Yves and I had started doing things in sync from a young age and we had an unbreakable sibling relationship but it still made me feel, well, weird. So now I'm nineteen, and heading back into school as a Junior where everyone else was sixteen, and everyone who was sixteen turning seventeen thought I was seventeen turning eighteen when in fact I as nineteen turning twenty. It's tricky to understand. So when I wanted to be away from socialisation because I felt bad for leading people on with deception and lies people thought I was weird and anti-social but I didn't want to hurt anyone. I knew that friendships I made in school wouldn't last forever because I am a lot older than they thought. So that's why people think I'm weird. But you see where I'm coming from. I'm still a normal human with a back story but people still view me as weird.
There are also so many times you can be called weird without it getting to you. I normally have the same rules as baseball; three times and you're out. Or rather, in class, if I get called weird three times I walk out.
I cracked one of my eyes open to look at the florescent writing of the alarm clock beside my bed; 3:28am. I groaned out loud, rubbing my eyes slightly. Despite having insomnia for over five years now, being officially diagnosed with insomnia when I was eleven (which is over five years – but it's half three, maths can be so far up my ass I won't notice it tiggling my stomach lining at this time.) I still hope one morning I would take up and had slept through the night. But I went to bed at two like I normally do and sure enough, woke up at 3:28 as per normal. I felt something wet carress my face and I angrily squinted, looking over to see my dog lying on the pillow beside me.
'Hey fluffy,' I mumbled, fussing my Border collie's neck and she licked my face, standing up wagging her tail but ended up wagging her body as well. I hugged her slightly, my arm wrapped around her neck as she came forward to me to lick my face. 'Gross, stop that you silly woof.' I said to her as she jumped down and ran over to the door, her tail still wagging.
'You want to go for a run, don't you?'
At this point Cotton started to growl at the door, scratching the door with one her paws.
'Shh, Cotton, don't wake Zed up. He's crabby enough as he is,' I muttered, getting out of bed taking off my pyjama shirt straight away and putting on my sports bra. Whilst I relatively hated sports clothes I just had to accept the fact that I did have big enough boobs to wear a sports bra as they do noticeably have a function. Cotton continued to watch me as I took off my fleece bottoms, changing into some more comfortable girl boxers and then Lycra shorts on top. Hesitating, I grabbed my Karrimor running shirt and threw it over the top so I wouldn't freeze to death.
My phone lit up on my bedside cabinet and I paused, grabbing it as I opened the door. Cotton ran ahead of me and down the first flight of stairs. Unlocking my phone, I saw I had three messages from Michael.
'How old are you? I can't remember.' Was the first message I had and I rolled my eyes. So called brother doing good things. 'How old am I? Is age just an illusion? Who defined how many days is in a year? Who decided leap years are a thing?!' Followed by 'Text me when you're up,'
'Er, finished having an existential crisis about the illusion of time yet?' I text back.
'I turned into you for a second then,' He replied back.
'Rude!'
'Yet truthful – which is the predominant human trait person look for, obtain but actively avoid,'
'Dude, go to bed. You're talking crap.' I text my brother, mentally adding seven hours onto the current time. Michael still lived in England after the crash but out of both of us; he was the one better off. I was in a coma for four months, and had broken bones galor. Smashed thighs, seven broken ribs, fractures skull, broken tibia and fibula, pelvis fractured in three places. I was operated to put metal plates in, but I was still in a coma when they could take them out so I couldn't remember ever having them in. Michael somehow got away with cuts and bruises and a broken arm and concussion. They say it was because he was in the back car on the side that didn't hit the central reservation – I was in the same car but hit the concrete barrier at 75mph.
'I am, you go to bed.' As he effectively became one of the managers of a secret service unit in England for Savant's, called Maui, he worked stupid shifts but meant he was up most of the night and half of the day too, or vice versa, so we could talk to each other.
'I just did!' I put my phone down to put on my Nike running shoes. Whilst I had only got them about four months previous, the soul was already worn down. I guess it was my fault; I always had an hour and a half to go for a run in the morning. Normally, I would leave at 3:45 and get back 5:15am, so I could have a shower before getting ready for school. Sucks to be, because of the crash it meant I would be in school until just before my 21st birthday. I already had enough point to graduate early in March of Senior year, meaning I won't be at school for my 21st. I don't know what I'd be doing. Slipping my phone into my armband designed for phones – a genius solution to whomever came up with them, I put my headphones in, turning up the volume before clipping Cotton's lead onto my belt loops on my running bottoms leaving the door wondering when I would be classed as normal, but my stomach dropped when I realised I would never be normal.
Bit of a slow start, but please continue to read as it does pick up a bit soon! If you're confused as to whats happening, this book is a prequel following the adopted Benedict, Ella, who is genetically their cousin. It follows Ella when meeting Sky, Phee and Crystal, and meeting her Soulfinder, which then is developed in Capturing Ella. This story alters the events of Finding Sky, Stealing Phoenix and Seeking Crystal and takes place before Misty Falls. :)