Hey guys, this is my re-done version of chapter one. I am re-writing all the story so far. Hopefully it will be more palatable to everyone. Please leave a review with your thoughts of the re-writes.

Chapter 1

Sometimes I wonder what my life would have been like if I had never come to Santa Carla. Perhaps I would have gone to college and become a doctor or lawyer. Maybe I would have gotten married and beaten by my husband, or become a prostitute in New York. Sometimes I try to convince myself that I chose the right path; but how can things like that ever be known?

I suppose it doesn't really matter what I would be. Either way I'd be aged and beaten down by life as a normal human.

For most of my life I had been an outcast. I had never connected with people. I mean after all how was I supposed to?

I was a foster child, a bastard child. I couldn't remember my parents, only saw glimpses of what I can only imagine are their faces. In those flashes they were happy, smiling at me with enough love to make my heart burst.

I had been fairly young when they had died, only eight. I can't remember my life before that. The doctor said it was amnesia and that it would wear off after awhile. Since that day it had been nearly ten years of being stuck in fucked up foster homes, eating shit food, and getting beat when I didn't do what I was told, which was often.

I didn't mind much anymore. I had become numb to everything. Slaps and punches went unnoticed by my body and I never got attached to anyone. I hardly ever went to school anymore, which got my foster parents in trouble, but what did I care? They deserved everything as far as I was concerned. I would be eight teen soon, and when I was, I was going to leave this shit hole of a life behind me and start my own life.

Currently I was in the back seat of a red mini cooper, on my way to my temporary home in Santa Carla, California. Lilly, the woman driving, was blabbing on about how this was the one and how I would finally be able to turn my life around. She was one of those optimistic people who refused to see the bad in people. She had been my "agent", as she liked to call it, for about a year now. She liked to pretend we were sisters but I was indifferent to the idea. She had blond hair styled in a short pixie cut. Her eyes were green, but she always wore sunglasses. It was obvious to me that she was insecure, even though she pretended to be confident. The slight redness of her knees told me she'd been sleeping with her old fling, Antony. By the size of her smile she must be hopeful this time that he would stay with her. However I was fairly positive he wouldn't; people don't change so easily. They like repetition, even Lucy.

I gazed out the window to my right and watched the trees wiz by. California was pretty, I had to admit. It was different than the morbid cloudiness of Seattle, where my last few homes had been, but I suppose it didn't matter what it looked like. Everywhere had a little piece of hell inside.

As we passed a sign welcoming us to Santa Carla I looked back to see that on the back in gruesome looking letters, someone had written "The murder capital of the world," in cheap red spray paint. I chuckled softly to myself. There was that little piece of hell I was looking for.

As we drove further into town we passed by a large boardwalk. It was covered in tourists and strangely dressed people, obviously trying to stand out. There were food stands every few feet selling everything from corndogs to funnel cakes and they each had outrageous lines of people waiting to buy the overpriced food.

Every light pole was adorned with hundreds of missing posters. The faces had nothing in common. Men, women, and children of every race appeared on brightly colored paper and were mixed into the colorful pole so they became lost in the collage of neon.

Lilly snickered as she saw them, but kept on driving. I knew she thought it was a shame. She likely thought those people had gotten into drugs and ended up down the shitter or dead. Statistically I suppose those were likely theories, but I didn't like to assume things without some sort of evidence.

We drove for fifteen minutes or so before we came to a reasonable looking neighborhood. All the houses where shades of white with fences to match. They all had well-kept lawns that were most likely kept by gardeners. These people obviously had cash in their pockets and didn't mind spending it for such simple things.

Lilly smiled as we pulled up to a three-story eggshell house with too few windows and a large yard filled with various colorful flowers. I was surprised that it was a single man that resided there. Women were more interested in such bright colors.

Lilly parked the car and turned to me abruptly. "Aren't you excited?" she asked in her peppy voice. "Yeah," I replied a bit sarcastic. Lilly smiled, obviously not noticing and got out of the car. She liked to think of herself as a fashionista, matching colors. She had an alarming delight in wearing blue. She said it made her eyes pop. I didn't quite understand what she meant; her eyes looked the same size to me.

As she walked up to the door I got my things out of the car. As I lugged my heavy suitcase along I noticed Lilly was getting anxious. She looked at her watch and tapped her foot, knocking on the door again. After a few more seconds she tried looking through the window. Her fidgeting was irritating and sighed.

"Well I guess no one's home," she said placing her hands on her hips. "We are a little early. Maybe they had something to take care of before they met you," she said. I rolled my eyes. It was fairly obvious from the amount of dust in the window sill that the home had been empty for some time. Upon closer examination I noticed the flowers too were overgrown. Whoever used to live here had been gone at least a month.

I wanted to tell Lucy that it was no use, but I knew it would hurt her to hear me say such things. I kept quiet and let her continue her search.

Finally she decided it would be okay to just sit in the car for a bit. As the sun started descending in the sky Lilly sighed and said regretfully, "Well I guess they must have forgotten." She started the car when suddenly a man was outside her window.

He wore large bottle cap glasses, a semi-formal white suit, and had short brown hair. He looked about 40, likely some sort of small business owner, based on the cheapness of his suit. He wanted to look professional, but couldn't afford an expensive suit. The man smiled warmly and motioned for Lilly to roll down the window. She did and he stuck his hand in.

"You must be Ms. Armstrong. I'm Max." he said, shaking her hand. "I'm afraid you had the wrong address. You see my house is the one next door."

Lilly sighed a sigh of relief and replied "Oh dear it must have been a misprint. I was wondering why you weren't home for our appointment." Lilly said smiling widely.

"You must have thought me quite rude. Never the less, if you would be willing to move your car into my car port we can get young Harley settled in." He motioned to his home.

I couldn't tell what, but I knew deep down there was something off about this guy. He had nothing notably wrong with him, but there was something. Perhaps I just couldn't see it yet.