Dear Readers,

Once again, I KNOW I said I wouldn't have anything up until after the 13th, but again, I've already had this idea stuck in my head for awhile, and since I'm finally done w/ classes (although not exams...but I do have a 3-day weekend ^_^), I was itching to write it. (I again humbly apologize to the Sparky Army for my being off-task--but I did remember something for YoTS that I have yet to write, so...yay?). Anyway, the song in the prelude is "Speeding Cars" by Imogen Heap, which is a great song if you've never heard it. Anyhoo, I know this first part makes no sense, but I promise, it will all be explained if you just keep READING. I hope you like it--please REVIEW!! Thanks!

Best regards from a bookworm (and SAVE SGA! advocate),

Miss Pookamonga ;-P

EDIT: I just read in the guidelines that posting song lyrics is no longer allowed...so I've just removed the lyrics from the story. However, this does not change the fact that the chapter is in part inspired by the song, so I still suggest listening to it (it is a good song, as I said before). :)

Prelude: Speeding Cars

She wove rapidly through the pulsing throng of people making their way down the busy sidewalk. Although she already had on a thick coat, a scarf, and several layers of shirts and sweaters underneath those, she was hunched over with her arms crossed tightly across her chest, as if she was trying desperately to shield the cold from coming in contact with her. She quickly scampered around the various passerby without a single glance backwards—if anyone had been paying close attention to her, he might have surmised that the young girl was either frantically trying to escape the chilly air or perhaps just frantically trying to escape something. Whatever the situation was, there was most definitely a sense of urgency about the girl's movement, an urgency that was also plastered all too well on her bowed face.

Luck. She had never really believed in luck, nor did she now. Luck had nothing to do with her current predicament, nor had it ever been a factor in her existence. Life, she knew, was a pattern woven out of a more powerful substance than luck, was a pattern woven by more than just the mere "stroke of luck". It had not been ill luck that had brought her into the world in the way she had been. It had not been good luck that she had, at last, escaped the prison of a life that she had endured for so long. It had been neither ill nor good luck that had perpetuated every horrible and wonderful experience in between. There were things that ran far deeper in the fabric of the universe than sheer luck, and in some way or another, for whatever greater reason there was for life itself, whatever-it-was had molded her into who she was. Or, rather, was still molding her. There was a purpose for her misfortunes and her fortunes alike, and eventually, no matter what happened, things would shape themselves out to be the best they could be.

If only she had known how difficult it would be to let go of all the memories.

Those said memories—memories of countless and seemingly meaningless (although she forced herself to believe that they did, in fact, possess some meaning which she had yet to attain) "misfortunes"—swirled around in her mind like the vortexes of bitingly cold wind whirling about her shivering body as she slinked in and out of the crowd, unseen and unrecognizable. She hugged herself even tighter and drove on through the mass of indifferent bodies even more quickly as the cold and the memories combined sent eerie chills up and down her spine.

She had always been told that it had been her fault. That she was the flawed one, that she had been the reason for the terrible things that had befallen her. She had dug a hole for herself, she had always heard, and for years now, she had believed the story to be true. It had only been recently that she had realized that perhaps none of what had occurred had been her fault at all, but the fault of others unwilling to recognize their folly. But the years of imprinting could never be erased, and she knew she would always be confronted with the impossible struggle of dueling with that ominous feeling of worthlessness that had plagued her so relentlessly throughout her entire childhood.

She had once been something, someone.

But when she had rebelled, she had been reduced to nothing and no one.

She had gained her freedom, she realized suddenly as she scurried across a darkened alleyway, but it had come with a terrible price.

She had no idea where she was going. She suddenly realized that fact too as she paused (much to her dismay) at the edge of a crosswalk. Looking up, she scanned the faces and building fronts surrounding her, and a terrible rush of horror and displacement struck her; she could physically feel her entire spirit plummet into the depths of her stomach. Where was she? How far had she gone? How long was she going to wander aimlessly around the city, while the day grew dark and the wind even colder? Better yet, how was she even going to survive out here in the world, utterly alone?

She jumped when the traffic light timer went off, beeping up a storm. She fervently strode across the street and down the next few blocks, stiffly trying to avoid the questions burning holes in her mind. She couldn't just keep walking, she knew that. She couldn't keep running, hiding, slipping in and out of the shadows like she had always tried to do when she had been younger.

And yet, she had no choice but to run.

If she wanted to live.

It was then that she bumped into the woman.

She mentally cursed herself the moment the collision happened—she had been paying complete attention to the soiled ground below her when she had felt herself slam painfully hard into something, afterwards staggering backwards in shock and muttering a thousand apologies by the second, utterly embarrassed at her clumsiness.

"Oh! I'm sorry, sorry, I didn't mean..." It took her a few seconds to realize that the woman was basically spewing the same nonsense from her own mouth, and then she stopped.

And inadvertently glanced at the woman's face.

She nearly staggered backwards again at furious dizzy spell that racked her head the moment she laid eyes on the icy daggers of blue piercing her from beneath blonde bangs. The girl suddenly felt as if she was going to be sick, although she had no idea why...

...but there was something else too.

Something about that face.

Something...familiar.

But oddly, frighteningly, the recognition didn't feel like it was coming from her own consciousness.

What was a long time ago? What was she remembering? She'd never seen the woman before in her life; she was sure of it. And yet...something inside her was tugging relentlessly at her, something pulling harder and harder...

"Are you okay?"

The girl blinked several times in confusion and shook her head once before she realized that the woman had spoken to her. "Uh...oh, yeah, I'm fine," she said breathlessly, a billion tangled thoughts now whirling around in her head. "So sorry..."

The woman smiled warmly, and again, that uncomfortable tugging feeling wrenched at the girl's insides. "It's fine, it's fine," the woman said quickly, and with that, she brushed past the girl to stand at edge of the crosswalk perpendicular to the girl's path of travel.

The light changed, and once again, the throng of people began migrating across the street. The girl, however, was locked in a trance, staring at the woman who was crossing her street alone, blonde hair billowing behind her in the wind. Who was she, and why had she suddenly sparked the girl's interest? She was familiar, yes, yet altogether a stranger. The girl couldn't sort out the paradox...

...and nor would she have the time to.

She hadn't seen the car coming.

Neither had the woman.

The black SUV had rounded the corner so swiftly that the woman had had barely even a millisecond to react before the vehicle had rammed headlong into her body, sending it catapulting over the windshield and flying off the side of the hood to slam to the pavement below with a sickening thud. It had all happened in such a blur...one second, she had been crossing the street, the next, she was lying in a crumpled heap at the foot of the sidewalk as the SUV screeched and skidded wildly away from the scene.

The girl hadn't known what she was doing until she suddenly found herself dropping frantically to her knees in a pool of blood at the woman's side, screaming something about getting help. She didn't know what had moved her...but she had suddenly felt her legs propelling her forward at the sight of the impact, and now she was there, leaning over the woman's listless body, screaming at the top of her lungs, flicking her eyes back and forth over the gradually blurring chaos reeling around her...

...voices shrieking, sirens wailing, something firm clutching her arms and dragging her away...

...and the woman, lying motionless on the street corner.