Just a warning- Shiro is incessantly out of character…this was more for testing this plot, then testing the characters. Only Shiro and Ichigo are in this. it's very AU, hopefully it's good though…enjoy?~

My feet hit the pavement at an abnormally fast pace, I was fueled by adrenaline and fear. It didn't feel real at all though, I think this is one of my strange dreams. Everything was so blurred and nothing was clear, the only thing I could make out was the thudding of blood and my brain telling me to hurry up, go faster! All I had to do was keep running and I'd make it…make it to where? It didn't make sense though; I would keep running, probably fall off a cliff, and right before I hit the end I would wake up in a cold sweat trying to remember what I was doing…though the way I could hear my mind's warning to hurry up made me question that…

My whole body was aching-well it felt like it was aching-, and I was at the point where if I slowed down to catch my breath, I'd never run again. My heart was clenching, the blood in my veins spasming from lack of oxygen. My hands were white streaks in front of my eyes, and I heard heavy foot steps gaining on me. This was too realistic…

Just like in the horror movies, I tripped over my untied laces, crashing into the ground. That's when I knew it was a dream, I didn't feel anything, and there was no blood cascading from my nose and my jaw wasn't to the side.

So, I decided not to fight, because what was the point of exhausting yourself in a dream? You'd only wake up on the floor in a sweat. The figure leaned over me with something silvery reflecting in the moonlight…Oh it was a kitchen knife. Eh, I would've hoped my imagination was better than that. Though, I can't remember who I am at the moment though, so maybe my imagination wasn't that great anyway?

I couldn't see the man/woman/it's face, there was nothing, every time I gazed up to meet their eyes, there was nothing…but each time I looked down, I knew that if I stared up again I could see them! But I couldn't hold an image…how strange. There was no sound anymore, just a metallic clang, really sharp in my ears. It stung. I didn't fight when their clenched fist descended towards me. I couldn't see the skin tone, I couldn't see any details, but some how I knew it was sweaty…and blood covered when it came back away from me. I think it might've been gloved…I couldn't tell. I didn't expect to feel anything, just like when I tripped onto my face, but when the harsh blade ripped through my buttoned up shirt, and pierced my chest, it hurt worse then anything I'd ever felt. But I didn't bleed..it felt like I was, I could feel liquid coursing down me, but there was nothing there.

It kept striking me, over and over in all different places, no more adrenaline to keep me numb and fast. The person worked their way up my body, plunging the knife into my collarbone. I wanted to scream. It was sharp and stinging, and the slithery disgusting feeling of blood rushing out of me-even though it wasn't- made me want to puke. The impact of it cutting through my bones felt like a huge bruise, the wiggling of the unsteady hand jarring it inside me. It was the most intense feeling…why did it have to be pain though?

When it went through my lungs I could feel it. nothing was as focused or real as the knife in my rib cage. It slid out, sickeningly slow, a suction like noise following, making me cough. My lungs filled with what I think was blood… That part wasn't as clear. The worst part was this, because once it was gone, my new wound ached for something to cover it, make the pain stop. I was shredded.

At this point, even if I did want it to stop, I couldn't fight back. When it struck into my throat, I was silenced, no more noise. Something different happened to me this time though…when whoever it was released their grip, realization flashed through me…this wasn't the first time I'd had this dream…I'd had this dream every night since I could remember…every single night…this same thing happened to me. The pain flooded through me ten fold at this thought, every fiber of my being nothing but on fire with the sick feeling of cold slimy metal inside me…it's indescribable unless you've been cut deeply before.

The blade was still in my neck, let me tell you, it was worse then any sore throat, searing and sharp…and in this case warm and wet…in a bad way.

Such a realistic dream…it was as if I could feel my life fading away, all my ability to comprehend things was gone. Why was my chest rising?...what was the purpose of pulling air into me for?...actually it was quite…what's the word?...word? what is a word? What's this cold thing under me?

The more I thought about it, the more I realized everything was quite comfortable the way it was. The darkness was a relief almost…no more buzzing or keening in my ears from the…the what? Hovering could be the word used to describe this feeling. Wait, hovering? What did that mean again?

Then, everything changed again. I was back to understanding. I couldn't see though…but I knew that when this dream was finally over, and these feelings gone, just like every time I slept, that I'd be back in the real world. I knew that. Every night, or day, depending on when I slept, I'd have this dream. This same dream, and I'd never remember it, or what it was about until I got to this point, this limbo between sleeping and consciousness. As soon as I came back to reality, I'd completely forget…there was something I was trying to remember, something I knew I desperately needed to understand! It would help me…I don't know how, but if I could remember this thing, then I could go some where…but where was that?

~)?(~

Where had I fallen asleep this time? Oh, this cemetery. This was the fifth time this month. I guess I should be glad no one had found me. Every once in a while I'd alternate cemeteries. They weren't that far apart…but for some reason, I couldn't stay away from this one. I'd slept on a slab of cement over one of he graves…it was a wonder how my back wasn't sore…

For the longest time I've been wandering around…maybe a few weeks…though it seemed longer. I remember waking up some place hurting all over…I'd probably been wasted the night before or something…though I can't remember if I drank?...but I'd gone home and found my mother staring at the wall with the strangest look on her face. She wouldn't acknowledge me…we'd never been friends… a-and when I walked up stairs…to my room, there was a single box packed with all my things- I didn't have that many. I almost cried…my mother had kicked me out of the house…I still hadn't finished high school, why would she do that?

I didn't ask her questions though. didn't grab my things-which was a very stupid move. I just left. The whole time she never moved or said a word to me, though I screamed at her, yelled and pitched a fit…when I slammed the door and called her a bitch, she looked around as if she had no idea what I was talking about, she never even made eye contact.

I'll never forget that.

I got up and stretched, looking down. I still had the same clothes-disgusting I know, but they never got dirty, never smelled. It was always cold, so I hardly sweated. Just a plain black shirt and pants. My skin seemed really pale to me, the black clothes didn't help with that.

For the first time I took in my surroundings. It was late afternoon I think, and it was snowing, but I really wasn't cold. There was a cypress tree over me…and poppies beside me. Everywhere I went I saw poppy flowers…they put me on edge though…but why fear a flower?

People were entering the wrought iron gates of the graveyard, they each passed me, yet none of them looked at me. I was used to this though. people were assholes. I blamed it on my appearance, I looked creepy, obscenely pale…weird eyes. I guess humans tended to block out weird things…and ignoring me was part of that. It didn't matter to me one way or another though, I hate people…all they caused was trouble.

I wandered back around to the mausoleum, it was dark inside. The ceiling of it was painted to look like a clock, I was fascinated with this clock. I would stare at it for hours just waiting.

After some time I heard clicking foot steps of shoes on stone. I was quiet, I never made foot steps. They disturb the peace. I jumped behind one of the tombs, not wanting confrontation. The person slowly made his way to the tomb I was hiding behind, so I shifted and stuffed myself farther into the wall. I could still see him though, he had the brightest orange hair I'd ever seen, and stunning chocolate brown eyes. His face looked so sad though…like he was lost, or someone else was lost, and he'd been the one to lose them. That was more likely the case, seeing as he was in a grave site. He held a small red poppy flower and a white rose in his hand. Why take those to a mausoleum? Didn't it make more sense for the flowers to go on the ground?

He laid them down on the tomb, whispering words of sorrow to whoever lay encased in the cement. I leaned back, so I could sit more comfortably, and give him more privacy…he could stay under the illusion that he was alone.

I heard more footsteps after a few minutes, and crawled out of my hiding hole.

"you were listening to me" I knew it was him…I didn't want to look up, but I did anyway.

"not on purpose…I heard someone coming so I hid…" it was the truth. He looked at me like I was retarded.

"why would you hide…in a mausoleum…?"

"heh, uh" I held my finger up, my mouth hanging open…I didn't know how to answer that one. His scowl broke into a grin. He had a nice smile…slightly crooked, and I like it.

More clicking on the stone echoed through the room, more people came down the steps, a woman and her child. They went to the tomb next to the orange haired one's.

"so…are any of your relatives resting here?" he asked. I shook my head no. the woman turned and gave us a funny look. Bitch…albinism is a rare thing…but no need to gawk…or maybe it was his bright hair, who knew. Apparently he noticed the woman's odd look because his eyes narrowed into a scowl. Damn, the smile was much better.

"why don't we go back up." He wanted…to talk to me? I felt special, I immediately accepted, following him up the stairs to the outside world.

"who was it tha's dead?..if can ask…" I didn't mean to be rude…but I was…intrigued by this man…

"my…my mother," oh. Someone he was close to…

"m'sorry…"

"It's not your fault…what's your name?" he…he wanted to know my name? he could be bothered enough to know my name? or did he just want to change the subject…

"Shiro…" he snickered. Yeah, yeah it was funny, an albino named Shiro…

"what's yers?"

"Ichigo…" okay, he had no room to laugh.

"seriously?"

"it's not my fault~!" he finished in a dramatically funny voice. we both laughed. He was funny, and accepting it seemed. I looked him up and down, just picking things out he had one faded and tight blue jeans with holes at the knees, and some uniform school shirt. Around his wrists were a bunch of tied leather and rope bracelets…his fingers ere callused-did he work with his hands?...and he had on white sneakers…well they had been white…

He seemed to be doing the same to me…not that there was much to see…

"what's that necklace?" he came closer to me. What necklace? I don't remember having one… he looked up at me, looking for something, then held his hand out. When I looked down, sure enough there was a silver pendant around my neck…the front of it looked like a clock…with a candle in the center instead of hands. There was a raven carved into it, perched on top of a plain square, the square shinier then the rest of the pendant, with a cracked line down it. on the bottom of it there was a single silver poppy. It was such a detailed thing, how could I not notice it before?

"no idea" I shrugged, answering honestly. I picked it up to study it again, but all the pictures were gone now…leaving a plain silver circle.

"it's nice…"

"thanks…" awkward conversation…I didn't want it to end though…maybe, we could be friends…