Chapter One: Ross

Jaunary 1th, 2010

The first chapter. I hope you like it...

Edit:

My friend and I have decided to start to redo this as an attempt to gain back my writing skill, and it has worked. Expect more chapters, and please tell me if I have done something you don't understand or had spelled something wrong.

Edited on: January 5, 2014

The sky was cloudy, a typical day in the dark abyss that hundreds lived in. Lightning struck, followed by deadly quiet outside. One particular man, a man with dark eyes, glared at the sky, daring it to remind him of the freedom it possessed. It could go anywhere, everywhere that he was forced away from, leaving the man stuck inside the prison he called home. The thunder was still echoing inside the walls where his tormenting continued endlessly, never stopping. He already started to feel his entire being disintegrating, the agonizing feeling of being erased, forgotten. The catch was this time it wasn't being forgotten that was killing him, it was his lack of power, his lack of life.

The man with eyes growing darker that matched his even blacker heart lived in an old museum along with his cellmates. Anyone who lived in the town or who was a tourist that was passing by and unluckily decided to look in it's direction was revolted. The unfortunate that looked would first see the grass, so dry and dead one might assume that instead of constant rain in the small town of Charlesville there was constant sun sucking the life from the plants. Then the humans eyes would travel up the massive stairway, with cracks and pieces missing that led from the bottom of the hill to the top, a hill that fit the definition of mountain more than a hill.

Finally, when eyes were squinted and strained the outlined of a museum towered in the sky. To anyone who ever got close, only the ones that went missing in the dead of night had that misfortune, they could see the levels of the gigantic museum that must be seven stories high. The first layer was made of wax, the kind that looked so old and eroded it should crumble any moment. Once it was a skin color, now white with hints of yellow peaking out from the depths of the scratches. Twenty windows with a huge, rotating door was the only normal thing a person could define the building as a museum.

The middle section was the most complex, the left side made of metal and marble and the right of brick, wood, and moss growing from the cracks. In the middle of the two sections were many materials that are not found in the earth, but in the depths of hell. All the middle floor looked burnt, black spots in many places, sometimes consuming entire sections. Despite the appearance, ice clung to each bump and missing stone. Ten windows and three balcony's where on this floor. Two of the balcony's where broken, pieces hanging down dangerously, threatening to fall down at a moments notice and kill any intruders.

The last and final floor was so high in the sky, only the unlucky things that lived in it could tell what it was made of. Glass, clear but durable was so high in the sky it touched the lowest clouds. Small, microscopic cracks and weak spots from the hail and cold temperatures had started appearing, growing bigger with each storm. The town had always wondered why the old museum never fell apart and save them the time from tearing it down when the court approved it. The man almost showed the briefest sign of emotion besides rage as he thought of how the courts files vanished each time the trial was set.

He almost wished that they would tear the place down, maybe it would destroy them before the lack of life did. The man lived with many creatures, him self being one. Each one had been condemned to the same fate as he had. To die from the lack of life humans gave them. He was one of the lucky ones. If his luck prevailed he could be free, and he could be granted more life, making his it expand with each and every soul he took. He always returned though, they always forgot. One day he knew they would burn all evidence of him, leaving the man to rot with only a small hope that one day it would return to them he would die for good.

The man looked out the blinds of the first level in the museum. His dead heart froze, his eyes growing wide as he felt it, as life called out to him. "The one" his deep voice whispered, echoing off of the silence in the room. It came home.

"Freezing", a young woman mumbled to her self as rain pored off of her. Her green eyes briefly closed but she forced them open again. Why did it have to rain now? Biting her lip she gripped her back pack with the strength she had left to prevent it from falling again and dragging on the pavement. Freezing to death didn't help her be any stronger.

She hoped that they let her use a drier. A part of her hoped that they didn't. After all the terrible things she had done, she deserved nothing but to get hit by a buss. Looking at the empty road in front of her she guessed that even standing in the middle of the road didn't help her chances of that. Her curse was to live, and mess up what ever happiness fate threw her way. It was always stolen, and never lasted long.

Her mind began to wonder, daydreaming being a skill of survival in her world. Thinking was better than remembering, and remembering was depressing enough to drive a good person crazy. Ross had seen to many die from the inability to move on and forget the horrors of the life they faced. They would scream, claw there faces, hands and what ever else they could do to end it. She only tried it once, and never had the chance to again. They where the lucky ones.

Ross knew that she it better than many. She wasn't starving, had never been abused in any way, or was remotely harmed when it wasn't her fault. It was the things she did that made her wish for death. Everywhere she went, someone died. She first noticed it with her pets. It was her bunny she got for her sixth birthday, she remembered the snow white fur was covered in blood, then her pet dog Fifif, who had a knife in his chest when they found him, and finally her gold fish who died after bleach replaced it's water when it was decided she wasn't allowed any more pets. It didn't stop the death for long.

Memories of her parents dead bodies filled her mind, and a numbing sensation took over. It was her fault they died. She remembered blood, screams, and a little voice telling her it was okay. It wasn't okay. It was her fault they died. She could have fought harder, protected them from the deep, evil voice that was talking to her. This was the reason she hated her self. She could have done anything, anything but let them die.

She blinked, not letting her mind go down that path, not when this was going to be a new beginning for her. She thought of next June, which was a few weeks away. The image of a small one room apartment filled her mind. Four walls and a roof was hard to afford, but it was better than now, relying on the kindness, or greed, of strangers to give her anything to survive. The only thing keeping her from running away was the money the state would give her. Three hundred dollars.

To any child with a loving home and parents would laugh at the amount, but after being an kid who had lived in three houses in the past years Ross Tolor knew the money would save her from being found in a few weeks. If someone dies, or anything bad happens she already had the plan to run with or without the money. She didn't know where, but she would. If she didn't die from when karma is finally done punishing her, she would be safe. Not deserving it, but alive.

She was knocked out of her day dream by cold rain dropping in her eye. Blinking she looked at the mail box and the wet piece of paperer in her hand. Glancing at the three story house with a red door she matched the address. 4038 Ghormley Road Ohio. The roof looked like it was about to cave in, and a rocking chair was on the porch. Maybe she was lucky for once. This was her new home. Sighing she looked at a woman who was putting up close on the close line. She briefly thought of the rain but said nothing. "Hey!", she shouted at the woman trying to get her attention.

The woman was fat with long red hair and had overalls on. Walking closer she could see that it must have been died from the amount of grey hair peaking out. Having no bra on in rain told her that this woman was hard with her money, and a hooked nose didn't help her appearance. If she was still a child she would be afraid of this woman who looked more like a witch than a human but Ross knew better. The good looking ones could be the most terrifying.

The redheads eyes narrowed and spoke in a hateful voice, "You my new girl?" Biting her lip in nervousness Ross nodded. "Go up the stairs, three doors to the left is your room." With that the woman continued her work. Ross could guess the woman was in it for money by her attitude.

Ross walked in, surveying the room. Every thing was grey. The carpet was grey, the walls where grey, and even the chairs and couches where grey. The only thing with any color was the television that was a cherry color. She walked to the stairs, meting the glare of a redheaded girl sitting on the couch eating popcorn. She disliked the girl already.

She didn't even need to remember what the woman said to know where she needed to go. Giggles and whispered chatting came from the third room to the left, with door wide opened. Pausing before she entered the door way she breathed in, then breathed out. This had to work out. She may have not deserved to be here, but anything was better than where she lived before. No one deserved that, not even a murderer.

When she opened the door, she seen a girl and a boy in the same bed, but not romantically. The boy had his legs Indian style, and was wearing a pink shirt, with skinny jeans. Their was no doubt to her mind that he was transgender from his style. The girl had long hair, and had a purple shirt. She had pajama shorts on, and was very tan. They both had long curly blond hair. They could have been twins. Two bunk bed where in the room, one on the left, where the boy and girl where and one on the right that was empty.

"You're the new girl, right?", the boy spoke in a voice that was meant to sound like a girls. At least was nice, "I hope you don't mind sharing a room. You can choose any bunk on the right side"

"I don't mind" Ross said. She did really mind, because of her fear of heights she was glad she got the bottom bunk. She walked over to the bunks when the girl caught her attention.

The blond girl spoke up after popping her bubble gum, "Miss Smith wont let us in another room or you could have this one to your self. Sammy sleeps in the top bunk." The lack of anything but anger reminded her of the old woman, Miss. Smith voice. Great new start she thought.

Ross faked a smile, "The bottom bunk it is then." She put her stuff down on the bottom bunk. All she owned was the paper in her hand and a suitcase, with one or two pairs of close and a small wooden box. She knew that most girls had a lot more, but she isn't like other girls, with their cheerful lives, and perfect family's. She knew that some had it worse, though and tried to think positive. At least she gets a bed here and was alive, but then again that would only be karma. Ross closed her eyes after she lied down. She slept in the bottom bunk, not caring to listen to their conversation even if it was about her. It was no use.

As she closed her eyes, all she dreamed was black and nothingness. Nothingness was a blessing some times. She was grateful, at least it wasn't one of her nightmares again. The nightmares where a deep, demonic calls to her, and how she was happy when he did. Happiness that her parents died covered in blood but the voice hadn't left her, because blood is life, and the one who has it, has the power. She didn't know that this was only her beginners luck from the absence of the nightmares, because this was the start of hell.