The city sounds deathly quiet, the footsteps never coming to a stop and yet no one was to stop the natural order of night as it were now. By night something bad would always happen and there would be no exceptions as to who it would happen to at all. One could have loads of power yet that was rather an open target instead of being off-limits. It didn't seem as if anyone cared what happened in the night though as that was also the time when all would come out for perhaps a good night out with their friends or with someone else. It seemed as if no one would realize that they had stepped, by the time of twilight, into the hands of what it was that actually came out in the dark. There was a soft cry, one from the strangled mouth of a woman, white wings laid bare for all to see as the crying child was stolen from the womb, hands covered in blood, the light slowly fading away from a poor, dim vision of what was soon to become nothing more but death itself. One glance of pure gold irises looking into the dim blue ones before complete darkness. The child was crying for its mother, wanting to remain inside of the womb instead of being ripped out cruelly by these people who had hurt its mother awfully right in front of its eyes and yet it was known that the child would not remember this day as it were.
A pair of exactly similar golden irises opened up onto the dark ceiling above them, my eyes being rubbed a little by the fists of my hands. That was the second time that the dream had come to me and yet it wasn't familiar to me at all. Water slipping down past my throat, the slight tingle of the liquid as it made its way towards its destination. A touch of the table beside the bed, reaching for a notepad and instead knocking both the pen and notepad onto the floor. Dark brown hair spiraled out messily, affected greatly when I had been asleep not so long ago and having that nightmare that always begged for a question of sanity which was perhaps no longer mine. Then again the whole world was insane in its own right. A splash of water against one's face, only to look up into a mirror and see something that I didn't want to see, my own reflection, yellow eyes gleaming brightly at me from underneath the dark brown messy hair, strands clinging to my face. No one would understand the means to be truly different in ways that I couldn't describe to you at all and I assume that when I say "different" you are thinking of the term of perhaps class or even the group that I would have fitted into. Not that I would have cared anyway.
It was morning now, at around 7:30 a.m. to be quite precise and due to last night's dream, I wasn't going to flop back into my bed like I know some people would have. There was just no point in doing that really was there? I had a few things to do anyway this morning, before most likely hanging out for the rest of the day wherever I chose to go. No one could really do anything about that anyway. If someone didn't like me hanging out in a certain area, well...good luck to them, I didn't have the best of tempers after all. People said I should have been dept on a leash, although I did have my reasons. Turning around as I only happened to be wearing my boxer shorts; my fingers traced the two identical slits on my back. They showed that there was definitely something wrong with me, but then everyone had their problems right? I bet they didn't have two slits in their back though...They were also the reason why, at the moment, I was wearing a bell around my neck. My friend Eve had given it me as a present for my nineteenth birthday, but I was pretty sure that she knew that something was going to happen. It wasn't really paranoia that told me that, although I know that it would sound like it to you. It's not okay? I know what it is and it isn't paranoia, trust me on that.
Water ran over me but I didn't really pay much attention to it, the shower cleansing what it could. It was only a morning shower, something to wake me up, followed by possibly as much milk as possible. I was quite crazy about milk, one of the reasons why people used to call me "Black Cat". And there is also the possibility of when you did meet me, something would always happen, something that was bad. I didn't have many friends because of that; there was only Sven, Eve and Rinslet now. Oh and my name, you ask? It's Train Heartnet. I would say please to meet you perhaps but only by seeing you physically sorry. I get edgy over things that I don't know about. You could say it is just a natural reaction for a human being, a male no less (if you couldn't already tell!) I wasn't specifically edgy about today though. It was just a Sunday and nothing more. Nothing good happens on Sundays anyway. That's the way I have always chosen to look at it. Nothing special about them, nothing great, just boring. To show you how boring, I sat out in the kitchen drinking my first bottle of milk and I was finding more satisfaction in doing just that. There was nothing to prove that today was going to be different either so I chose to ignore whatever it was that had brought that up. Nothing was going to happen with my back, no horrible wings were going to come out. No, I was just going to be plain old Train Heartnet for the day once again.
Sadly...I was wrong...
A/N: Sorry this is short but I have never wrote in the first person nor for Black Cat before. Yet this idea has been playing on my mind for a while...so if people like this, I will work on the first real chapter soon. If not...well no flaming me either way okay? Other wise I will just laugh. Also Creed will be coming into it later, I'll switch to third person to show his strange obsession with Train. And sorry for any ooc-ness, as I said, this is the first Black Cat story I am going to write.
