Chapter 1: The World is a Dark and Lonely Place
"Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish its sources. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of withering, of tarnishing." Anaïs Nin
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The sun rose in the sky and Percy continued to slumber, his worried expression notwithstanding. Despite this, his hand had outstretched to grip the side of the desk next to the bed, before he suddenly jerked to the side as the alarm went off, tired eyes widening as he hurriedly and drearily scanned his surroundings. He tore himself from the bed with renewed vigor and stalked for the mirror, looking over himself tediously for any sign of a blemish on his youthful visage. "Percy, you're going to be late!" The voice of his mother, Sally Jackson, sounded out with bemusement and irritation. Percy froze, before quickly slipping on his jeans and a T-shirt with speed that lacked much grace, moving down the stairs to make his prompt departure alongside his mother.
In the car, Sally asked her son fondly. "How do you think your next year of school will go, Percy?" Percy made no immediate response, staring out forlornly at Goode High before he responded. "The same as any year, mom." The bell rang, and Percy opened the door. "I love you, honey." Sally murmured kindly to him, before Percy had with some finality made his choice and slung his backpack over his shoulder and pivoted, saying. "I love you too mom, be safe." He ran as fast as he could, rushing for room C-03 as fast as he could.
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"As the night falls, there is not much to dwell on but regret."
Sally had a cold feeling in the pit of her stomach, some sensation she could not shake off no matter how hard she tried. A pervasive feeling, one she had not felt since she was in the presence of Jordan. She came to a halt in the parking garage, staring simply for the ominous figure in front of her, the reflection of her youth - and she only smiled. And from within the confines of the apparition's torso came the relief of a knife across the throat.
The fiend's lips had twisted into a cruel smile, for all mortals did was in vain, death always claimed them in the end. In this case, Death claimed His bride.