Hey everyone! I started writing this story a couple of years ago and I really like the way it's headed now. But, when looking back to my writing style at the beginning of the story I've noticed that it seems a lot more immature and kinda all over the place. So I've decided to re-write it. Don't worry! I'm not going to change anything major or even cut out anything. I'm just going to make it more detailed and the plot/sub-plots more controlled. I hope you all like it.

A Voice

Book One of the Shadow Guardian series

…..

Prologue

You knew me before I knew you.

Although, I suppose I have always known you. You were always there – calling for me, a voice inside my head. You were a phantom, a shadow; ever following me, always watching me and waiting. Waiting for the time I was ready to know you.

And now that we're here I know that you will never let me go.

And I find myself not wanting you to.

…..

A Voice

Dreams are true while they last, and do we not live in dreams?

….

Watching me, wanting me

I can feel you pull me down…

Calling me, hearing me

I won't let you pull me down.

"Abigail."

A voice. A voice calling out to me in the night. The same voice I have always heard since I was a little girl.

"Abigail… Abigail…"

I do not know who it is, or where the voice is coming from. All I know is that it is there, almost every night, calling for me. Whoever it is whispers my name, like a soft caress upon skin. I moan and roll around under my bed covers; trying to ignore it and fall asleep. I have been hearing this disembodied voice saying my name over and over for as long as I could remember. I used to think that there was somebody who cared about me, was always watching over me, like a guardian angel. Now… I'm not so sure.

As I lie in bed, I cannot bring myself to open my eyes, because I know that when I do the voice will leave me. Tonight should not have been any different as I lay there; contemplating whether or not I should stir. Why should tonight of all nights been any different? But then the voice did something it had never done before which made me finally open my eyes. It spoke again.

"Abigail… I am coming."

…..

"Abigail! You're here early today!"

So what? I thought. Shouldn't you be pleased?

I turned by face with the slightest tilt of my chin towards Mr Forester, my form tutor. He gave a nervous chuckle for some reason I cannot fathom.

"You just… don't usually arrive so early on a Monday!" He exclaimed a little breathlessly as I walked into my home room. Not many students were there yet; just the overly keen ones.

"I couldn't sleep" I muttered in reply, and proceeded to take out the contents from my bag. It was true. After the events of last night, when the voice had spoken again, I abruptly bolted upright; my thin, soft duvet covers tangled up in my legs, and my eyes darting around the room frantically. However, as always, no one was there. I could not fall back to sleep after that. My dad was surprised to see me awake so early in the morning. He nearly fell over when found me in the kitchen drinking a coffee and reading my History textbook.

School that day seemed to go by more slowly than usual. I was tired so I did not speak much, but my friends were used to my sudden silent spells. They could tell when I had a lot on my mind that I did not wish to talk about and respected my privacy about it. But sometimes, I just wish one of them would ask. Sometimes, I just felt so alone.

It was only when I was half way through my English lesson, when Mrs Vandervelt was lecturing us on how some poets write about their dreams that I immediately woke up.

"I want all you to write a short poem about a recent dream you had. It can be a sonnet, a haiku, or even free verse. I don't mind. But get started now." Mrs Vandervelt wobbled over to her desk and her stumpy hands grabbed a pen before scribbling further instructions on the classroom board. I could see my fellow classmates groan at the assignment and normally I would have rolled my eyes with them. However, my teacher's talk of dreams reminded me of the soft warning from last night.

I looked down at my note pad and saw that I had entitled my poem: I am coming. A visible shiver went down my spine and my hands fisted. My best friend Gemma, who was sitting next to me, noticed straight away.

"Jeeez man, you okay?"

I slammed my note pad shut and quickly put on a smile.

"Peachy. And yourself?"

That distracted her as she began talking of her new boyfriend Mick throughout all over English. She was still gushing about him as we walked to History. She wanted me to go out with her and meet him as he was picking her up after school. Mick goes to university in America, and is just back for the summer holidays. I declined and told her that it was going to take me ages to get back home and that I had a lot of school work to do, when really, I just wanted some alone time to my thoughts.

I made my way toward to MTR station; Hong Kong's version of the subway. Although, I'm told it is a lot nicer and cleaner than the one in New York. It always takes me ages to get home and I mentally groaned once again at my Dad for moving us away from the beach on Hong Kong island, where all my friends live and where I go to school, to a remote house in the countryside, the outskirts of Hong Kong, right by the border of China. It takes me about three trains to get home, as well as a bus and loads of walking. I guess Dad just wanted to move as far away as possible from the bad memories.

As I sit on the long train ride and glance at the scenery blurring by; melting away from the modern, international city to the leafy green landscape of the rural parts of Hong Kong, I notice a stranger sitting opposite me. And it was not just any stranger staring at me from across the carriage, this one seemed different. He was cloaked all in black. A hard thing to do in Hong Kong's heat and humidity. And he wasn't Chinese. I could tell this by his alabaster hands poking out from beneath his long sleeves. He unnerved me. When I reached my stop I hurried out as fast as I could.

…..

Soon it was Wednesday night; Ladies Night in Wan Chai, one of the main clubbing areas in Hong Kong. The past couple of days have gone by with not much incidents; no voices in the night. Nevertheless, out of the corner of my eye, I have managed to glimpse a black cloaked figure nearby.

I was dancing in our favourite club, the Holloways, with three of my friends, downing glass upon glass of vodka cranberries and I notice Heath Coats eying me across the floor. His dirty blonde hair is scrapped across his face like he's too cool for school, as he makes his way towards me. At the moment I'm not in the mood for another Heath Coats chat up line, so I escape for the ladies bathroom. As per usual there is a huge line down the corridor, and some poor girl is throwing up in the corner. I skip the queue and head towards the sinks. As I look in the mirror I notice that my curly blonde locks are plastered to my face, and my blue eyes are red rimmed and dazed. I'm obviously drunk and need to get home before I find myself like the sick girl down the hall. I say goodbye to my friends, giving them all hugs, and as I do, with a sickeningly plunge to my stomach; I notice yet another black cloaked figure watching me. I immediately noticed him, not because of his attire, but because he was across the dance floor, still like a statue, whilst everyone else around him was moving away with the hypnotic beat of the music. He seemed to be watching me. I quickly departed, and as I made my way towards the exit, the DJ calls over the music "Abigail Ward is leaving the building!" My tan cheeks flush red and I turn towards Ray, the DJ, to give him a wave. I also bump knuckles with the bouncer on the way out. I'm only sixteen, yet living in Hong Kong does have its strong points, such as underage drinking that we easily get away with.

I make my way from the bright neoned streets of Wan Chai toward the MTR. I decided to take a short cut to the station by going down a dark, graffiti walled street between a 7Eleven and a kebab shop.

I stop briefly when I hear a noise behind me.

It was at that moment I finally felt real panic, real fear. Someone was following me. I guess I had been edgy all week since the voice at spoken something different that night. I thought of the black cloaked figures, and then of murderers and rapists. My heart beat crashed in my ears, as I heard the footsteps behind me increase. I guess that was the moment that I began to run. A stupid thing of me to do really as I was never much of an athlete.

I knew it was only minutes, if not seconds, away before whoever, or whatever, it was caught up with me. Suddenly, we collided together as my purser caught me.

I cried out as I made contact with the tarmac.

"Abby! Slow down for Christ's sake! I was shouting at you all the way down the street!" A voice exclaimed eagerly. I was confused by these words as my mind tried to process the situation through the cloudy haze vodka had caused me. The blow on my head from the fall did not help much either. I looked up towards the lanky bulk on top of me.

"Heath? What are you doing? Get off me." I was amazed that my words came out coherently, as well as shocked that he had knocked me over like some kind of attacker.

"Oh Abby, I know this is where you want to be right now."

"Oh, ha ha very funny. Now seriously get off me."

"Hmmm… I'm quite enjoying this position so I rather wouldn't get up, if you don't mind," Heath responded in a husky voice. A sense of dread washed over me. I knew this guy was a sleaze but won't he actually go as far to…? I stopped my wondering thoughts before I lost control to more panic. This hold on my thoughts was not held for long as I felt his lips violently move on top of mine. I honest to God tried to struggle away, but his large hands kept my face in place. At first I wanted his hands off me, but then when he did extract them, he moved them som where totally inappropriate. As his hands roughly grabbed my boobs, I tried to escape more than ever.

"Don't even think about it", he hissed in my ear.

Hard, cold panic took over me as he began slowly moving his hands downwards over my body and over my hips, his thumbs thrusting, grabbing my inner thighs. At that moment I knew what he was about to do, and could no way stop him. This reality stuck in place as I went rigid. Anticipating the moment when he'd force himself more on me. I squeezed my eyes shut.

Suddenly he did stop. I felt his weight leave me, and heard an unexpected gasp escape his lips. When I did open my eyes he was gone. Confused and now sober, I stood up. No one was there. No Heath, no saviour… no one. Now scared and confused more than ever, I quickly made my way home.

…..

As I lay in my bed that night, with my air con on full blast, I began to calm down.

This feeling of calmness continued as I drifted off into oblivion.

Regardless, this calm feeling swiftly left me as I woke up to three spoken words, breathed onto my neck.

"Abigail… I'm here."

…..

At the beginning was a quote from Tennyson and the song lyrics underneath were Haunted by Evanescence. I don't really listen to the band what that song just seems to fit so much with this story.