PREFACE

Don't get me wrong the world is normal, but only to the ones who don't see reality. The actual dangers lurking in this place we call our home, this place we call Earth. Two stories, different as they are alike, connect to the one thing that will bring danger to all, human and non human, mortal and immortal. It will rage on the fight against sworn enemies. But looks can be deceiving because inside, the killer is as much as the bad guy as the good guy. Inside she is different than what you see in front of you, a killer yes, but a monster no. Will the victim see her true self before it's too late, before someone who could've been a great friend is lost in the battle?

BLUE MOUNTAIN

I face the wall closest to my small bed, the only thing left in my barren room. Morning was on the horizon, the sun peaking, I had minutes left. I clung to my bed sheets not wanting to leave, receded the place I called home. I would miss the blazing heat of Miami, because where I would go there was hardly any. The small town of Blue Mountain was under constant change, unlike Miami, it had four seasons year around. It's streets wouldn't be filled with bumper to bumper traffic, pedestrians walking to wherever they needed to go, no, the small streets barely showing under the tree's and nature was deserted. There was nothing to behold in that small town except for one person, a person that my mother couldn't live without, my step father.

Vanessa, my caring, erratic mother was in love with Luis, a classic couple. Luis paid no attention to me; to him I was part of the package deal that came with my mom. He had offered that I should live with my biological father who lived in Connecticut, but I opposed. I wouldn't want to leave my mother, no matter the consequences ever since the divorce my mother had become slightly fragile to pain. My bags were packed, the house empty, all was left were the bare walls and floors. All my memories were held in this small house. With every ounce of my being I got up, for the last time walking in the place I called home. I cursed my mother for marrying Luis, I knew she was happy, but had she had the slightest idea how this would affect me, her seventeen year old daughter. I bet she hadn't thought of it once, who was the one that nurtured her when she was sad, mourning for my father Ryan, me. I had to take care of everything while she moped around in the house.

Anger blazed in my system, but I tamed the flames knowing that my mom was somewhere in this quiet house. I wasn't really a violent person, but at the moment I filled like crushing a wall. I took out the small breakfast wrapped in a paper bag, peanut butter and jelly. I munched the food slowly, washing it down with ice cold milk. My mother soon came afterwards repeating my actions.

"Charlotte"

"Yeah" my tone acidic

"Are you ok, you seem, well tense"

Tense, I screamed in my head, was that how I looked like in the outside, aggravated would be the correct adjective "Tense" I huffed, my impatient growing inside of me "Really"

We left it at that, I wouldn't want her to see my face, because I knew how it looked like. The outside wouldn't look like I was tense anymore. The corners of my lips were etched in a frown, a downturn line; my eyes strained holding back the salty tears. Like my emotions were sucked out of me, drained into nothing, like seeping water, I put on my clothing, not really paying attention to anything else than keeping my emotions in check. I toe my suitcase to the car, ignoring my mom's worried glances; she had already put her suitcases in the trunk, placed nicely on the left side. I stashed my duffle bags and suitcase on the space left for me, waiting for my mother to come.

I fumbled with my ticket, clutching it with my fragile fingers. I knew I would miss my family here, the home which held most of my childhood memories in, the place of blistering heat waves and nonstop summer. There was not one day in which white puffs of soft snow fell from the sky in winter, not one day when an autumn wind wisped in the air, it was Miami and my new home was nothing like that.

"Last call for flight 247, last call for flight 247" a nasally voice said through the speakers

I stepped into the long corridor that led to the airplane with Vanessa, pushing my way to the airplane's door. A bunch of civilians were packed against the metal frame, awaiting comfort inside the vehicle. I waited impatiently as one by one the civilians crowded in, looking frantically for their seats. A variety of nagging children and cranky adults moved their way to the rows, grudgingly settling in their seats. I spread out my small ticket searching for the seat number, 21C, it said in large bold letters.

"I'm 13B, what number are you"

"21C" I grumbled

The plane was a two by three, and sitting in coach wouldn't help the matter. I found out quickly that I would be sharing a row with two complete strangers; it was strange that it hadn't hit me before. I prayed for the passengers to be sitting next to me would not bother me. I sighed when my row was empty. I settled in the window and lay my head on the plastic wall.

"I think that's my seat" a sketchy male voice said

I knew more than saw that whomever the sketchy voice belonged to would be the one sitting next to me. I looked up from my deep brown hair to see a man in his mid thirties, a beard as long as a broom and flab's of fat stretched behind a worn faded red shirt. I almost gagged at the sight of him, he plopped himself right next to me, sighing heavily.

"Good morning" he greeted

"Hi" I muttered

That was pretty much the whole conversation between us, the other passenger, well she was a bigger problem. She walked with her old, withered body to our row.

"Excuse me" she said annoyingly "That's my seat" jabbing her index finger at the old man.

"No mam" he said with his southern accent "This is mine, you see" he showed his ticket to the lady "Twenty one A"

"Sir" she said, mocking his southern accent "21A is the seat next to the hallway, and young lady…" she snitched to me

"Huh" I snapped from my dazed state

"I sit there" she said matter of factually

"Umm…no I sit in 21C, I'm pretty sure that's the window seat"

"Did your parents ever teach you manners, respect your elderly" she huffed "Now get up young lady"

I glared at her annoyingly did she just order me to get up, I didn't remember that Vanessa had sat next to me. She was a stranger; in no world would I ever listen to a stranger, but I knew when to stop a problem.

"Fine"

The man with the long beard scooted to the seat nearest to the hallway, and I shuffled to the middle seat while the old lady made her way to the window seat. What I hated about the middle seat was that you had no arm rests and instead of being between a stranger and a wall you would be between two people you've never met before. I clutched my handbag until the plane lifted off; I had a tendency to feel queasy when rising off the ground. The man seemed to be staring at me intently, probably wondering why I was holding onto my bag so tight.

"If you're going to vomit" the old lady grumbled "Go to the bathroom"

I glared at her for the second time today and watched as she dwindled with something in her hands, my eyes widened "What are you doing" I screeched

"What does it look like I'm doing, turning on my phone"

"No" I screamed a little bit louder than I was supposed to "You'll kill us"

"Teenagers" she laughed "They think they know everything"

I watched as the plane was getting ready to lift off, we weren't supposed to turn on our phones when we were lifting off, didn't this lady know that.

"Miss" a flight attendant said "All cell phones must be off"

"I'm sorry, I asked this young lady and she said it was fine to use it" she pointed at me

I gaped at the stranger; my mouth dropping open. She was blaming it on me, what a shrewd liar. The old man seemed to be surprised at this too; he clearly heard our conversation a couple of seconds ago. The flight attendant walked away, eyeing me curiously like I was some crazed lunatic. I decided not to confront this problem because knowing this lady for about ten minutes she would make another problem out of it, but I didn't have to.

"Look lady that wasn't nice" the old man said

"Nice…I don't care for nice, that is a word not in my vocabulary" she was now shuffling in her disgustingly tattered purse

"Well than look it up, because blaming it on a young girl isn't very kind at all, it's actually cruel"

"Well to bad, I don't understand though why you are standing up for her; I don't suppose you know here"

I just sat there like a duck, flabbergasted at their conversation. My eyes flashed to the old man, he was fuming red now. "Well that's none… none of your business now is it?" his eyes turned glassy for a second, I swore that I say a tear trickling down his check, the old lady saw it to

"Are you crying" she laughed

Supposedly this old man was crying for his dead family. He had sobbed to us that he lost his daughter and his wife in a snowstorm in Toronto. He had moved to Miami a month after the accident, but he quoted "Every day I looked out of my window, I missed my home". So now he was moving back to Toronto, and all the while the old lady was making snappy comments about how perfect her life was, and that his was a complete waste.

"I don't believe a word of it" she whispered to me, when the man had left to the bathroom "Lunatic, probably under drugs or something.

Was this lady PMSing or something, because she was really being a vulgar old woman, I didn't say a word of my thoughts.

"Well I believe him" I huffed "If you don't than that's you r problem"

When the old man got back, he continued to sob and mourn for his family, wailing uncontrollably as if he didn't care that he was in a compact plane where everyone could hear him. Several flight attendants had come to calm him down, but he never stopped crying.

"Sir, could you please stop crying no one cares about you so please"

That was the last point that that old man could hold any longer, he exploded into a full out screaming explosion. Slipping out profanities, screaming about how disrespectful and offensive she was, and that she was the one that needed to shut up and stop making comments about everything she heard. And well, that was pretty much my flight to Blue Mountain, Canada.