Chapter One

~I was the light, I was the quiet heart. I was the place we used to dwell~

In theory, running is just about as useful as throwing a rock at a bear. Sometimes, the rock is enough, and you can escape free from harm into the loving arms of your family or friends. But other times, you're just going to make it mad.

Every story has a beginning, and mine just so happens to be at the end. The end of my life.

And honestly? I'm glad. My life was never worth anything anyways. I was that girl who sat at the back of the glass, either taking notes or doodling on the sides of my paper. People told her that if she only tried harder, she could make something of her life, but she didn't believe in going out there and making history. She thought the world would come to her.

Except it never did, and she died alone.

But I didn't die alone. I was never alone my whole life. It's just that I never noticed their presence.

They followed me around everywhere, chasing after me as I chased after the bus. Buying groceries with me as I bought groceries. Maybe you think that I have a stalker or a creepy man in his mid thirties wanted to kill me in his basement. But it's quite the opposite, actually.

They weren't actually people who followed me. They were things.

They didn't have bodies, but they could possess one. They didn't have tongues, but they could whisper dirty little evils into my ear. They didn't have legs, but they followed me everywhere. They didn't have eyes or ears, yet they knew my every move and where I was going.

It all started when I was small, when I had my very first near-death experience.

I was in my room one night, when black smoke wafted through my window. Slithering along the ceiling and out the cracks of my door. I hid myself underneath my sheets, drawing them just past my nose, curious as ever, yet terribly afraid. My eyes were wide and bug like, my heart pounding in my chest, but I still got out of bed.

My father was waiting for me outside my door. Except, it wasn't my father. My father had blue eyes which sparkled green in the natural light. This man's eyes were black. And not the crayon color black, either. It was the type of black that represented sin; a stain on the soul. Something so dark, only God himself could lighten it.

This man bent down to my height, smiling, though his eyes showed no joy. "Well, well, well. What do we have here?" He asked me, rubbing his finger along my soft cheeks, "What's your name, darling."

"Victoria." I replied in a soft voice.

This thing made my father smile, and pick me up into his arms. I took one last look at my bedroom, it's robin's egg blue walls were drawing me back. I was confused and frightened. Where was this man taking me? What did he do to Daddy?

"Daddy's not here right now." He sang, reading my mind, "So leave a message at the beep. Beep." He laughed and set me down on the couch. "Now, you just sit here like a good little girl. I'll be right back."

The man went upstairs, where my mother's screams echoed down towards me. My head whipped to the front door, where more black smoke worked it's slithering tentacles toward the sound of the screams. I tilted my head and called to them.

"What are you doing to my Mommy?" I asked, and they chattered among themselves in a language I didn't understand. Some flew past me and up the stairs, others floated in front of my face, circling my head like a dark storm cloud.

'You can see us?' They finally asked, and I nodded. More whispers.

The man came down from upstairs. He had stained Daddy's shirt a dark crimson, and I stared at the blood dripping from his fingers. Mommy had stopped screaming. He looked at the black swirls, then at me, and talked to them in an angry tone.

"What are you waiting for? Find her a home."

'But, Sir. She's special.'

He looked at me, still sitting on the couch, swinging my legs that didn't reach the floor just yet.

"I know."

They sent me to an orphanage; this three story building with moldy bricks and rusty swing-sets. The kids my age were as sinister as the men in my home all those years ago. They lit cats on fire, they beat puppies with sticks. I just sat on the swing, my pig-tails fluttering in the wind, staring at my shoes.

One little boy came up to me, and grabbed my hand, pulling me towards the other kids. I didn't know his name, but I had seen him before. He was the kid who ordered all the other little ones around. I didn't know what to do, so I followed him blindly. He lead me to a little corner on the other side of Miss Sally's Place for Orphans, and looked me in the eyes.

"You're cute." He told me, and I let go of his hand. He grabbed it again, and kissed me. "I like you." He said, and waited for me to say something I never said. I was only six at the time, he was the same age. But, he spoke his words so confidently, it made me feel like I was an adult, and so was me. "I'm going to marry you when I get bigger." He kept saying.

Sooner or later, when I was 13, the place shut down. Every kid got transferred except me and this boy. We were alone together. He had convinced me to never get adopted, but to stay here with him. So I did.

We lived in that place until I turned 25. But we were never alone. The black creatures came and went, telling me where to go, ordering me to do unspeakable things. I think they told the boy things too, because he always knew that same things I did. I thought the boy was special, just like I was.

But I guess not.

They killed him off on my 25th birthday, two days ago, and I couldn't handle it anymore. He had been my first kiss, my first love, the first person who I lost my virginity too. My heart couldn't take it, especially when they said it was my birthday present.

So I ran. I tried so hard to block their words out of my head, but they kept finding me. Saying things like, 'You've got one more chance to come back with us, or you're dead meat.'

I was already dead, though. My heart was fried, and my brain was damaged beyond repair. I couldn't handle their heartless words in my mind, torturing my soul. And that is why my story begins at the end.

It begins with me running for my life. Literally.

My heart is pounding so hard, it echoes loudly in my ears, making me feel like my head is going to explode any second. I want to stop running - to take a well earned breath, but I can't because every time I turn back around, there they are, following me in the shadows. Even when I'm in pure daylight, they always seem to find the darkest of shadows to hide in. Sometimes that means people.

My feet hurt, and my legs are tired. It's getting gradually harder to lift and take another step. Sometimes I wonder if it's them making me think I'm tired, or it's actually me. I can't tell anymore, and that's what keeps me going.

I check one more time, expecting to see them there, laughing as I try to out run them, but they're not there. Not even in people, because I can tell if they're there too. They just vanished, like someone called off the dogs.

My head is still turned around when I run smack into someone. They're tall and strong and hard, which makes me fly backwards, scraping my elbows on to pavement until they begin to bleed. I look up at the man who knocked me down. His face is gentle, but he's very muscled, very redefined. His hair is something else though. He face just peeks through from dark brown hair that frames his face, along with triangular sideburns.

One toned arm reaches out to me, and I stare at it.

"God.. I am so sorry. Are you okay?" He says, and words just keep spilling out of his mouth like a waterfall.

"I-I'm fine." I say, but I'm definitely not fine.

I look up into this man's eyes, and notice the sadness and the grief of many years hidden behind easy green eyes. He drops the bag of groceries and uses both hands to help me up.

"What's your name?" He asks me, and it takes a while for me to remember.

"I'm Victoria. Victoria Woodsley." I say, and get up, brushing off the pebbles and the gravel dust from my top. I don't know why I do, though. I've worn it for two weeks already and it's a tattered mess.

"Well Victoria, you look like you need someplace to stay. I've got a room in this motel a few blocks up, if you want to stay, I promise I'm not some creep." He offers, and I jump at the chance. I sense as though this man can protect me.

"I wouldn't want to impose." I mumble, trying to act humble so that I don't look like some homeless freak.

"No, please. Impose. I don't mind. And neither will my brother." He smiles, and return the gesture.

"Okay then, but you asked for it." I joke, messing around with him. "I'm quite the lousy roommate."

"I can be too." He says, and I laugh. "I'm Sam by the way. Sam Winchester."