Chapter 1

As I lie on my back staring at the stars, my own blood seeping out from the literal hole in my heart, I can't help but let the tears flow out of my eyes. It wasn't me dying that was making me cry, but it was the thought of everyone else who probably died by now. I was their last hope and I failed. Its just as she said, my own flames would be the cause of my death.

If I'd have known this would have happened, I would've chosen to ignore the shadows and dismiss them as delusional thoughts. If I'd have known this would have happened I would've killed my brother myself.

...

As I sit in Ms. Manoque's office, the principal of Jefferson Stonewall High School ,waiting for her to finish my paperwork and assign me a homeroom, I survey her room. One thing I learned from my 17 years in life is that one can tell a lot about a person from the way they characterize their rooms. It's a medium-sized room without any unruly accessories (meaning she doesn't waste school money on her own personal benefits) and it's fairly organized (meaning she hates untidiness). But the one thing that caught my eye was my own reflection off a body length mirror across the room. This lady cares about appearances... flattery might get me somewhere.

My own appearance is pretty startling. I could see why the lady gives me furtive glances. My tattered skinny-fit jeans, half unbuttoned navy blue shirt with my black tank top and my shark-tooth necklace showing, and my unruly mohawk hair with the sides trimmed short give off the appearance of an unnatural delinquent. Im used to this kind of treatment. I ruled it out as human nature to judge people on appearance since I was a child.

" Mr. Jacob Knox, your grades are surprisingly orderly. But may I ask why you transfer from school to school so many times? New York is very far from Denver. And your report says you transferred a total of four times before that, and thats just since the start of high school."

"Well Ms. Manoque no offense but I don't think thats mandatory for me to say. I simply came to New York and the closest school that the Board of Education assigned was this school. I probably won't even stay here long enough to remember my homeroom teachers name. I don't want to come off as the rude "sport" but ask me a question that is mandatory for me to answer and I will answer it. If not than I have no obligation to speak on my personal history, even if the questioner is a young and attractive woman."

Yup I just said that. All my years of transferring and moving from place to place allowed me to perfect the art of flattery. I realised at a young age that with just a little bit of kind words towards the right direction you can practically say whatever you want. It is plain that Ms. Manoque, a middle-aged woman, is highly perceptive of her looks due to the lofty mirror hanging right by her desk, thus complimenting on her looks negates most of the brusque words that I replied to her.

The slightly abashed but oddly pleased, Ms. Manoque, replies, "Oh... Well im sorry Mr. Knox. I didnt mean to touch upon a bad subject on your first day of 12th grade. But you mustn't talk like that to everyone here. I am not as kind-hearted as the Deans. Your homeroom will be room 221, Mr. Harrison. Good Luck... and I expect to hear good remarks upon your duration here in Jefferson Stonewall."

And with that I took my leave into the wide hallways searching for my homeroom. I was assigned a locker, but since I'm already late I figured I would visit homeroom first. I hate transferring in the middle of the school year. Everyone has their eyes on you. The tough guys pick on you just because your an easy target. The Jocks tend to analyze you for athletic abilities. And the rest of the student body surveys you with great interest, trying to find out what type of person you are. I'm not a downer but getting too friendly with people is bad new for me because I tend to transfer schools pretty fast. The more connections you make the more harder it is to move on. But my philosophy- no my world changed when I met her.