(Warning: This is rated M for a reason. This story has explicit language, a suicide attempt, kidnapping, implied sexual assaults, sexual content and minor innuendos. You have been warned.)

"Ngh..."

I woke up on the cold wet ground. I looked at my surroundings. It was raining pretty hard. Where... am I? I thought, looking around with my blood red eyes. Wh... What's happening? I could see and hear the leaves in the trees shaking wildly. I heard loud rumbling. I finally realized that I was trapped in a storm. "What the...?" I muttered as I stood up, wondering how I got here. I saw a bright light. I had to cover my eyes because it was so damn bright. It took about a minute for my eyes to adjust to the light, but when they saw, I realized what I was looking at was the light. "Ah... the lighthouse... I'll be safe in there!" I said to myself, slowly walking to the lighthouse. Ahead, I saw the biggest tornado I have ever seen. "Jesus Christ..." I looked to my left. I looked at the map to my town, but most of it was covered by a ripped banner that said "Blackwell - 1910." I heard a loud rumble, causing me to flinch. I almost fell down. No. No wasting time. I need to get to the lighthouse... I walked closer and closer to the lighthouse. I took another look at the huge ass tornado. A large piece of rubble came and hit the lighthouse. A broken part of the lighthouse came falling toward me. "Shit... shit!" I swore as the broken lighthouse piece fell down on me.

Ah! I woke up in my classroom. I quickly looked around. That was... what the hell was that? ... It... It felt so freakin' real... I thought as my photography teacher, Mark Jefferson, explained something about Alfred Hitchcock. Okay, okay... I'm fine... I'm just in class... calm down, Jace... I thought, running my hand through my neatly combed black hair and feeling the small spiky part of my hair sticking out to the side. Oh, right. I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Jason Wolfe. But I prefer to be called Jace. I'm an 18 year old photography student at Blackwell Academy. You see, I've yearned to be a famous photographer, just like Mr. Jefferson.

"These pieces of time can frame us in our glory and our sorrow; from light to shadow; from color to chiaroscuro..." Mr. Jefferson said. As he was saying this, a girl threw a balled up piece of paper at a dirty blonde-haired girl's face, causing said girl to flinch and cover her face with her hand. That dirty blonde-haired girl is one of my closest friends, Kate Marsh. She's one of the sweetest people I've ever know. But, recently, she's being harassed over a viral video of her at a party, kissing random strangers. There's no way Kate would do that. There's just no way...

As Mr. Jefferson kept talking, the phone of the blonde-haired Victoria Chase, the Queen Bitch of Blackwell, rang. At least she had the decency to put it on silent. I shook my head slightly, focusing back on my "dream."

Okay, I know for a fact that I didn't fall asleep, and that didn't feel like a dream at all. Hmm... I thought as the Queen Bitch answered Mr. Jefferson's question. I looked at my desk to see my papers, journal, camera, pencil case, and my pictures. I looked at one in particular: a picture of the back of my head. I was facing toward the many photos on my wall. Look at this shit. I can't show this to Mr. Jefferson. *sigh* As I looked at my photo, I heard Mr. Jefferson say, "Seriously though, I could frame any one of you in a dark corner, and capture you in a moment of desperation."

As Mr. Jefferson kept explaining, I got an idea. Alright. Selfie time. I very slowly grabbed my camera, I slowly brought it under the table so that no one saw it, and took a quick picture of myself. What I didn't count on was Mr. Jefferson busting me.

"I believe Jace has taken what you kids call a "selfie"... A dumb word for a wonderful photographic tradition..."

Damn. Busted. I thought, putting my camera back.

"... And Jace has a gift." That got my attention. Mr. Jefferson began explaining more about self-portraits. Then he looked at me. "Now, Jace, since you've captured our interest and clearly want to join the conversation, can you please tell us the name of the process that gave birth to the first self-portraits?

... Crap. I don't know this. "W-Well... I did know, but-"

"You either know this or you don't, Jace!" Well, that made me flinch. Victoria answered Mr. Jefferson's question by saying that it was Louis Daguerre, who was a French painter, as she also said that he created daguerreotypes. Mr. Jefferson congratulated Victoria as she smirks at me. I merely rolled my eyes. After Mr. Jefferson explained the Daguerreian Process, the bell rang.

"Alright. Students, don't forget to submit a photo in the Everyday Heroes contest. I'll fly out with the winner to San Francisco where you'll be honored and celebrated by the art world. Remember, this could kickstart a career in photography. Oh, and yes, Jace, I can see you pretending not to see me." Mr. Jefferson said as the students began to leave the class.

Damn it. I thought as I got up. I saw Kate with her hands on her hand. I walked toward her. "Hey Kate."

Kate looked up at me and smiled. "Oh, hi Jace."

"You've been... quiet today."

"Just... thinking..." Kate said.

"Same here. So, wanna grab a cup of tea and talk?" I asked.

"Sorry, not today. I have a lot of homework today. Thanks for the offer, though." Kate answered.

"No problem. How about we hang out later?"

"Sure. I'd love to." Kate smiled.

"I know you have a lot on your mind, so I'll let you be. See you later, Kate"

"See you later, Jace." Kate said. I could've sworn I saw the slightest tint of red on her cheeks when she looked at me... Nah, I must be imagining things. I looked at the paper ball and picked it up. I opened it up. It said, "Dear Kate, we love your porn video. XOXO Blackwell Academy."

Ugh... people can be such assholes these days. Now I wish I hadn't read this... I crumbled up the paper and threw it in the trash. I took a quick look at Kate's drawing. It was a noose on a tree. Shit... Kate, I seriously hope you don't do anything drastic... I thought worriedly. I walked toward Mr. Jefferson. Victoria was talking with him, bending over. Damn... Victoria's crush is so obvious, I actually feel bad. "Mr. Jefferson, may I talk to you for a second?"

"Hey, excuse you, Jace." Victoria said, her tone full of spite.

"No, excuse us, Victoria." Mr. Jefferson said.

Ha! Take that, bitch. I thought, smirking slightly.

"Anyway. Jace, there is no way I would let one of the future stars of photography avoid handing in their picture." Mr. Jefferson told me.

"Do I have to? I just don't think it's that important..."

"Jace, you're better at photography than lying... look, I know it's boring to hear an old dude lecture you, but the world won't wait for you to play catch-up. You're young, you have all the time in the world, blah blah blah, right? But, like I said earlier, you have a gift, a fever to take images, the ability to frame the world the way you see it. You just need the courage to share that gift. That's exactly what separates the artist from the amateur. Do you understand, Jace?"

"... Yes, Mr. Jefferson." I said.

"Good. Hope you have a nice day, Jace."

"Thank you." I said, leaving the classroom. The instant I did, the chattering of many students filled my ears. I sighed softly. Welcome to the real world... I looked at all of the students. I decided that I need some time in the bathroom, so I put my earphones and began heading to the Men's Bathroom while listening to my music and drowning out the talking students, my hands in the pockets of my black jeans. As I was walking, I took a look at one of the many mission person posters. Apparently, the missing person was a 19 year old girl named Rachel Amber, who went missing on Monday, April 22, 2013. These posters are popping up everywhere. I wonder who's posting them...

I shook my head, deciding to stop reading the poster and head to the bathroom. I went into the bathroom. Empty. Good. I stopped my music, took out my earphones and put them back in my bag. The picture I criticized earlier fell out. I picked it up and remembered Mr. Jefferson's words earlier. Perhaps... I could enter it into the contest? I thought about it a little more. ... You know what? Fuck it. I ripped the photo and threw it to the ground. I turned the faucet on and washed my face. As I wiped my face, I saw a beautiful blue butterfly. It landed on the rim of a bucket. "Huh... that's... a really pretty butterfly." I quickly took out my camera. There's no way I'm missing this shot. I readied my camera and took a picture of the butterfly. The photo came out and I looked at it. It looked great. Maybe I should enter this picture into the contest... As the butterfly flew away, I heard the door open. Since I was at the end of the bathroom and behind all of the stalls, I peeked from the wall. The person who came in was Nathan Prescott, or as I like to call him, Nathan Prickscott. He seemed panicked. He looked around a bit, then leaned toward the faucets.

"It's cool, Nathan... Don't stress... You're okay, bro. Just count to three..." Nathan said, panting heavily. "Don't be scared... You fucking own this school... If I wanted, I could blow it up... You're the boss..." After he said that, the door opened again. This time, it was a girl with blue eyes, blue hair and a dark blue beanie, as well as a black jacket that slightly resembled my white jacket, a white shirt with a skull on it, blue jeans, black boots, and a necklace with three bullets. Nathan didn't even look at her. "So what do you want?"

"Hope you checked the perimeter, as my step-ass would say. Now, let's talk bidness." The girl said, looking at each stall.

"I have nothing for you." The brown-haired boy replied in a dark tone.

"Bullshit. You got hella cash."

"That's my family, dumbass. Not me." Nathan corrected.

"Oh boo hoo, poor little rich kid. I know you've been pumping drugs and shit to kids 'round here." The bluenette got all up into Nathan's face, not giving a damn about his personal space. "I bet your family would help me out if I went to them. Man, I can see the headlines now..."

Damn. Savage. I thought.

"Leave them out of this, bitch!" Nathan said in a pissed off tone. The girl pushed Nathan.

"I can tell everyone that Nathan Prescott is a punk ass who begs like a little girl and talks to himself-" The girl started, but then Nathan brought out a gun.

"You don't know who the fuck I am, or who you're fuckin' messing with!" Nathan exclaimed, pointing the gun right at her.

The girl's expression quickly turned fearful and, believe me, I don't blame her. Someone having a gun and pointing it right at you would be terrifying as hell. "Wh-Where'd you get that? What are you doing? C-Come on, put that thing down!" She begged as Nathan pinned her to the wall, the girl trying to push his gun-holding hand away.

"Don't tell me what to do! I'm so fucking SICK of people trying to FUCKING CONTROL ME!"

"You're gonna get in more trouble for this than drugs!" The bluenette said, struggling to break free from Nathan's grasp.

"Nobody would ever even miss your punk ass, now would they!?" Nathan yelled.

"Get that gun away from me, you PSYCHO!" She shouted as she pushed Nathan away. Unfortunately, Nathan fired, shooting the girl right in her stomach.

NO! I reached out with my hand. Suddenly, everything around me slowed down. The girl began falling to the ground slowly. Nathan dropped the gun and, of course, the gun fell slowly. Wh... What the...? Then, suddenly...

Everything rewound.

(A/N: And that ends part 1 of Chapter 1: Chrysalis. Hope you're enjoying the story so far. If you have any problems with it so far and you want me to fix it, than tell me so I can fix it and make this story as good as possible. See you in part 2!)