I'm back! This is the first chapter to my new story. It's the story of Victor's son so it may help if you've previously read my story 'Rescuing Rogue' but I don't think it would make too much of a difference.

The image attribution is: By Josh Jensen from Toronto, Ontario, Canada (Ellen Page Uploaded by Tabercil) [CC-BY-SA-2.0 ( /licenses/by-sa/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

I hope you like it! Please review :)

Calypso's POV

'Miss Silver? What is the answer?' Mr Johnson huffed loudly, his hands on his hips. I quickly jump out of my daydream and focus on the algebra on the board.

'Well, Calypso. We're all waiting…' He tapped his foot impatiently. I reluctantly drag my feet to the front of the classroom.

'Loser.' Monica hissed at me as I walk past her. She pushed her bag out from under the table causing me trip and stumble. The class laughs at me; I think I even saw Mr Johnson snigger. Monica was the most popular girl in the school and she's had it in for me since I first moved to this town a couple months back. I know why: it's because I'm evil. Bad things happen when I'm around.

I had already solved the complicated looking sum on the board on the journey up to the front of the classroom. I took the white board pen from under Mr Johnson's glare and wrote down my working on the board and how I got my answer. By the surprised look on his face, I assume I got it right.

'Well…just make sure you listen next time.' He grumbled as I made my way back to my seat, my long dark hair covering my face, trying to stay unnoticed.

'Right then class. I just need to go to the staffroom to get something. I expect you to finish the exercise in your books by the time I get back.' He said, walking out the classroom. Everyone knows that he is actually going to his car to have a cigarette.

As soon as we heard Mr Johnson's footsteps walk down the corridor, the whole class relaxed. Many people moved seats to sit by their friends. I kept my head down and tried to get on with the work, and most importantly, tried to stay out of Monica's attention.

'I bet you thought you were so clever getting that question right, didn't you?' She scorned, coming over to talk to me.

I don't rise to the bait. Just keep working. Maybe she'll get bored and find someone else to bully.

Monica was the girl that all the boys went for. She was blonde and beautiful, with expensive skimpy clothes and an expertly made-up face. She hung around with the popular group which were basically all clones of her.

'Hey! She's talking to you, freak!' Shannon, one of Monica's followers said, grabbing my book and throwing it across the room.

I sighed and looked up. 'What do you want Monica?'

'I want to know what the purpose of your life is. Like seriously…why haven't you killed yourself yet?' She said bluntly, inspecting her nails. I didn't reply.

'Surely you feel guilty after all the things you've done? All those families you have killed. It's unfair that you live and they don't.' Monica continued.

'I didn't kill my family.' I said through gritted teeth.

'Sure…you just keep telling yourself that. You have a good long think when you sit there in your lonely house. Maybe you'll do us all a favour and just die.' She smirked, raising the corner of her red lips just slightly.

I clenched my fists together so hard that the top of my knuckles turned white. Fortunately, Mr Johnson came back into the classroom, just in time to issue us some homework. As soon as the bell rings, signalling the end of school, I grabbed the strap of my worn out backpack and speed walked as fast as I could to get out of that hell hole.

I went straight to the corner shop where I work for an elderly man called Jerry, who hired me because he felt sorry for me. The only person in the whole damn village that felt sorry for me. Everyone else hates me. Cloverdale, where I live, is an extremely religious town where everyone is incredibly superstitious. As soon as I arrived, I was clearly loathed.

I have a little bit of a reputation, you see. Some people are blessed with good fortune and love and others, like me, are cursed with the opposite. People seem to die around me. My first family died before I even started school, then one by one, each of my foster families died until everyone was too afraid to look after me. Bad things happen around me, unexplainable things like moving objects. The people of the town think I am some kind of evil witch, a worshiper of Satan, a murderer.

'Hello Calypso. How was your day?' Jerry smiled as I walked in.

'Same old.' I sighed and he smiled sadly back at me.

'A little birdy told me it was your birthday today.' He smiled and held out a birthday card.

I grinned at him and open the card, the only card I got this birthday. Inside the card there was a crinkled $20 note.

'Thanks Jerry.' I smiled kindly.

I got to work by stacking the shelves and sweeping the floor. A couple of stuck up women come in the shop, glaring at me as they walk past. I just duck my head, and carry on sweeping the floor. At around 5 o'clock, Jerry handed me the keys and told me to lock up the shop when I leave. As soon as he left, I grabbed a bottle of wine from the shelf and put the money in the till.

It's a short walk from the shop to my house. I live alone in a gothic looking, 4 bedroom house on the outskirts of town. 17 years old is a strange age to be living alone but I have special permission from the government. After my third foster family passed away, people started getting suspicious of me. Many foster homes turned me away as they said it was too dangerous for the other orphans to be living with me. In the end, the government allowed me permission to live alone since I had nowhere else to go.

'I'm home!' I called to Mr Bojangles, my cat. Mr Bojangles purred from the stairs. I didn't bother with dinner; I wasn't very hungry. Instead I crack open the bottle of wine, pour myself a large glass, turn on some music and sit back on the sofa with a small knife on my lap. Birthdays were always the worst. My biological family died on my third birthday: a house fire killing my parents and all six of my siblings. I was the only survivor. The best way to forget about the pain was by drinking.

Half a bottle I wine down and things started looking a little differently. They started getting a little blurry and swaying from side to side. A whole bottle of wine and two shots of whiskey- my blood was drowning in alcohol. I started seeing hallucinations. Mr Bojangles started talking to me.

'What are you doing Callie? You know you're not going to kill yourself.' He purred disapprovingly at the knife that lay on my lap.

'I would be doing everyone a favour. Everyone in this goddamn town wants me to be dead.' I slurred to no one.

'What about Jerry? What would he say?' Mr Bojangles said. This is ridiculous! Why is my cat talking in the first place? It was just the alcohol making me see things.

I sighed and tears slipped down my cheeks. 'I'm afraid of dying Mr Bojangles.' I cried.

'Then don't do it, Callie.' He purred.

'But there is so much pain. So much death around me. Why should I live and everyone die?' My words were so slurred that even I wasn't too sure what I said.

I hold the knife against my wrist and make a small, shallow cut. Almost immediately, red blood seeps out my wrists and down my arm. I do the same on the other wrist and watch as the pain leaves my body in the form of crimson, alcohol induced blood.

'Happy birthday to me.' I slurred before the alcohol takes over my brain, knocking me into a deep sleep.