Song of the chapter: "Howling" by RX Y.

Chapter One - The First

"It was one of those dewy, clear, starry nights, oppressing our spirit, crushing our pride, by the brilliant evidence of the awful loneliness, of the hopeless obscure insignificance of our globe lost in the splendid revelation of a glittering, soulless universe . . ."

A creamy, golden-hued sunset had just painted the sky with its warm embrace when they found the first body.

Swinging gently in the wind from the branch of an old, burly oak tree, the girl could not have been more than 20 years old. Her chestnut-brown tresses, ragged as though she had cut them herself with the same razor she'd used to create the scars on her wrists, were as limp and lifeless as her glassy emerald eyes. The scream that had pierced the forest when her sister found her still hung heavy in the air, rustling through the leafy foliage overhead and disturbing the birds into chirping anxiously. The police were called, firemen arriving simultaneously to cut her down, but the sister's statement couldn't be understood through her hysterical sobs.

A crowd slowly grew over the hours, bringing with it news cameras and questions.

Why had the girl chosen to leave the world in this manner? Why had she chosen two methods of doing so, blade and noose? What could possibly have caused her to believe there was no other way out? Who had hurt her? Who had caused her to believe she wasn't worth this life?

Questions, questions, and no answers in sight.

She hadn't left a note.

We all remember that day as the "beginning of the end," so to speak. August 29th, 2017. The Summer was dwindling down to the last vestiges of freedom, when children stay out until the darkness sets in, if only to have just a few more moments before they have to return to homework and lectures. A new senator - my father - had just been elected into office over the whole state, and not all of the islands were in agreement over his policies. The police were running around unchecked, shooting first and asking questions later. Most of the kids in my university were on the newest drug, Way to Dawn, a drug so new that no one knew if the euphoria it provided caused lasting health concerns or not. The classes were divided: the rich lived on the north side of the island and the poor lived on the south side, and wherever the two crossed, the amount of crimes increased.

Things were not okay on Destiny Islands, and they were only about to get worse.

xxx

I stood on the scale, watching the black arrow moving wildly as I stepped onto it. I dissected the number to make it easier for my mind to comprehend. Because seeing it as 10 pounds times 10 more felt a lot better than seeing it as 100. Even so, it wasn't enough to placate me. Because when I thought about how I hadn't eaten since yesterday, the number should have been lower.

Stepping off the scale, I immediately stepped back on.

100.

My frown deepened, and I glanced at myself in the mirror briefly as if to match my appearance to the number. I got back on.

100.

Running my fingers through my shoulder-length crimson hair, I tried to remain calm. I peeled off my sundress, hoping it would change the number.

99.9

A smile split the dark expression on my face and I almost instantly felt lighter. I turned to the notebook I had placed on the bathroom counter and wrote the number down next to today's date. My eyes scanned the previous day's numbers. I was steadily losing, although there were a couple of weeks where my body had freaked out and maintained the same weight. I was definitely glad it was back to normal.

I closed the notebook and put it into the top drawer. Then, I took the pencil and went to my desk to start working on my homework.

The intercom speaker in my room clicked on.

"Kairi, can you come downstairs, please."

The words seemed harmless, but I knew they were a mask. Somehow, in some way, I had done something wrong. I set my pencil down and stood up from my Summer coursework, wondering what I could possibly have done this time, and I headed out into the marble-floored hallway. My feet slapped against the cold stone as I headed for the grand staircase, and I tried to ignore the scars on my back that itched with a mixture of dread and defiance.

No sooner than my toes had brushed the landing at the base of the stairs, my father's voice drifted lazily from the left, the sound traveling up to the vaulted ceilings and echoing back down to my ears. I hesitated. Half of me knew I was innocent of whatever he thought I had done, me being the most well-mannered 21-year-old on the entire island. But my other half protested, knowing it was no use trying to stand up for myself. I had heard it in his tone: I had definitely broken some rule.

"In my office," I heard my father say.

I entered the office, slowly pushing the heavy mahogany double doors inward. My feet went from cold marble to plush maroon carpet and I walked across the large room with feigned courage lighting my cerulean eyes.

"Father," I greeted, keeping my gaze lowered.

Silence was his response, save for the sound of him flipping through the newspaper with leisure. I stood there like a dutiful daughter, waiting for twenty minutes while he took his sweet time, and I remained calm. I wiped any curiosity or desire to look up from my mind. I knew that it was better to keep quiet, wait for my punishment, and then I could go back up to my room.

Finally, he set the paper down and I heard him sigh. I felt his eyes boring holes into me, but still, I dared not lift mine.

"Tell me why your best friend is front page news," he said curtly.

My brow furrowed and human reactions won out.

"Olette?" I blurted out, gazing upon my father's bronze skin in confusion. "Why would she be in the paper?"

He folded his hands on his desk and raised his silver brows at me. He said nothing, choosing instead to push the paper across the desk, indicating that he wanted me to look at it. I rushed to cross the distance, snatching the paper up.

As soon as I read the headline, I wished I hadn't.

Teen Suicide Raises Questions. The body of 20-year-old Olette Railway was found at the edge of Oblivion Woods. She . . .

The paper fell through my trembling fingers and drifted gently to the floor, a direct contrast to the storm that rumbled through my entire body. My heart felt like it was being squeezed into a tiny box as black shadows cascaded in at the edges of my vision. I sank to the carpet, touching the photo the Destiny Islands Tribune had chosen to print - the photo of us at our graduation two years ago, throwing our hats up into the air and smiling. Smiling, because we were young, hopeful, and ready to grow up.

My father rose from his chair and came around to my place on the carpet, kneeling down beside me. I felt his hand on my shoulder and on instinct, I flinched. His other hand touched my chin and turned my face up to look at his. His sunset-colored eyes were void of anger, a rarity that I'd likely not see again for a while.

"She didn't leave a note," he said, his voice quiet.

My vision blurred with tears and I whimpered, "Why?"

He shook his head. Of course he didn't know. How could he? And how could I not have seen the signs?

I closed my eyes, tears leaking out from beneath my dark lashes, and remembered Olette as I last saw her.

"You excited for Fall term to start?" was her last text to me, and I hadn't replied. I hadn't replied for selfish reasons - because she had been on Way to Dawn for the entire Summer, had failed her classes, and was still happy. Meanwhile, I had been suffering. Suffering my father's wrath at every turn; suffering my own high standards for myself; suffering my eternal hunger as I constantly chose perfection over food. Suffering my jealousy at her happiness compared to my misery.

And now she was dead.

I was too upset to stiffen at my father's touch. He embraced me wholly, and in my distress I melted against his form. The sobs that wracked my body fueled my spiral into despair, and every fiber in my being ached. I threw my arms around my father's neck and wept into the lapel of his Armani, wailing aloud. In my mind's eyes, I saw Olette's smile.

". . . I hate such skies."

- Conrad J. Chance: A Tale in Two Parts. 1914


A/N: I think it's safe to say I abandoned my other stories. . I'm really sorry, but they all just have so many flaws that I can't finish them right now, I may rewrite them later, but for now, they are all suspended.

Anyway, the premise of this story was inspired by the suicides in Bridgend, in the UK. I know the articles and movies don't tell the whole truth, so this story will be only loosely based on that. I don't intend to dredge up painful memories for anyone, so please avoid this story if this will trigger you.

This story will have heavy subject matter and will be highly rated M. Not only will there be drugs, alcohol, cussing, suicide, self-harm, eating disorders, and matters of the occult, but there will also be a heavy amount of physical and sexual abuse as well. Please avoid this story if you cannot handle it. Also, do be aware that the eating disorder in this story will be REALISTIC. I have suffered from one for 7 years now, so I write about it as a form of self-therapy. Don't expect it to be glamorized or easy to stomach (pun not intended). It will be gritty, and oftentimes gross.

Sorry for the chapter being short, it's more of a prologue.