Chapter 1
Story
I sat on the ground, drenched in the rain that was falling around me. My long black hair was streaming onto my already soaked black jeans. I should have worn water proof mascara, because it too was sliding down my pale white face. I caught myself scratching at the silver scars that were scattered about my arms. It hurt so much sometimes. I chastised myself. I couldn't start again. I wouldn't start again. The ground I sat on slowly became muddy, so I stood up and made my way over to an inhabited park that no one seemed to go to ever. Maybe it was the graffiti and the sexual innuendos that littered the equipment that made moms shudder and keep their kids at bay. But, I had taken this place as my own. I sat down on an old squeaky swing and rocked gently back and forth. The street lights in the distance flickered for a minute before actually coming on. I could hear the hum of the electricity.
The rain started to pour harder and louder. I wondered to myself if my dad had realized I was gone yet. Probably not, I decided. He was probably to angry and drunk to notice anything. But, I couldn't blame him. The death of my mother and older brother hit us both pretty hard. I think he likes to blame me for it, because I was in the car when it happened. But, I was seated in the back seat of the car when the drunken truck driver smashed the front half of the car, killing them immediately. The truck driver was put in jail for twenty-five years on account of vehicular man slaughter. I ran my fingers over the scar on my forehead that I had resorted to hiding with my side bangs. That was the only injury I had. And so, since I lived, it only made sense that it was my fault. The more my father said it, the more I started to believe it.
I started to swing higher and higher, the metal groaning under my weight. I got as high as I could and closed my eyes. I could feel the cold wind biting at my nose as the rain slapped my cheeks. Then I jumped. My hair blew back as I tumbled towards the ground. My feet touched first, taking most of the impact. Then I fell to my knees and leaned over onto my hands. I took a deep breath and dug my fingers into the gravel that filled the park before I stood up. The rain didn't let up as I started to trudge home. The street lights burned out and the night went black. I could only make out the fine edges of objects. I collapsed into the middle of the street, scratching at the silver scars again.
The rain was pouring rather loudly that night, so you can't really blame me when I say that I didn't see the car coming until its bright headlights blinded me. The driver was barreling around the corner, and I couldn't come up with the sense to move. The car was only a few feet away from impact and I was completely prepared to take it; until I felt a warm pair of strong arms wrapped around my waist. It seemed like I flew from the street before tumbling into the wet grass with the arms. Before I could even say a word, the person was up and ran off into the night. The driver slammed on his brakes and fish-tailed a bit before coming to a complete stop and hopping out of the cab of his car, "Hey, kid! Are you okay?" He yelled. I stood up, shaking from the incident. No, I thought. "Yeah, I'm fine." I yelled back. "Come here, I'll give you a ride home." I wrapped my arms around myself and ran to the passenger door of his car. "What's your name, kid?" He asked after I was situated in the vehicle. Well, it definitely wasn't 'kid'. "Oh, my name is Story." My mum had a weird fetish for strange names. I felt bad because I was dripping all over his leather seats, but in all fairness, he had almost run me over. We turned onto my street and he stopped outside of my decrepit house. "I'm so sorry." He apologized once more before I exited the car. I slammed the door and the man sped away, leaving me in the still pouring rain. I couldn't help but look around in the darkness to search for the mysterious man whom had saved me from impending death.
My shabby house seemed to shake in the wind. It was like one of those houses you could see in the movies where the five year old girl was brutally murdered so now her and her mother haunt the entire place. It was grey and broken and was in desperate need of a make-over. The stone steps that led up to my dark wooden door were sinking into the ground making it so that you had to jump a little to get to the porch. The door was un-locked as always, so I opened it slowly, hoping to not be noticed. With my luck, the door creaked every inch of the way. I heard my father banging around in the kitchen before he stumbled around the corner with beer on the front of his shirt. He looked at me disapprovingly. "You're wet." He slurred before tumbling to the floor in a heap. "Thanks, I didn't notice." I answered sarcastically even though he couldn't hear me.
I found refuge in my bedroom. My mum had a really great idea where she would paint three of my walls black and then paint the biggest wall white. Then, she got a couple strips of Velcro and a small basket made for lockers and filled it with sharpies so that my friends could write on my wall. There was only a single flaw in her plan. I didn't really have that many friends so no one ever wrote on my wall asides from me. I had taken to writing quotes and drawing pictures; about half of the wall was filled with my musings. I changed into my warm pajamas and took out a sharpie. Racking my memory, I managed to scrape out a crude picture of the face I had seen earlier in the night. His brown eyes, round nose, pale lips and the distinct curve of his hood. I scribbled out the rest of his body, since I really didn't catch much else. I capped the sharpie and stepped back, eyeing the picture. I tossed the sharpie back into the basket and flopped into my bed. I clapped twice, shutting my lights off and fell asleep thinking of the strange vigilante in the night.