Chapter One:

I gasped for air against the dark. The thick steal pole my only safety from the invisible pavement. I held the small object close, not ever wanting to let something so precious end up like I knew I would. Looking up in fear, I saw the ebony pupils of the person… no… THING who was determined to end my life.

Looking at the exit routs, a.k.a. the yet-to-be-filled holes in the structure, I calculated my chances of escape. That came to a zero. The closest building to me was a good 200 feet off the farthest side of the constuction. The ground was further. 'I'm going to die…'

The truth behind this simple statement was unbelievably horrific, especially when put into my situation. Hundreds of feet away from safety, about to be brutally murdered by a creature you've only seen in pictures in storybooks, or movies on T.V.

I whimpered in fear, wishing for the best that was not to come. Pulling the metal closer, wanting it to somehow save me, I waited for the pain to come. The pain of a gunshot, a knife, thin metal wire slitting my throat, any commonly heard of weapons to kill. No. Not thoes. I knew what was about to come. Even when it did, it was still shocking.

I felt two sharp objects enter my shoulder, causing me to scream. I felt the muscle and flesh me TORN from where it should be. A warm sensation slowly crawled down my back, soaking my clothes through. I screamed in pain again, hoping that by some miracle, SOMETHING would save me.

I was torn from my temporary lifesaver, still holding the valuable trinket close to my heart. I was flug down to the ground. Fighting back would have been pointless. My killers eyes were filled with hatred. Deadly, venom-filled words were put on mute by my own screams. Just when I was about to hit the ground, a foreign sound came from somewhere in the distance.

"Beeeep, beeeep, beeeep."

I caught myself on the edge of the bed before falling off. I was covered in cold sweat. The evil silver machine of death released those annoying sound waves that it does every morning. I swatted at the snooze button in attempted to sleep, but alas, failed. My hand had a nice one-on-one encounter with the faux wood dresser instead.

Cursing under my breath a sudden bolt of stinging pain went up to my elbow, I pushed the blankets away. I pulled my thin legs over the size of me queen bed, pushing myself so that I was vertical. The cold Chicago air flowing in from the cracked window hit my bare shoulders; having no affect on the pale, smooth skin that covered me. 'Perfect for the windy city,' I smiled at the thought.

I grabbed the first c.d. I saw and plugged it into the massive stereo system I has received from a friend for my birthday a few years back. Pressing play, music that most people would normally consider awful sounds and screechy noises filled the room. The wooden floor vibrated from the normally silent bass. I had always wondered what so many people could have against a little screamo, and after a while I just decided that people would rather not listen to music that they won't take the time to sort out the words from the guitar.

Wondering over to the bathroom door, I did my best to ignore the shouts of angry sixty-year-old neighbors from the apartment below mine. The beautiful poster of Linkin Park greeted me as I turned the dull golden knob.

"Why 'ello there, mates. What brings you 'ere this lovely morning?" I attempted my best at a British accent, but managed something that sounded like it was; an attempt. Trying to amuse myself before work was never very fun. Ever.

Stepping onto the while tiled floor, I turned to look at myself in the mirror. 'Oh, how nice. Knotty hair and smeared eyeliner again. You look SO lovely, Charity.' I noted the sarcasm the voices in my head were giving me again. They became a real pain in the arse at times, especially when you DIDN'T want to seem crazy. Conversing with yourself can really leave a bad first impression.

Turning the shower up to the hottest it could get, I stripped my clothes and stepped in. Again, the water never seemed to get hot enough. My skin had always been freezing. The doctors had never seemed to know why. There was no disease known, always close, but no cigar. My parents didn't have anything that I could have inherited from them. Advantages and disadvantages were plentiful, but that never stopped the mystery.

Sitting in the steaming, boiling water gave me a chance to think over my dream. The dark eyes… the incomprehensible fear… it seamed to unbelievably real to be just your subconscious going wild. I've had dreams like this before; nightmares, at they are commonly known, but they were incomparable to the feelings I got staring into the black figures eyes. This dream was much more than a nightmare; it felt like reality.

I pushed the thoughts into the vault of things better forgotten and grabbed the random shampoo I had gotten cheap at a CVS. I lathered it into my hair, almost killing my head as though it was an attempt to scrub out the dream. I rinsed it through thoroughly and grabbed the towel I had set out for myself of the curtain rod, wrapping it around my dripping body. Being insanely cold 24/7 has many more disadvantages than advantages. On being you are 5 times colder after you get out of the shower than any normal human. I dried off my dark, short hair, which itself was a huge task alone.

"Stupid thick hair..." I muttered to myself as I pulled at the knots that had embedded themselves in random places amongst my head with a brush. "Thank you oh so much, Mother.' I grabbed the blow dryer from the bathroom cabinet, drying my hair so that the natural waves were prominent. I also inherited that from my mother.

Picking out black eyeliner and mascara from my makeup bag, I continued my daily morning ritual. I carefully doused my eyelids with the black concoctions that I had grown to love during my teen years, filled with hatred against the world. Willing to rebel against whatever challenged me. Wanting so many questions to become answers. Wanting the unknown to become the overly exposed. Traveling from foster home to foster home really has an emotional impact on a person.

I quickly glanced at the alarm clock on my nightstand.

"Shit!" I cursed as I saw the green letters display that it was 8:10. If I wanted to be to work by 8:35, I would have to leave, more or less, NOW to get there on time. About twenty minutes to walk close to a mile. Imagine…

I rushed out into my room, grabbing the first clothes I saw in the 'clean' pile on my floor. Carefully examining the clothes, I decided that a plain black spaghetti strap shirt and my pair of camouflage jeans with a million random rips would look decent. I ripped my work shirt out of my closet and ran into my kitchen at top speed. I grabbed a poptart out of the cabinet to eat on the way to work. Sliding on my black Vans, grabbed my (amazing) brown Piebald hoodie, and lime purse-pack. I managed to be out of my house by 8:17.

Rushing down the hallway, I quickly made it to the street. This is how it is. I live at just off one end of Michigan Ave. whereas Virgin Megastore, my work, is at the other end. Since Michigan Ave. is also known as the Magnificent Mile, I just rounded the distance to a mile to work, and a mile back. I can barley RUN 20 minutes and make a mile, but mix living in Chicago and mild insomnia pays off at three in the morning.

I took my shortcuts, through one ally way to the next, keeping my keys close at hand incase someone wanted to pull a move on me. Yes, two things to describe Charity Black are paranoid and horror movie lover. Unfortunately for me, those go hand in hand. Every horror movie I watch makes me more and more paranoid, especially about some of the main places they take place in. The chipped, faded red brick was always intimidating; therefore I usually take the main road. I gagged as the smell of rotting garbage made it's way to my nose.

After about 10 minutes of alleyways and paranoia, I made it to the main street, thankful I was still alive. I walked the few remaining blocks to work, stopping at a small corner shop .About a block to work and it was only 8:30 thanks to my rushing. I filled a foam cup full of steaming coffee, and paid the short cashier.

Exiting the shop, a huge digital clock on the building across the street showed me that it was 8:33. I was NOT in any mood to lose my job because I was late for work. I broke into a fast sprint to my work. Rounding the corner, I almost ran into multiple blurred faces. When I finally skidded to a stop and swung open the employees entrance, I was relieved that I had managed to get in he door by 8:35 on the dot.

I ran up the metal stairs, the stairway brick looking much like the sinister alleyway. The lights hung low in a half oval shaped chandelier. This was the only reason I hated coming to work. Again, paranoia and horror movies and the warp and the woof for me. A very annoying mix if I must say.

When I finally made it to my floor, I was more than happy to get out of the cramped, torture-room-looking stairwell. I walked up to the employees lounge and turned the knob to see a few familiar faces I had grown to know. I set my purse pack on the small circular table, ready to forget about horror movies and continue on with my day.

"Hey, Bre, who's working in front today?" I questioned my best friend as I slipped on my nametag, displaying "Virgin Megastore" and the name 'Charity' in my sloppy script.

"Uuuh...I think Craige and Kaddy have front today. You and I have second." Bre responded in the Southern accent she had adapted when she moved to Texas for her dad's work at 7."You have front tomorroa, though."

I sipped the coffee I had bough in the rush to get to work. The hot didn't bother the back of my throat at all. Normally, people would have stared at me and thought I was crazy for drinking a steaming hot liquid (even though I kind of am, considering it can still burn my throat without me feeling it), but Bre was used to it. After all, she had known me since I moved to here when I was 19. The longest that anyone has ever gotten to know me in my 21 years of life.

Just then, Craige barged into the room, singing none other than Fall Out Boy.

"And I saw God cry in the reflection of my enemies, and all the lovers with no time for me! And all of the-"

"Will you shut up?!?" Bre had grabbed her cell phone and thrown it at Craige, hitting him in the knee.

"Wha'?!" he cried as he rubbed where the black device had hit him. "Can't a man sing?!?"

I laughed as the two argued. Just like an old married couple, their arguments were pointless and unneeded.

"Not if that man has the voice of a thousand Pete Wentzs!!" Bre teased as she ruffled Craige's black hair. Her answer was not only hilarious because she was making fun of Pete Wentz, but because she was comparing Craige's okay voice to Pete's shriek.

"But I bet Pete Wentz isn't as good looking as me, am I right?" This comment nearly made me die of laughter as Ryan, the gayest guy you will ever meet, peeked through the door, obviously hearing the conversation while he was doing inventory. I didn't die, but I fell on the floor, my knees giving in.

"Thanks guys," Bre giggled as she poked my side, "You killed my best friend." Her naturally violent red hair fell over her face, making the artificial light shine off of it.

"Ahh! Would you at LEAST dye it darker red so that I don't get blinded from it every time the light hits it?!" Craige cried, dramatically shielding his eyes from Bre's hair.

Ryan spoke again, sealing the fake argument." Will you two stop your straight-people bickering? SO 2006," he scolded through a smile. That was one of our favourite hobbies; Scolding Bre and Craige as if they were children. Bre pouted and stuck out her tongue, making Ryan's thin lips curl upwards into a smile. Craige whacked Ryan upside the head, making him squeal.

"Not nice!" he whined in the girliest tone you will ever hear from a grown man. Craige only flipped him off and outstretched his arm to help Bre up off the tile. She grabbed his neck, giving him a full kiss. Did I forget to mention that they were engaged? Probably not...

"Will you two get a room?" I groaned as I turned away, protecting my still young eyes from the affection of two of my best friends. "That's just plain strange, not to mention nasty, to be sticking your tongues down each others throats at work!!"

Bre rolled her eyes and sighed. "Charity, just wait until you find the love of your life, and I'm yelling at you to keep your hands off him." Craige chuckled. And then fell forward, his face meeting the floor.

"Thank you, Ryan," I gave him a high five as Craige stared at him with shock clearly written across his face.

"Since when the hell did you get so strong?"

"Since I came out of the closet." Ryan smiled and laughed at our personal joke about his oh-so existent sex life.

Craige shuddered. "I don't wanna know, man." Bre helped him up and the two walked off towards the front to open.

I walked over to Ryan. "Oh, the funs of having two year olds for friends, huh?" I joked and rolled my eyes. A bad habit, I must admit, but it makes sarcasm much more prominent.

"I pity the foo's," Ryan snickered and snapped his fingers to add to the sarcasm that laced his quote. I laughed and started walking to the second floor.

I burst through the employees entrance, looking forward to an evening of sitting around and doing nothing. Some call it boring, I call it relaxing. What more could you want than to pig out on popcorn and watch movies from the 80's with crappy special effects? Heaven…

I started on my way back to my house, deciding that the earlier I got home, the better. In order to get home by the time I wanted, that meant I had to do what I hated doing; Taking my shortcut. The deserted alleys that scare all the sense out of me. Oh joy.

I walked the few blocks to my doom, as I had so cleverly decided to nickname the shortcut. I took my time, but at the same time tried to keep a decent pace in which I could still get home somewhat early. I took in things that I had once found foreign and scary, but now were all to comforting. The tall buildings. The cramped streets. The busy sidewalks. The thousands of different people. This was my home. The place that I would want to live out my days and nights. Where I would want to meet the person I would spend those days and nights with. Where I would have children and where they would grow up. I never even pondered that in the blink of an eye, every want I had would disappear into that vault with my dream.

I turned into the first alley, trying to block out the images I had seen in so many movies. So many movies I can't even begin to name them. I tried to ignore the voice in my head telling me to take the long way home, convincing myself that nothing would happen. I had taken this way many times before this, so what could possibly happen now? I kept walking, not paying attention to how far I had gone, when I was, unknowingly, almost to my street. And in that instant, my life would never be the same.

I heard a noise. Not a small noise like a mouse squeaking, or a squirrel running away from us loud humans. This was a sound of a hunter sneaking up on its prey. A sound I just couldn't block out. When I turned my head to see who was attempting to stalk me, I froze in fear. I had found myself at the end of the barrel of a loaded gun. The gun was held by one of those lanky, creepy looking guys that spends his time buying cigarettes and doing drugs. His face was lengthy, high cheek boned and almost had an anorexic look to it. His eyes were a deep shade of dull, dark brown. Almost black.

Oil and dirt doused his features, making him look like a walking pile of dirt. Dressed in tattered blue jeans and a dirty gray hoodie, I felt completely trapped. I couldn't scream. I couldn't run. The nightmare… Could this be it? Could this be what my nightmare was telling me was going to happen? Do I have some strange form of ESP? Millions of questions, useless and pathetic all the same, swam through my head.

An icy, disgusting, slimy voice came from under the dark hood. "Don't move. Do as I want ya too. I don't wanna hurt ya, just looking for a good time."

I shivered at the phrase "good time." Used in so many cheesy pick up lines, this… thing made it sound vile and nasty. I stayed completely still, not wanting a bullet to become one with my brain. I let him creepy forward, grabbing hold of my arm and pulling me back deeper into the ally. I was still paralyzed with fear, so moving was a rather difficult thing. I felt my spine have a collision with the hard brick wall. The stalker started to attempt to pull my shirt up over my head. I shut my eyes as I felt the oily, grimy hands touch my neck. I went through ever scenario I could think of on how to escape.

Give this guy the time of his life, then bring his gun back on him. Sit here like a stranded puppy and end up dying. Attempt to run and get caught in the leg by a bullet. I felt my shirt go above my head, and felt the creatures chapped lips start to run down my jaw, leaving a slime like saliva where they had touched. A cringe was caught in my nerves system, and a yell for help was caught in my throat.

Two dirty hands felt their way up my under shirt, finding their way up to my bra strap. I wanted more than anything to slap his hands away, to kick and run, but I was to frightened by the thought of a bullet entering my body. I though I was done for, about to be raped, shot, and left to rot with the garbage in an unnamed ally way in downtown Chicago. I was almost in shock by what did happen.

I felt the character before me being lifted weightlessly off of me, then heard him, or, more or less, his corpse by the sound of the blow, hit a dumpster. I then felt my shivering body be lifted into comfortable arms, suddenly feeling more secure than I ever had in my life. Odd, I thought, I never feel so... safe...

"Don't open your eyes until I say to," an attractive, deep voice whispered into my ear, nearly making me gasp at the smoothness. I forced out a nod, letting myself trust this stranger more than I should. I didn't know what I was getting myself into.

The stranger picked up my legs, holding me much like you see firemen holding a young child after they save them from a building up in flames. I tried to even my breathing, also attempting to calm my rapidly beating heart. I was unaware of the moves my lifesaver was making; I didn't even notice he was running. Suddenly, I felt myself being set down on something soft. Something familiar. My bed? My bed?!

I jolted upwards, aware of everything. The first thing I saw was my own hair, so I swiped that away. Already stunned at what had just happened, I examined my cluttered room. The second thing I saw stuned me even more.

I saw a tall, lanky figure. Looking to be about 6' 0", he was skinny yet muscular. His hair was a deep ebony colour, and came down in beautiful waves to his shoulders. His faced was round like an adolescent teenager, but squared at the same time to make him look much more mature than he would had it not been there. His cheekbones were set high, as well as his jawbone. His eyes were a deep, beautiful- no. Beautiful is an underestimate. There was no description for what I saw.

The deepest, richest, most vibrant shade of dark gold. Jet-black pupils contrasted to make his eyes to the point where there is no word to describe them. I found myself surprised that they were looking out the window and not at me. Most shocking to me, more shocking this his indescribable eyes, was the fact that his skin was not only as pale as mine, but more pale. One or two shades lighter and his skin would be white.

"W-who are you?" I gasped, a mixture of shock of both nearly being killed and the statue of perfection less than 5 feet away from me. His eyes looked up from their place at the window. His perfect, pale lips curved up into an amazing smile. Almost like he Mona Lisa except much more prominent.

"No one. Friend of your family," he said in a low tone, his smooth voice made a breath get caught in my lungs. I was in total awe from this stranger that had saved my life.

"I don't have family," I retorted.

"You have more than you know," and with this simple statement, he turned his foot and walked out of my room. I took a quick second to take in the basic of what he was wearing. Dark gray trench coat with multiple pockets in random places, looking a lot like it would be to heavy for his body if he weren't so muscular. Khaki, army looking jeans that hung over heavy black army boots gave me the false impression that he was, or had been in the armed forced. A lighter gray sweat hung over his pants.

I stared at the door, confused in so many ways. I had just nearly been raped, murdered, and then here comes this amazingly, indescribably beautiful creature, and says he knows my family. I sat in thought for a few minutes, and decided one thing; I needed to find this strange man. and find out what the hell he knows about my family.