A/N: Hey guys! Sarah here with my little story that I absolutely came up with on the fly. This is my first story, so R&R would be appreciated!

Fang: She also likes kidnapping people. Like me, for example.

Me: Shush, you little black turd. Go back in your closet. ANYWAY, I don't own anything except for Katrina and plot. Happy Reading!

The real measure of a woman is how strong she stands after facing a tragedy.

I refused to let any weakness leak through my broken shell. I was an escapee from a known murderer's house, if you could even call it that. The guy's name was Jerry, so he said. I could have anyone help me out, like a local Memphis family or even the police force. But I had to get home on my own.

Home was over six hundred miles north.

I rummaged through the bag I'd been able to get from Jerry before I knocked him out and ran away. There was an odd array of things in the bag, from medical supplies to an emergency blanket. I pulled a water bottle from the pack and downed it in a record-breaking minute as I continued walking down the side of the highway.

Generally, this action was frowned upon, but it was rather hard to walk along a highway unnoticed in the daytime. Like, um, I'd probably get to talk to the police chief for that stunt. And then I'd get flown back to Ohio. Yay.

Besides, my objective was to get home safely with no government help. And six hundred miles in about two weeks was doable, but I had to get back to school in about a month.

I doubt anyone would even recognize me. I'd been "pudgy" six months ago at about one-forty. Now, I could probably be considered "athletic," if they saw me own people in lacrosse, or "anorexic," if they saw me sitting around and studying, which was more the norm from May to November. Not exactly the weight loss program I wanted, but, hey, it worked. My hair was darker, so now it was a light brown with miscellaneous blondish streaks instead of dark blonde with brown streaks. Such is life. But I'd also grown three inches, so I was as tall as my mom.

The only thing that was the same were my eyes. Still blue-green in color, with some yellow specks in them if I was wearing something fire-colored. They looked even brighter when I wore green. Thomas had always said my eyes were like those little peas they sell at the supermarket, which had earned him a smack upside the head.

As I walked, I kept zoning in and out; sometimes focusing on my thoughts, while other times paying attention to road signs. I didn't want to end up in Chicago or something. Knowing my luck, I'd wind up in Seattle without even noticing.

The cash in my pocket wanted me to get a room in a motel for the night. My body told me to keep moving. And my brain kept whispering "Keep your guard up. You ain't stoppin'." The amount in my pocket was about two hundred, which could get me a week in a motel plus about that much food. But I wasn't stopping. I wanted to get out of Tennessee by morning, which probably wasn't happening, but a girl can dream.

I absently touched the thick silver chain resting on my neck, then trailed my fingers down to the dainty gold cross that dangled from the bottom. I didn't want to think about Thomas right now, since he could be dead, or dying, or maybe even looking for me. I swallowed hard.

A light noise brought me out of my thoughts, and I looked around quickly. Recon showed no suspicious activity, so I continued walking. I heard the same noise again, but this time it was more like a moan than before.

"Hello?" I asked softly, stepping lightly. I blinked when I saw someone dressed in all black resting against the barrier, with a scary-looking pool of blood beneath them. "Oh my great gravy," I breathed, crouching next to... Him. Something just said it was a guy.

I laid him down to try and analyze where the blood was coming from. I frowned at the deep gash on his chest that was still oozing, and his arms didn't look much better. He looked like death. I pulled another water bottle from my bag, sat the poor guy, who looked more like a teenager now that I could see his face through the shaggy black hair, up and poured half the bottle on his arm. I pulled out some gauze and began wrapping his arm in it.

I guess he came to, and his eyes widened a fraction of a millimeter when he saw me, but his dark eyes looked like he was panicking. I guess he was having a mental battle with himself, because he started to pull away, but stopped himself multiple times. He opened his mouth to say something, but I cut him off. "Look. You're bleeding on the side of a highway. I won't ask how it happened, but you need to stay still." He stared at me in astonishment, and I had to bite my lip to keep from smiling. "There's no valid reason for you to be arguing with me."

His eyes grazed over me quickly. "You don't look much better yourself," he said in a deep, rumbling voice, taking in my bruises. His eyes landed on a dark yellow one on my bicep.

"You should've seen it when it was fresh," I said with a light laugh. I tucked the gauze under itself when I finished the one arm and started on the other. "How old are you?" I asked as I dumped the water over his other arm.

He stiffened, and seemed to have another one of those mental battles. ShouldItellher,orjustletherdoctormeupandleave, he seemed to be thinking. I tried to shift gears, not wanted to cause an argument already. "I was ju-"

"Sixteen. And you?" He replied as I started to wrap the arm in gauze. How old was I? I was fifteen and a half, right?

"I think I'm fifteen. Almost sixteen," I said softly. "I'm Katrina," I added in a louder voice, "or Kat, or Trina, or whatever you wanna call me. I could even be "that girl who saved me from bleeding to death," because that's an ever-flattering title."

I swear he tried not to crack a grin. "I'm Fang. In the city, I'm Nick, though." I tucked the end of the gauze into itself, and it looked weird against the rest of his black outfit. "Less conspicuous."

I nodded. "Either you can take the shirt off, or I can cut it off. Either way, it needs to come off." I gestured to his bloody shirt and chest. He hesitated, and I frowned. "Doctor-patient confidentiality, I swear. If something's wrong with you, like, physically, I won't tell a soul."

Fang swallowed hard, but nodded. His eyes read, I'll trust you. I smiled as he began to pull of his shirt ever so slowly. He laid down on the cool cement, and I pulled out another water bottle to douse his chest in. It was a nice chest. Very muscular.

I had him sit back up and started to wind the gauze around his back when I felt something feathery. "What the-" I stuttered, looking at his back. There were a pair of wings growing out of it.