Chapter 1 Alone In My Little World

Sometime you have to wonder about the world around you. You had to test its boundaries. You had to look back at the little moments that saved your life. Sometimes you just don't have the time to question the fucking reality rules. You just had to get up and run for your goddamn life and never look back.

My mother drove me to the airport with the windows rolled up, the light pitter-patter of rain hitting our car. Ii would miss this place. Miss the tightly packed homes, friendly waves from friends and neighbors. I would miss walking to Sainsbury's with Lyra and Morgan. I would miss trying to sneak Barcardi Breezers into our local Grammer school so we could get kicked out. Would miss laughing at the Year Eights. I would miss everything in my small flat I called home, on Tottenham Court Road.

But we were moving to America, my mother and I, leaving Britain to go to America. In a small town that doesn't show up on the map. My mother wanted nature, so that's where we were going. My mother was American. Her name was Caterina Madison. She liked to think of herself as a laid-back hippie type just because my dad and her went to a couple of festivals when they were at the university. She moved to London during her study abroad trip. She left my dad and took me with her, unknowingly. I bore his name, Davis. Raven Annabelle Davis. My parents were obsessed with Edgar Allen Poe back then.

So now, while we were moving to a town that I didn't know the name of, my mom was staying at our new house to decorate, and I was being shipped off to the local camp in town for the summer. Camp Crystal Lake.

I suppose if I learned anything from this trip (besides that you must always save the funny looking kids and never trust people to save your life) its that life takes funny turns when you're not looking.

This place, with Sears looking Catalogue kids, was to be my new home for the next two months in this strange new world. I liked the outdoors, I must admit, and this place was beautiful. It shined brightly here, and I basked in the warm glow, trying to ignore the American teenagers that were staring at me.

I was what you might call a social disease. I was weird, yeah, but I didn't look THAT bad. Apart from my obvious skinny-ness, and flat chest (I was the only sixteen year old girl at me Grammer school that didn't need to wear a bra) and pale skin, I wasn't that bad looking. I was pretty tall for my age, and I wished I had more curves, but I was OK. I had small lips, a proportioned nose, and big grey-green eyes. Lyra always told me I had cute, fluffy boy lashes, but I thought that they were just long. My hair was long and golden-red, and it spiraled in ringlets. Golden freckles sprinkled across my nose and upper cheeks.

I guess if I dressed properly, I wouldn't receive stares. I don't think I've ever owned a piece of bright colored clothing, apart from my green tutu, different shades of converse all-stars, and a couple of tanks and socks. Other than that, it was mostly black. Black jackets and skinny jeans, shirts and overalls, spider net stockings and eye shadow, black t-shirts and black shirts with cartoons, black long-sleeves, and dark doc martins. Everything was black. What could I say? It was my favorite color. People at home never laughed at me because of it, sure I'd get a couple old granny's give me cold, dirty looks, but it was just normal for me.

These people were giggling, pointing, and laughing at me, and some uttered words I've never heard applied to me before.

Emo. Goth.

Punker.

Freak.

Weirdo.

It hurt. It hurt a lot. But I wasn't going to let them know that. Instead, I walked to the cabin that was assigned to me, unpacked my things, turned on my iPod and drifted off to me screaming lullabies.

Sun poured in from my window and my stomach growled. My nose smelled dust and dirt, and I sneezed. Making a mental note of asking where the cleaning supplies was, I clumsily dressed myself in fresh clothes and walked outside. Something red caught my eye, and saw that someone had wrote with red paint on my door in hurried writing: Go Back to the Woods where you belong Monster Girl!

Little Fucks! They didn't even know me and already they had judged. They wanted a Monster did they? Well, they would get one! I left the comment on the door, thinking it a nice touch. Now everyone would know that the Monster Girl lived here.

The cafeteria was cramped and smelly, and the counselors were serving something

close to what looked like road kill. I grabbed a muffin and set off to sit by myself.

It was not five minutes until gorgeous American boy came to sit in front of me. He dressed in clothes that struck me as rich, and he had an arrogant smile. I disliked him on sight.

"Hey," he said to me, 'you're not from around here."

I nodded, even though it wasn't a question, just a statement of fact.

"My name's Dean," he said, "Dean Mitchell. What's yours?"

I gave him a small deadly stare, that stated, 'Oh, like you care,' but I gave up and sighed, "Raven Davis. And you can tell your mates behind you to stop giggling like a bunch of Year Thirteens?"

He turned to look at them and they quieted, but some of them still had a few snickers plastered on their faces.

I gave Dean a hardened look, "What do you want anyway?"

"Where are you from?" he asked.

"I bit my answer out, "Tottenham Court Road, London. Are you done with Twenty Questions Love? Cause if you are, I'd like to get back to my muffin."

He frowned, "Why are you being so defensive? I'm just trying to be friendly, Britain."

I snapped, "I don't know, why don't you tell me who wrote that lovely Welcome note on my door?"

He looked sincerely guilty, "It was one of my friend's girlfriends. It was just a joke. Honest, we meant no harm."

He smiled a crooked smile, and that did it for me.

I stood up abruptly snarling at him, "Yeah, that's really interesting," and he looked shocked, "And you can tell your mates you lost your bet. I know how it works. I'm not stupid so tell me how much money were you going to get for shagging the Monster Girl, huh?"

He seemed paralyzed, and his mouth was moving up and down with no words coming out, like a fish out of water. I was right, and he knew I was right. He was scamming on me, flirting to get some quid for scoring with the untouchable Goth. What fucking ever!

"Lame. You're so Lame," I hissed and flounced away, and I distinctly heard him say, 'bitch,' but I didn't care. I just wanted to be alone.

At the edge of the woods, after you walked in a little, there was a crude, home-made fence, with a sign that read, "Keep Out. Danger."

The fence was so badly made I assumed a couple of kids made it to scare people. I nimbly hopped on a rock and climber over. The woods were pretty here. The tall, thick trees covering the sky so completely, the woods seemed dark. I wanted to stay in here forever, away from Snobby kids, away from the cheery false smiles on the counselor's faces (who were barely older that me) and away from anything that reminded me that I was here in this alien place that I'm forced to call home.

I walked further into the woods, and found a pile of fresh, fallen green leaves. I buried myself in them and drifted off to sleep.

I awoke abruptly when I heard the crunch of leaves. I fought off the urge to cry out, "Who's there?" but I held my tongue. Millions of teenage girls either got killed or raped in horror movies when they dumbly uttered that fate-full question. As if the boogieman or a pervert would answer that! I crouched behind a fallen tree, waiting. I could be patient when I wanted to be, but my heart was beating inside of me so fast. Someone grabbed my shoulders and I jumped up and shrieked, holding my fists up in a protective stance, ready to punch out the enemy. A lanky boy with amber-chocolate brown hair and beautiful blue eyes held out his hands before him, "Whoa, calm down! It's only me, my name is Tripp, what's yours?"