Flight

by Junshi Horeru

Tylor is a girl with a few problems she's grown up with out her father had to help her mother raise 4 kids and now has to put up with her stepfather while trying to help her drug addicted friend All this changes after she gets hit by a truck plz comment

1. Chapter 1

Flight

By: Junshi Horeru

Chapter 1: Accident

~ -- -- ~

I stared up at the mid-19th-century building threw its gigantic, cold gate. The gate's almost as cold as the world surrounding that academy. But the world has it beat. And that academy is one of the warmest thing I've seen.

Sure I live in Orange County, California. 44 minutes south of Hollywood. 14 minutes from the Pacific Ocean. Hell, Disneyland is practically up the street. But Flight Academy seemed better than any of part of this place. And for a school in California, it was pretty humble. Sure, it looked old (for California standards)(which, I must admit, are quite shallow compared to anywhere else). I pulled myself away from the gate and continued to walk to my job. Of course its not a job I chose to do, my mom, Abagael Used-To-Be-Trafford Panni, and her husband, Roger His-Stepdaughter-Tylor-Hates-His-Guts Panni, own a restaurant, though my mom and me and my siblings and stepsiblings do all the work. Roger just goes to the church and 'heals' people and 'purifies' and whatever other crap the Christian religion believes will 'help your soul return to your father in heaven and not go to hell'.

Me? I'm so not Christian. Hell, I'm not Jewish. I'm Wiccan. And I love it. My name's Tylor Val Trafford. Not Tylor Val (Trafford) Panni. I would never stoop down to actually becoming one of Roger's 'children'. Besides, I love my surname, though my dad, Travis Trafford, screwed it up. Travis disappeared when I was just 4, 11 months after my younger sister, Emma (better known as Evna) was born. Its been 13 years since I last saw him on that cloudy day. I barely remember him, anyway. All I remember was he had ice-blue I-will-see-threw-your-soul eyes and ruff never-combed blonde hair—which I didn't get, unlike the rest of my siblings, who have the tiniest bit of my mom's hair color, who has black hair—and always had a rough look to him.

I looked down at my knee-high, black high tops as I remembered the past. I was different looking than my other siblings, though I had more of my mother's looks than my other siblings. Except my brother, Author (super-dork, I call him)(though I'm sorta a dork myself)(not as much, though), who SHOULD be gay, but isn't. Or he's just in deep deep denial. I think its the second one. Anyway, I had a pretty-funky green tint for my eye color and to-top-of-mid-back-long black-with-a-tint-of-red hair. I had a nice little nose that I have NO clue where I got it. My mom has a sorta long nose, and Travis, if I remember correctly, had a strong nose. But, anyway, I'm not complaining. I love how I look, unlike most girls who look at super models that are so airbrushed. But, then again, I guess you can't help but see super models here in Cali.

I heard someone walking up behind me. Sure, being in a big city with a bunch of people always around you, you'd have someone walking up behind you 95% of the time, trying to pass you, but these footsteps I knew. One of the few people at the restaurant (which I should mention, its name is Panni-Ala)(Roger came from an Italian background, and Ala meant 'wing'...its retarded, I know), Patrick Alison. He was my so-close-to-ex-best-friend-and-ex-friend-its-not-funny.

Patrick is a good guy and all, but....recently, he's taken up drinking. Like every other high school student besides me and those who have standards, beer, but he also drinks hard liquor. I have absolutely NO clue how he gets it, much less how he's able to sneak it the Fountain Valley Jail—I mean, High School. Its where he and I met. Also, the kid—yes, I call him a kid...I mean, my 13 year old sister has more sense than him—has taken up smoking. Not just cigarettes. No, don't have Ty-Ty worry about your health with just the drug EVERYONE uses and that she keeps ripping out of your already nasty-smelling mouth, but start smoking WEED, too. God, this kid needs help. And a life. To stay off them drugs and them alcoholic beverages.

"Hey, Ty-Ty," he greeted me in his already-abnormal-since-I'm-used-to-him-being-drunk sober voice, a weed-stick in his mouth. I stared at him and shook my head.

"I'm sorry, I don't talk to potheads," I said and started to walk faster. My part-trench-coat-part-hoodie blew in the wind. For California, its pretty cold. Dipping down to the high 60's, so that's why I have the trench-hoodie.

Patrick rolled his dark blue eyes and threw his pot-stick to the side and stepped on it. He caught up to me again and pushed his long golden-blonde locks out of his face. "Don't be that way, Ty. If you had the pressures I did, you wouldn't think the same."

"You mean like the History Day project we're supposed to be working on together that you gave me all the work to do because you claim that its too hectic at your house for?"

He stopped in his tracks and I walked even faster. I didn't want to talk to him. I was always pissed on my way to Panni-Ala. He caught up again and brushed some of my red-black hair out of my face and pushed it behind my ear. I glanced at him to the side. "It is...I mean, my dog would tear the thing up."

"A script you type on the computer and put on a flash drive to bring to school so we could print it out there? I never knew. Tell me, does your dog usually eat electronics?"

He chuckled. "No....but its stressful. You know, with my sister going off to college. Me going off to college soon."

"Good for you. I've got a step-sister and a sister going off to college plus myself, plus I've got to watch after a kid that's only a few months younger than me who thinks he knows everything, a fifteen-year-old who looks up to the sixteen-year-old, a hyperactive thirteen-year-old who's confused about emotions all the time, and a twelve-year-old with irregular periods while doing homework, working on the project, juggling a social life, having two jobs, trying to come to a compromise with someone who hates your guts since you don't do what he says and he wants you to see him as a father figure, and your trying to FIND your biological-father. You tell me stressful when something worse than that happens." I was going to add a little thing that's been happening recently, but I didn't want to tell the drunk-pothead. Recently, I've been having weird stuff happen to me. Like, I could feel this muffin that some person at school was picking up in the lunchline, and I could taste it when they bit into it (swear I've never ever touched the muffin, or the type of muffin before, but I knew what it tasted like), when Patrick skinned his knee when he failed miserably at skateboarding, and I could feel exactly the same pain in the same exact place on the same exact knee, even though I was skating and not falling (he was drunk, and I didn't know it...at the moment), and now and then, I've either seen inside people's minds, or I could hear what they were thinking. It helped me on the big exam at the end of last year. Yeah, I cheated.

Patrick rolled his eyes. "Whatever....so, what are you doing later?"

"I don't know....Bobby is going to watch the other kids tonight while I take Evna to see a movie at her friend, Katrina's, house....after that, I have no clue. Homework?"

"Its winter break, Ty. We don't have homework."

"So what? Why are you asking?"

"I was wondering....would you like to go see a movie or go out to eat somewhere or something with me later? I don't think your dad would mind."

"I wouldn't know if my dad would mind, he didn't stick around long enough for me to see if he'd be fine with me dating....Roger could careless about my social life. I mean, its just a friend-date, right? Trying to make up for yesterday's fight? Again?"

"Not...necessarily. Kinda-sorta."

"Kinda sorta?"

"I....want to date-date you, Ty. You know, boyfriend-girlfriend? I've liked you ever since you first came to Holy Cross in first grade." He smiled a cute guy smile and blushed light-light pink.

I stared at him, and it took me a second to realize I stopped walking. Ok, I saw that Patrick's and my relationship is total crap and would not work any single bit, and he sees that our relationship should be taken to the next level? How blind is this kid? I mean, he has glasses and that, but I thought glasses were to HELP sight. A little voice inside me told me not to do what I really, really, really wanted to do, which was yell and scream 'no' as loud as possible and flail and act like I was having a seizure and that I had poison splashed on me and my brain was scared for life, but a louder voice pushed that out of the way and said just run.

I stared at him and shook at my head slowly then bolted in the opposite direction. "TYLOR!" he called after me. I kept running, trying to ignore the voice, the innocent voice, that said 'maybe I could turn him around and make him go to Alcohol's Anonymous or something and get him off of pot'. "WATCH OUT!" I heard him yell from a little ways down. I looked back at him, then looked forward as a tow truck started to turn onto the road I was heading for and I ran SMACK into the front of it at full speed, sending me into an unconscious sleep.

-- ~ ~ --

"Is she going to be alright, Doctor....Doctor...Dr. Porter, wasn't it?" my mom's voice asked, concerned filling her voice.

Dr. Porter? Who? I've been to the hospital before and I've been with EVERY doctor, literally, and knew them all by name. Was Dr. Porter new?

A strong, but beautiful and calm voice said, "Mrs. Panni, your daughter has suffered minor injuries. She should be coming around shortly," he chuckled a bit, "I bet she could hear us right now."

....No doctor was like that. Well, in California. Most were like 'maybe she'll come around, but I think she'll be a carrot for some time' or something blunt. Very few were joking and kind like this guy. Must be from out of town or something.

Then, oh god no, Roger's voice came to me, "Dear, Tylor will be fine. I made sure God won't take her up yet from you." God, if I were awake and knew where he was, I would punch him square in the jaw.

I heard someone move. "Miss....Trafford, is it? Are you awake?" the kind, calm, beautifully strong voice asked. My eyes flapped open.

My eyes landed on a beautiful, for lack of better words, man with bright red hair and beautiful green eyes. They were the EXACT same green as my eyes, but they look better on him. On me, it just looked freaky. I mean, seriously, they glow on me. He had slightly-pale skin and a beautiful smile. He looked to be about 20 to, maybe, very very small maybe, 25. I looked around more. Roger with his short brown hair and brown eyes caught my eye next. He had on his 'priest clothes'. Then I looked to my mom, Abby. Her medium-length curly black hair hug around her face and her beautiful brown eyes were red and puffy like she was crying. Her long, straight nose was red, too. She had dry tear streaks on her tan cheeks. It wasn't her real skin color, she went to the beach a lot.

Then I noticed Patrick. He looked worried. His semi-drunk-and-high expression had a strange mix of worried. It seemed weird seeing those two together. Then I saw...him. A boy, about my age, hell, I'll call him a man. He could pass for 18 or 19. He had black, sorta-long (too about the base of his neck), messy hair with a single green streak in it and he had beautiful green eyes. He was beautiful, like the red-haired man, but younger looking. And, oh my word was he tall. He was almost as tall as the door, and he's just leaning on the wall by the door. Both him and the red-haired man were sexy, but....dating a 20-year-old-looking-doctor (he's probably Dr. Porter) versus someone that looks about around my sixteen years? So, yeah.

"Where am I?" was the first thing that leaked out of my mouth. Ok, it was more like blurted, but....my brain's more focused on the black-and-green haired, 7 feet tall, sexy god leaning on the wall.

The red-haired man that was probably Dr. Porter replied in that strong, beautiful, calm, but kind voice, "Your at the hospital, my dear. I'm Dr. Ryan J. Porter. You can call me Ryan, if you want. I told your parents that, but they prefer to call me Dr. Porter."

I tore my eyes (somehow) from the sexy tall man and looked at him. "My dad has reappeared?"

Dr. Ryan chuckled. "I meant the two over there." He jerked his head to Roger and my mom.

I glanced at Roger and my mom for a second before looking back at Dr. Ryan. "Roger is not my father. My father is Travis Trafford."

He nodded. He put his hand so it was out stretched to the black-haired sexy man on the wall. "My apprentice here, Jude Corbin, has a father named Travis." I looked over to Jude (oh, Jude has always been my favorite name for a guy)(I wanted to name my first son (if I ever had one) Jude) and noticed he was looking at me. "Jude...what are you staring at?" Dr. Ryan's voice made me jump. I then noticed Jude blush all so slightly, but on his naturally-tan (I can tell) skin, it made the biggest difference.

He looked away and said in a really sexy voice, "Nothing, sir. Is there anything you want me to do, sir? Or am I excused to go back to the school?"

Dr. Ryan shrugged. "Whatever. I might need you later. Stay in the office area. I'm sure the nurses could use something to stare at other than a computer screen," he chuckled. Jude rolled his green eyes.

"What school are you talking about? Flight Academy?" I blurted. Damnit. I must sound like an idiot.

Jude looked at me and nodded as a sexy smile slowly appeared on his face. "Yeah...Professor Porter and I are from there....Professor just came to the hospital since they were short tonight. Where the hell could doctors go on vacation in a place that's basically a vacation spot? But, yeah..."

I nodded slowly. "That's cool." Jude and I locked eyes again. There was something in Jude's lovely eyes that made me stare. Was there something like mind control or something? Sorry, too many vampire-love stories, both book-books and from Quizilla. I smiled slowly in a shy way when Jude kept staring. Suddenly, my little sister came into the room, almost hitting Jude with the door. He caught the door easily with one hand.

Evna's short, messy dyed-black-but-looks-like-gray-thanks-to-her-blonde-hair bobbed around her face as she raced to my bed side. "Ty-Ty-Ty, you not going to die, aren't you? Author said you're going to die!" she squeaked. I rolled my eyes.

"Of course I won't die. Running face first into a truck won't kill you. Why would Super-Dork tell you that?"

"Cause he wants me to believe that you're going to die cause he's a jerk!"

"Oh, god, do I have to look over you two even when I'm in the worst situation, too?"

Author walked in, his short, golden blonde hair messed up as usual and his brown eyes were barely noticeable behind the glare of his dorky glasses. I have no clue why that brat likes those types of glasses. Does he think that since Peter Parker (yes, I know about Spiderman)(I actually liked Spiderman when I was younger) had glasses like his and Peter turned into this awesome superhero that he'll become something cool like that? Pft. In his dreams. "Its funny to scare her," he said in, his voice cracking a bit. I rolled my eyes. "You know it was fun for you to scare me when we were younger."

"I didn't TRY to scare you.....I beat you up. And I'll bring back those memories only to slap them out of your head again if you don't watch it, Super-Dork. Evna, don't listen to Spider-dork, he doesn't know what he's talking about." Evna looked over to Ryan, then to Jude. Oh, no. Oh lord no. She has THAT look in her eyes. THAT look that every 13 year old girl gets in her eye when she sees a hot guy. On TV, in the store, at the park, WHEREVER. She turned to me and crawled up onto my bed and I moved my legs into a crisscross position.

She whispered, "Ty-Ty, those are some SEXY doctors." I smiled and shook my head. I heard Jude chuckled a bit. Evna looked at him.

My mom came up and picked up my hand and put her hand over it gently. "Honey, Roger and I have to get back to the restaurant, but Dr. Porter will take good care of you. Evna, Author, come on....we've got to let your sister rest." I felt myself feel like I died inside as Evna got off my bed and walked away waving. I hope that's not an omen for the future. Once my family (and Patrick) left, Ryan looked at me. "Your younger sister is very funny, Miss. Trafford," he chuckled when he noticed the pain in my eyes.

"Yeah....she's the only one in my family now that I can actually really express myself to without criticism or someone trying to 'save me from the pits of hell' now," I said, playing with the sleeves on the hospital gown thing. Ugh. I hate these things. I noticed I still had my bracelets on my wrists in their perfect places. "So...uh...where am I hurt? Physically, I mean....from the truck," I asked him stuttering a bit.

"You had a bruise on your head and a long scar on your arm from when your arm hit the car and your skin got punctured by something the grill...that's all," he replied. I took that in nodding, then I realized he used past tense.

"What do you mean 'had'?"

"Miss. Trafford....I'm proud, but somewhat scared of your reaction, to tell you...you are not human. You are a type of creature called an 'ancient'. They are very powerful, and you are the true reason why Jude and I came from Flight Academy." I stared at him like he just told me he was Nyx, a Wiccan goddess. Yeah, that would be freakier, since he was a guy, and Nyx is a girl, but this is pretty freaky. Jude stepped closer.

"Professor Ryan had a strong feeling that you would be starting your....'awakening', if you will, soon, if not already. He wanted to make sure it went along well, like everyone at Flight Academy is," he said in a very serious tone.

"Tell me, child, have you noticed anything weird happening to you lately? Like, healing faster than normal, mind-reading, strange feelings, anything?"

I nodded, trying to get my voice back. At first I sounded like I had a dry throat but then it went to my normal voice, "Yes....uh....yes, I've experienced stuff like....I tripped last week, and feel and scrapped my knee pretty badly, and Patrick was there to help me and he helped me to the nurse's office and when we got there....the wound was gone. The blood was still there, but....my knee looked normal, other than that. And then, on Monday I think, my friend Katie accidentally cut herself with a butter knife, I know, weak much, but, anyway, I've felt the exact same pain she did, and.....this will sound strange, but.....I can hear everyone's thoughts. And I mean, everyone's thoughts.....and every thing's thoughts, too....at random moments."

Jude's eyes widened and his head jerked to Ryan. He started to speak some language that sounded Latin, but with more ancientness to it. Ancientness. How ironic to use. Ryan looked to me. "Very ironic," he said. I stared at him.

"How'd you....?"

"Most ancients can. And that language was the root language for Latin. Its the Ancient-language."

I blinked once. Twice. Then it processed. "Cool....weird, slightly hard to understand, but cool."

"I know....every awakening-ancient has a hard time at first."

"But...how do you know I'm an ancient? I mean, I thought it was something Goddess gave to me for the element of spirit." I then felt my face go red. I never really liked talking about religion to super-smart people, since they all seemed to be either Scientology-people or ashiest or Catholic, like Roger. He's not super-smart, actually, I think he's rather idiotic, but that's beside the point.

"Nyx—she's the one you believe in correct?--has probably blessed you with the spirit element. I can sense how connected you are with everyone. But I know you are since you are very powerful and some other attributes about you."

I stared at him. "You're Wiccan, too?" I squeaked in surprise. He smiled and nodded.

"Yep. My mother was a high priestess."

"Jealous."

"Pretty much everyone at Flight Academy is Wiccan," Jude informed me. I blinked and gapped.

"Cool," I gasped. "Jealous more. Barely anyone at Fountain Valley is Wiccan. Hell, barely anyone's anything but Christian." Jude nodded.

"I know....I hated that place when people got on huge discussions of religion and stuff....and my old friends from there where BIG on religion," he sighed rolling his eyes. I blinked.

"You went to Fountain Valley?"

"Yeah...Now I remember seeing you! You had Jefferson for English in Freshman year and that Japanese lady for art, right?"

"Holy crap, yeah! I remember you! You were on the football team! And basketball....and every coach wanted you....and every slut.....and every girl....and pretty much all the gay guys.....and all the guys were jealous of you....cause you were so cool and talented....and I was just a dork with no friends, really, trying to fit in. And you were a Sophomore, right?"

"Yeah, that's me.....and I didn't know all the gay guys wanted me, too....ugh....the sluts I knew about, I mean, they almost literally threw themselves at me."

"They DID literally throw themselves at you! My sister did!" Then I realized what I said and blushed again and looked away. "Sorry about that....she's stupid...."

"Oh, Alexia, right? I remember her....its not your fault."

"Actually, I think my soul knocked her out of my mom's arms when she was a baby and she fell on her head. So it sorta is...." Jude chuckled loudly.

"Hey, how are the guys from the football team from back then? Are they doing good?"

"The few that are left are....four of them died a month ago in a pretty bad accident where their car flipped somehow, and recently, six of them died very tragically when their truck went over a cliff going to the beach and they drowned in the ocean." Jude nodded pain in his eyes. "I pay too much attention to the news."

"Who died?"

"From the first accident, Tommy Roberts, Eddie Penapple, Jose Gomez, and Yuki Tsuchi...from the second one, I think it was Fred Yanzzy, Oliver Johnson, Reggie Michaels, Ted Harrison, Al Smith, and Greg Evenington."

"Oh....all those guys were my friends. Do you know if it was another car that knocked their cars over or if they were drinking or something?"

"I think I heard alcohol and some drugs were involved." Sadly, I knew all too well that drugs and alcohol were involved. I was there when all 10 of them died. I was the reason they died.

"Must be a great loss to the school."

"Depends on which clique you're talking about in the school and what teachers. But, yeah, the sluts, hoes, jocks, and, surprisingly, the preps are all still grieving. But my group never really wavered. Except for Evna since she's overly emotional about things and she's very fragile. And I think she had a crush on Oliver..."

Jude nodded. "I wish I could go back there, but knowing me, I'd freak everyone out and...yeah....I don't want to be the reason for people to die."

"Tell me about it," I groaned. Why'd he have to put it like that?

Ryan seemed to snap out of a weird trance, like he was too into something he was reading. Like he was reading a really good book or something at the most exciting part and it just ended in a really sad way or a real depressing way or disappointing way. Like the hero dies or you find out the hero has a bad passed and is actually the bad guy. "Miss. Trafford," he said. "You have an interesting mind."

.....OH DAMN HELL NO! He was reading my thoughts! I just know it! Oh, damnit, damnit damnit damnit damnit!

"I was just listening to your memories Jude and you were going threw, and all of a sudden....you're thoughts shut off, like a wall was put up or something to block me out, when you started to talk about those 10 kids. That usually happens when awakening ancients experience guilt or intense sadness."

Snap. Snap. Snap. SNAP! I can't lie to him and say 'it was intense sadness', cause it defanatly is guilt! I mean, I'm a 16 year old who committed murder! Accidentally, I must add. Not my fault they were drunk and they were going to gang rape me and I just HAPPENED to have some freaky crap happen just then and I blew their truck or car over with just my bare hands!

"Did it? That's interesting," I mumbled. Its not lying.

"Yes. Its very interesting. Fully awakened ancients can usually control that, though. I'm not going ask which it is. But...I'm curious. I'll ask your parents--"

"My mom and her, excuse my language, jack-ass-of-a-husband. Roger's not my dad," I corrected.

"Right, my apologies. Your mother and her husband, come to get you later, I'll propose this to them, too." He took a deep breath, like a guy would if he was proposing to a woman for her to marry him and he was very scared. But Ryan had a calm feeling about him. "Would you like to attend Flight Academy instead of Fountain Valley High School?" I almost leaped at him from all my joy as I hugged him by the neck.

"Yes!" I practically squealed like a hyperactive prep. Ew. "I'd LOVE to!" Ryan smiled when I pulled away. He chuckled at me as I pretty much danced around the room, not knowing any other way of venting my happiness. I was thinking kissing Jude, but....I don't want him to think I'm a slut that likes to rush things. Ok, I don't want him to think I'm a slut. Period!

"I'm glad you accept so....enthusiastically. I just hope your mother and her husband can be just as willing to let you go. It sounds you have a very busy life."

"I can convince my mom, and I have a way to influence Roger. I can tell him he'd be rid of me for good, and he'll accept. I know he will...unless he wants to 'save my soul'." I shrugged. Ryan smiled and nodded.

"I've got to go turn in your report, alright, Miss. Trafford? I'll be back shortly." He got up and walked out of the room. I hopped back on the bed and Jude sat on the bed. I guess he wasn't the type of person to steal someone's seat.

"Those bracelets look cool," he said smiling at my wrists, "Where'd you find all those?"

"Either my friends gave them to me, someone dropped them and I picked them up, or I went to Hot Topic and bought them." I shrugged.

"Could I see one?" He reached out slightly and almost touched them but I flinched back. He looked up at me. "Sorry....I didn't mean to surprise you."

"No, its just that....I don't like taking them off...they're like apart of me now..." And they conceal my biggest, darkest secret. Ok, second biggest darkest secret. All along my wrists, where my bracelets are, there's slits ranging from small, little barely noticeable slivers to big huge gapping cuts.

Jude nodded. "I understand....I have bracelets I can't take off myself." He lifted up his wrists and I noticed all the bracelets—mostly green and purple ones—going pretty far up almost to his elbow.

"....Is there a reason you wear them?" I asked in a small whisper.

"I like them." He smiled. I nodded. "What about you?"

"Roger hates them, and I love them." Jude smiled more.

"Cool. I remember hating my family, like how you hate yours. I hated my older sister, Lindsey, cause she used to annoy me a lot. Well, she still does, but I can ignore her now. She's moved away to Louisiana to scare people on Halloween since she thinks its easier down there."

I laughed nervously. "Did you have to watch over four kids, two of them you don't count as family even if your mother did, and have to work at your step-father's restaurant that he was rarely at, and had to fight with him every day because of religious reasons or just because you were being you and your only real friend turned out to be a pothead and a drunkard that wanted to have you but you were already being to try and get away from him?" Jude shook his head.

"Sucks to be you. I'm sorry for that."

"Its not your fault." I smiled at him and then Ryan came back in.

"Roger and your mom are here, Miss. Trafford," he said. Jude hopped off my bed.

"What was your first name again?" he asked messing with the bangs in his eyes.

"Tylor, but you can call me Ty-Ty, if you want," I said smiling more.

"Alright, Tylor..." Roger and Abby came into the room then. Abby rushed to my side.

"Sweetie, are you ok?" she asked. "Are you feeling better? Dr. Porter said that you should heal rather fast, but..."

"Abby, Abby, Abby....don't make yourself have a heart attack, I'm fine. No need to worry. I'm fine," I said in a calm, slow voice.

"OH, right....sweetie, Dr. Porter said that he'd like you to attend the Flight Academy....Roger's not quiet sure if he wants you at that school or at Fountain Valley, but I'll accept anything you choose to do."

"I'd like to go to Flight Academy," I said, trying to hide my enthusiasm. "I mean, since its a boarding school, I won't be a bother at home and I'll be one less mouth to feed. Also, you won't have to put up with me doing spells and circles or begging to go out of town or anything." The last part was directed more to Roger.

My mom bit her lip. "How about we sleep on it?" I nodded. I glanced around the room.

"Where's my clothes?" I mumbled. My mom took them out of her purse.

"We'll all leave you so you can get dressed," Ryan said. Roger left first, then my mom and then Ryan.

Jude, before he left, turned and smiled at me then left and shut the door. I got up and examined my whole body. There were bandages decorating my legs (some from cutting myself badly when shaving) and my arm had a bandage wrapping all the way up to my shoulder. I quickly took off the hospital gown and my bracelets. I stared at my wrists where the cuts were, bringing back the pain and memories. Some where from after I killed the first 4 football players and I wanted to make sure I didn't try it again, and the 6 football players I did more damage to myself, including a huge gash in my side.

I quickly put my black System of the Down tanktop on and then pulled on my short, purple plaid skirt and my black knee-length leggings. Then slipped on my rainbow socks and then, last but not least my really high high tops. I carried the trench-hoodie, slipping it on my shoulders as I walked out.

I walked out of the room and Jude was the first one to look at me. Ryan was talking to Roger and Abby. "Hey," he said. "You look nice." I smiled at him.

"Thank you," I replied. I then realized how he was dressed. He had on a bright green tie with a purple polo. Not the ugly, preppy polos, one where it had Gir from Invader Zim on the back and it was all bright and fun looking. He also had very nice pants. They were dark blue and somewhat faded.

Roger looked at me then. "Tylor, c'mon....we better get going," he said in his irritating voice. I sighed.

"Bye, Ryan. Jude. Thank you," I said nodding to the two.

"Don't mention it," Ryan said. "It was a pleasure to help you."

"Its no problem," Jude said. I then fallowed my mom and her husband out of the hospital and to the car. I could've sworn that Jude said, "Bye, my mùirn beatha dàn." Mùirn beatha dàn was Latin for soul mate and used in Wicca for blood witches, but I'm not a blood witch (at least, I don't think I am), actually, right now I'm not sure what anything is now....it seemed interesting for him to call me 'mùirn beatha dàn'. And I was probably hearing things. Like always.

End of First Chapter