{Prologue}

The first thing you need to know about me is that I wasn't always like this. For a majority of my life I was utterly normal. A cliché one could say. A member of the southern middle class with all the unfair advantages unjustly awarded to me at my birth. I did debate in high school, graduated from a two year college, and worked half a dozen dead end jobs. My parents have their religion but sleep in separate houses. To put it bluntly, if life were a spice I would have been flour.

Things weren't always this screwed up. That all changed the day I met them...well, relatively at least.

Months before my life had taken an unusual turn to say the least. One day I woke up and it seemed as if the entire world had changed in a blink. All things considered, I was adjusting pretty well with my current circumstance. Acclimating to the sudden and constant rush of voices. Training myself to drown them out. I even 'chose' to move out of state and live with my reclusive aunt Myrtle. I thought I knew heat and humidity growing up in Charlotte North Carolina but it was nothing compared to the swamps of Louisiana. Two steps out the door and half of your makeup is already melted off. During the summer months no matter how low you crank the AC or how many fans you turn on you're never really cool. Just less unbearably hot.

At first I had no idea what to expect. I had never once met my aunt and the only contact I ever had with her growing up were Christmas and birthday cards. Crumpled five dollar bills falling out over small scribbles about how 'she wished she were there to say it in person.' Not to mention everyone in my family talks about her as if she's One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest crazy. Apparently she lives in my great grandparent's old run down summer home with a half dozen cats and never takes a step off the property. A southern version of Grey Gardens minus all the political connections. Knowing now what she had truly gone through it's obvious she was never crazy. No more than myself. Remembering the way my mother used to toss those cards quickly into the trash still makes my heart twist with guilt.

The day the unthinkable happened my mother ushered me into her lavish bedroom and quickly sat me down. A glass of wine in one hand as the other feverishly dug into her bedside drawer. The evening sun shown in on us through the sheer curtains. Giving the room an odd sort of other worldly glow. It did nothing to lessen how petrified my mother looked. Eyes wide. Bracelets jingling against each other as her hands shake. I couldn't hide the shock I felt as two small white pills were shoved into my hand. Mother never shared much of anything. When I was five she grounded me for week just for using one of her spare bed sheets to build a fort. The thought of her voluntarily giving up two of her prized Valium was almost laughable;none the less, here I sat. Two of mother's little helpers patiently waiting in the palm of my hand. In that moment I knew that whatever was coming, whatever terrible secret that was about to be revealed, would likely knock me over. I dry swallowed them in one harsh gulp and did my best to ignore the putrid taste they left in the back of my throat. I was expecting the worst but even I wasn't prepared for the awful truth of it all.

Downing the rest of her glass of wine in three large gulps, my mother sat it down loudly atop her one of a kind rosewood marble nightstand, and wiped her mouth on the back of her hand. My mother was usually so polished and put together. So unnerved by anything that was thrown her way. When she found out my father was cheating she didn't throw a huge fit or slash his tires. She blackmailed him into giving her the house in the divorce settlement. To see her unraveling like this was the first of many warning signs of what was to come. Without the slightest hesitation she admitted that she had always known. Had always been aware that what had happened to me was a possibility.

Apparently being able to hear people's thoughts ran in the family.

My jaw hung open as I watched her, searching for any sign of a true emotion. Instead she only stares at her empty wine glass as if looking at it hard enough would cause it to magically refill itself. I on the other hand was too busy trying to process the amount of truth that was being dumped at my feet. Still as a stone I watched as my mother began nervously ringing her hands. Looking anywhere but at me.

My own mother, afraid to look me in the eye.

The woman who had birthed me, given me her mother's name, and raised me all my life suddenly seemed like a guilty child. Frightened by my very presence. She told me she had prayed to God every night that it would skip my generation. Turn up in one of my crazy cousins. Fade out entirely. Sadly for myself and everyone else involved God had stopped taking my mother's calls back in the seventies. A few tense days later and it was decided it would be best for everyone if I spent some time away for awhile. A chance to get out of town so I could have a fresh start.

Pardon my language, but that's a crock of shit.

From the very first moment it was suggested I knew there was no way of getting out it. This wasn't an option. I had no say in this. Truthfully, I hadn't had the best luck with finding work and my paychecks more often than not left me behind on either my rent or one of my other various bills. My mother pointed out that this way I could lighten my financial burden by moving in with family who wouldn't charge me. More importantly, it will put as much distance between my parents and myself as possible. She never said the last bit but she didn't have to.

The day I left, the three of us stood silent in the doorway of my mother's modest two story brick house. It was the first time I had seen my parents in the same room since my graduation nearly two years before. Standing there with my bags and suitcase at my side I can't help from digging my nails into the back of my arm. Hoping that by some miracle I wouldn't feel it. That I would wake up and realize this had all be some horrific nightmare. It did nothing of the sort. It just hurt like hell. Leaving behind tiny red crescent marks on my fair skin.

Neither my farther nor my mother looked me in the eye as they each told me how sorry they were that I was leaving and how much they would miss me. This was all about formalities. Handling this very unusual situation as normally as possible. They didn't have to say it allowed. I read it easily in their thoughts. Clear as a bell.

They wanted me gone.

Biting my lip hard enough to break skin I attempted to hide the discomfort on my face. When the taxi driver begins to honk his horn impatiently I have to lock my knees to keep from running out the door. Failing to steady my trembling hands I still somehow manage to open the car door and climb inside. My father too busy loading the last of my things into the trunk to say good bye. Glancing out the window I can make out my mother's outline standing in the front doorway. Her shoulders jerking up up up and down with small stifled sobs.

There were no hugs or bittersweet goodbyes. Just the click of my seat belt and the heavy slam of the trunk closing. My father waves casually from his old pick up while mother ran inside. Hands covering her face. The red door slamming shut behind her and causing her monogrammed reef to clatter to the floor. The hum of the taxi's engine turned over as we pulled away from the curb, and just like that, I was gone.

Roughly ten months later and I'm lacing up my shoes for another full day of waiting tables while my aunt sits dozing in the small sun room. The tv busy recording her shows quietly in the background. Thank goodness I finally taught her how to use the DVR or she would never be able to keep up. Aunt Myrtle is a character to say the least. She loves television almost as much as she loves reading. The majority of her house is covered in books. Random stacks here and there. Shelves covering nearly every bit of wall space. Not the slightest bit organized. If you wanted to find one the best chance was to look for something else. Inevitably you'll come across it.

It had only taken a few weeks of living together for me to realize that my aunt is undoubtedly one of the kindest people I have ever met. She had lived on her own for so long I thought for sure she would be cold and unwelcoming but she was entirely the opposite. She hums constantly. Is always baking something delicious and has a razor sharp wit. Not to mention mildly crepuscular.

Grabbing my car keys and jacket I tip toe over to where she sits lightly snoring in her favorite chair. Chicken legs propped atop the ottoman. Picking up the still open book from her lap I mark the page before sitting it atop the coffee table. Her blanket has slumped to her knees and I pull it slowly atop her before tucking it in lightly to keep her warm. It was getting cooler out each day but Myrtle loved leaving the windows open. Said the fresh air helped her focus.

"Thanks suga bae." She mumbles. Eyes still closed. Long fingers gripping onto the blanket and pulling it up to her chin. Sometimes I swore she was half cat with how often she napped; even so, as soon as I returned she would be wide open as a case knife with dinner and desert warm and waiting.

My family has missed out on so much for shunning her.

Just as they have me.

In truth, yes aunt Myrtle is a bit of a hermit but hasn't stopped her from knowing nearly everyone in town. She talks on the phone constantly. Apparently we can't hear peoples thoughts through it which is one upside. Plus, there is always her baking. She grows all her own veggies and fruits in a little garden in the back yard. Given that her ingredients are always so fresh her specialty pies pull their own weight with the community. She even managed to set me up with a job at a small diner right off of the main highway. Under the condition that I would frequently bring in one of her homemade pies for the boss to sell up front. When she first approached me about it the thought of being around all those people was fucking terrifying. For the first two weeks after I moved in I hardly went outside. Usually just to get the mail.

'It's the strongest at the beginning' She had told me. 'You'll adjust in time'

At first I hadn't believed her. Having to hear all the voices made me want to yank my hair out. Even having to sign for packages from the UPS man felt like slow torture, but after a certain point I realized I had one of two options.

A: I could shut myself in as my aunt has.

Or B: Woman up and deal with it.

I chose the latter.

Now after months of practice it's almost like flipping a switch. Staying busy helps and I've quickly made a name for myself as a hard worker. Occasionally a thought or two will slip through the cracks in my mind and I'll have to step outside for a cigarette break even though I don't really smoke. It's the privacy I crave. The quiet. Not the nicotine. Then it's back into the fray, refilling glasses of sweet tea, and checking in on my tables.

I hardly even notice the two men that sat down in my section until the one facing my direction clears his throat loudly to gain my attention. Forcing a smile I acknowledged him and grab two menus from off the wall. Lucky for them they picked the last available booth. Half of the chairs and tables in this place desperately need to be replaced and require a book a matches slid beneath a leg or two to keep from wobbling. As I move closer I do my best to steady my breathing. In an out. Today's a Friday and our busiest day of the week. I had opened and still hadn't gotten off work because my replacement decided not to show up. My feet are throbbing and my nerves feel shot. With each passing hour it's becoming more difficult to shut it all out.

The endless parade of thoughts.

Reminding myself to smile I quickly straighten my mint and white trimmed skirt. Pulling my pad and pen out from my front pocket I make my way over to their booth. The two men are dressed similarly; canvas jackets paired with flannel. Both look a bit worn down but it does little to diminish their looks. I can't lie, they are both equally attractive to say the least. Taking a deep gulp I push forward.

"Welcome to Dean's Diner, my name is Penny. Can I start you off with something to drink?"

My voice is laced with the fake enthusiasm that I only ever use at work. Waiting tables pays less than minimum wage and I rely heavily on my tips. Glancing out the large window directly in front of me I can just make out the the sun as it begins to fade behind the tree tops with their changing shades of red and orange. Blanketing the entire diner in warm autumn light.

Both men order draft beer and seeing as it's at least half pass five I don't judge. If I was wasn't working I would be right there with them. Hell, we have customers that stumble in here at eleven in the morning already half drunk and still tossing cocktails back like they're ginger ale.

When I return with two full glasses, both men know their order. A bacon cheeseburger with a side of fries, plus a slice of pecan pie for one and a garden salad for the other. Two complete opposite ends of the food spectrum. Ten minutes later and I'm half way to their table when I notice they seem to be in deep conversation. The one with longer hair sits with a laptop in front of him. Hands resting atop to the keyboard while the other leans forward, speaking in a hushed deep voice I can't quite make out. Realizing this, I try to let them know I'm coming and give them time to wrap it up.

I hated invading others privacy in any shape or form.

Perhaps I'm not obvious enough. Maybe my steps too soft because neither of the two men notice me until I've began the process of sitting down their meals. Balancing those trays isn't anywhere near as easy as one would think. It takes a skill that came only from experience. Choosing to get rid of the heavier of the two plates first I grab a hold of the bacon cheeseburger and lean forward to sit it in front of the gentlemen on the left who had ordered it. He grins up at me with wide green eyes and quickly rolls up the sleeves of his shirt. Happily preparing to dig into his greasy burger as if it were a filet mignon. I know it's pointless to give him utensils but it's a store policy. As I move to sit the silverware beside him my wrist brushes ever so gently against the exposed flesh of his forearm. The touch of skin to skin with mine makes every hair on my body stand on end.

That's all it took.

Like a blow to the brain a sudden rush of images comes flooding into my mind. A thousand cold waves crashing over me at once. I see it all. A man in black with gray, almost silver hair and a thick beard. A gruesome blood soaked blade trembling in a shaking hand. A mass of bodies littered among a cold open field. Seared flesh. A scar. A story played out before I even know its started. When I'm at last able to pull myself away the tray has slipped from my hands and lays spread out across the tile floor. Lettuce and broken porcelain are scattered everywhere and something else. Red and bright. More drops appearing before my eyes.

"Hey take it easy." Says the shorter man, the one whose arm I had grazed, while rising from the table. His voice thick with concern. Hands outstretched to help steady me. The last possible thing I wanted is anymore physical contact. I've had close calls before, times when thoughts had seemed so loud and clear it was as if I could actually picture them in my mind.

This though, this was entirely different.

Never had I experienced anything even close to it. The clarity with which I saw it. My aunt hadn't once mentioned such a thing. Voices were bad enough, but images? It didn't add up. Stumbling back into the nearest table I recoil from the stranger whom it now feels I know far to well. Salt and pepper shakers clatter against each other as I grip the tables corner. It isn't till his eyes glance down at my blouse that I discover the source of the crimson drops. The front of my uniform is littered with blood. My blood. Reaching up I find the culprit. My nose has began bleeding with reckless abandon. I don't ask to be excused. I don't say a word to anyone. Not even my boss as he hurries around the counter with his face full of worry. Waving him off I cup my nose in my hands and dash out the side door.

The cool autumn air chills my skin as I step out into the parking lot. Causing tiny goosebumps to rise on my arms and legs. Looking around I don't see any customers and hurry to the furthers parking block. It's where I always come on breaks. A huge mossy oak looms over head. It's limbs shaking as much as my own. Inside my hands the blood begins to pool, warm and desperate for escape. Finally mustering up the courage I pull them away slowly. Spreading my fingers apart. The amount of red staring back at me makes my head spin.

I'm not doctor but this can't be good.

Suddenly the side door swings loudly and the two men from before hurry outside. The shorter one shoving his wallet in his pocket while the taller one glances around. Looking for what I hope isn't me. Leaning back I pull myself behind the low hanging folliage but it does me no good. It must be the blood loss because I feel like an idiot for even trying. As I watch them make their way in my direction my mind screams at me to jump up, to run from them, or find something to defend myself with. Yelling at me to make a choice.

Fight or flight.

"Stay back!" I demand as they approach. Holding up a blood soaked hand as my only physical defense. It does little to sway them and each step closer. "I'm serious don't fucking touch me!"

"Let us get you help. Something's clearly wrong." The taller one suggest. Trying to create a sense of calm while looking as non threatening as a six foot four man giant can look.

"What the hell did I just see?" I hiss, looking at the shorter one directly in those deer caught in the headlights eyes. "That man, that dark man with the gray hair and that blade with teeth." My voice sounding more frantic with each passing word. "Those people, all those poor people. That scar, that mark...why did I see that?"

For awhile neither of them say a word. Instead opting for sharing worried glances. The wind shifts direction and the dying leaves begin to swirl across our feet. Over their shoulders I can see the side door still half open and consider yelling for my boss. For some reason, I'm not sure why, but I don't. I merely sigh and keep my eyes firmly on the two strangers in front of me. Wondering how in the hell I got myself it such a situation.

Reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a red bandanna the shorter of the two men gingerly hands it over. For a moment I simply stare at it. Wondering if its doused in chloroform and I'll wake up hours from now god knows where. If I woke up at all. Still, the blood is beginning to spill from my grasp and down my hands. Slowly I take it for him and take a whiff before pressing it to my nose. Before my mind can tell me to move the shorter man has settled himself next to me. The fabric atop our shoulders brush slightly as he yanks at the bottom of his jacket. Situating himself.

"That man you saw was Cain, as in Cain and Able." He answers rather bluntly. His gruff voice strangely calm. Clearly not fazed by how crazy he sounds. Turning to face me he rolls up his sleeve to expose what appears to be a peculiar type of burn scar; yet, somehow I know it isn't anything quite so simple. Gazing at it feels like dejavu. I've seen it before. I know I've seen it. "This scar is his mark."

"Bullshit." The words fly from my mouth before I can catch up to them. My grasp on the bandanna disappears entirely and even though I can feel it sliding through my finger tips I'm powerless to stop it. Frozen.

Cain and Able, I know that story.

Practically everyone raised in the south knows that story. They don't call it the Bible belt for nothing. The man sitting next to me picks up the bloody piece of fabric and begins holding it firmly against my nose. Oddly considerate given the awful things I saw when I had accidentally touched him. If I had the energy perhaps I would've protested but I was way beyond the point of turning down random acts of kindness. No matter how screwy the situation.

Again the two men share glances. Somehow capable of communicating through shear body language alone. Whoever these two guys are, they've obviously known each other for what must be a long time. The taller one glances anxiously around the parking lot before pushing his fairly long hair aside. Bending down to my level he looks me in the eye. His are nearly the exact same shade as the other man's and I begin to wonder if they're related.

"I know this is hard to believe." He begins sympathetically. "But it's about as hard to believe that you got all that from just a single touch." Taking a deep breath he maintains his gaze while rising back to his full height. "What are you?"

Now it's my turn to be cross examined. Carefully I slide the bloody bandanna from both the man's grasp and my nose. Staring down at it for a moment. Noticing how the bits of white pattern have already began to turn crimson and blend in. I'm in a bad spot here. This could go so, so, horribly wrong. These men were complete strangers. Sure, I had taken a few self defense classes back in school but I knew better than to assume that I could hold my own against these two if necessary. Not to mention whatever it was that had happened back in the diner. Whatever I'm dealing with is completely new territory. So I do the only thing I could think of and probably the most illogical thing possible.

I tell them the truth.

"My name is Penelope Walker..." I begin. Struggling to find it in myself to say it out loud. To explain myself. To tell my darkest of secrets, to a pair of nameless men in the middle of a damn parking lot. Hell, I still haven't gotten my own mind wrapped around it entirely. I know, of course I know but the brutal truth of it always seems to get stuck in my throat. Gazing up anxiously between the two of them my heart sinks. I'm out of options. This time there was no far fetched excuse or flat out lie I could use to cover my tracks. Honestly was all I had at this point. "And I can hear your thoughts."

{End Prologue}


Decided to go back and do some reediting. No drastic changes. Just a few flourishes.

Thanks for the reviews/fave/follows. Y'all are awesome.

-Mary