I know, I know, I know. I shouldn't be starting another multi-chap. I know I should be focusing on Miss Miami until it's complete before I start a new one. But I literally got this idea last weekend and it wouldn't get out of my head until I wrote it. This is during the American Civil War, and I got the idea from looking through my old documents and finding this. It was for school back a few months ago, and my teacher said that it was "a boring plot." So, this spurred out to prove her wrong. This is the only part that I wrote for my school; everything else will be written from scratch with Jarrett in my mind. I did change a bunch of stuff from the original though. Here's some info on the American Civil War in case you have no idea what it is...

The country at the time was divided into two parts: the Union (North, against slavery) and the Confederacy (South, for slavery). The setting is in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, where the Battle of Gettysburg (one of the biggest battles in the Civil War) took place. It is in the North, so the majority of people that live there are against slavery.

I hope that's enough. If not, please tell me, and I'll be sure to answer all of your questions.

I planned out everything, and I decided that this series will be a trilogy with 10 chapters each. I hope that sounds good to you :) Please enjoy!

*insert disclaimer here*

Note: That was intentional. XD

I looked out of my window. Loud yells, big booms, and commands slashed the once-silent air. Bullets zoomed past daring faces. It looked to me like dying was inevitable.

I knew my dad was out there, fighting bravely like any committed soldier would. I had always admired my parents for being brave enough to contribute to the war. My dad eagerly enlisted into the 14th Gettysburg regiment. My mom became a nurse for the Union army about a year later. She trusted that I could live alone; I was 14 at the time.

And yet there I was, in the sanctuary of my home, watching the Battle of Gettysburg unfold, and fearing that my life would be over very soon.

My dad was a big abolitionist. He always told me that the Confederates were evil and needed to be stopped. When Uncle Tom's Cabin first came out, he bought many copies of the book and traveled around the South to smuggle them into book stores. He also joined John Brown in his raid on Harper's Ferry, which proved to be unsuccessful (my dad was one of the lucky five to escape capture). And after that, he was in the army fighting for slaves' freedom. He was always adamant about his beliefs against slavery, and did all he could to contribute to the abolition movement.

And I agreed with him. Slavery was evil and should have been abolished.

My house was situated on a hill on the edge of Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. The only soldiers I could see on the hill were Yankees. All of the rebels were down below. I had thought it was some kind of plan the Union thought of: to claim the hill my house was built on. But I didn't know whether that was true or not. I wasn't a general, and was never planning on becoming one.

My eyes widened as they caught something. A familiar face: my dad. All I could do was smile when I saw him in his blue wool frock coat, the standard Union uniform. He was holding a rifle and was shooting downhill.

But then my eyes started to widen even more when I saw it. A bullet sliced through the air and hit my dad right on the eyebrow. He fell to the ground, his eyes popping out of his sockets.

"Dad!" I screeched, even though I knew very well that no one could hear me in my small house.

On impulse, I ran outside, clutching my teddy bear (it always gave me solace during hard times). The fighting seemed more dynamic than ever. Bodies dropping, bullets flying, commanders shouting; it was an action-filled scene. I ducked down, then I ran behind my house. I looked below the hill and saw a familiar white tent with a red and white striped flag with a blue rectangle and white stars. Immediately, I knew exactly who would be there.

"Mom!" I shouted as loud as I could, before running down the hill as quickly as I could without tripping and making a fool of myself. At that moment, I didn't care if any of the rebels heard me; all I cared about was getting to my mom as quickly as possible. I looked over to the white tent and rushed in.

"Mom! Mom! Dad, he was fighting, then… Mom!"

My eyes widened yet again to see my mom's dead body, along with many injured Union soldiers appearing dead as well. I heard some rustling grass, so I lied down and pretended to be dead as well. The smell of rotting blood engulfed me, and I almost choked from the horrid stench. But I tried to not budge one bit, as I heard voices approach me.

"We got all of them?"

"Yep."
The rustling grass came closer and closer to me, making it hard for me to stay still. It was tickling my ear quite a bit, and I found myself biting my lip subtly to stay still.

"How about this girl? She seems a bit… young."

"Doesn't matter. She's dead now. One less Union to worry about."

The rustling grass became fainter and fainter. I determined that it was safe to open my eyes, so I did. I then watched two men replace the Union flag with a red one with a blue cross and white stars. Confederates, I thought, my eyebrows furrowing in anger.

There was no one in sight a few minutes later, so I got up and left the tent. The humid air hit me. It was the beginning of July (July 3rd, to be exact), and the days were as hot as the blazing sun. Especially the days of the battle. The two sides started fighting here two days ago, on July 1, but the battle was still hard and strong. The fighting seemed to slow down a bit since then, but I still shuddered at the sight. I walked up the hill, dodging any bullet that seemed to come my way, to see something else.

My house was in flames. It was burning down by the minute, decomposing quickly, crackles echoing throughout the air. I felt a tear rush down my cheek as everything started to come to me.

My mom was dead. My dad was dead. My house was in flames. All because of the Confederates.

I was homeless. Alone. And I was certainly, without a doubt in my mind, going to die.

I was walking through the dirt streets of Gettysburg.

The only things I had was my teddy bear and the clothes I wore on the day of the battle. The battle… It was all I thought of these days. Thoughts of my mom, dad, and my demolished house kept rushing through my mind. The haunting memories wouldn't escape my mind, no matter how much I tried.

Worry would then wash through my body. What was I supposed to do? I didn't have a place to call home, unless the dirt streets counted as a residence. Where was I supposed to get food? Water? I felt like I was barely living.

And then anger took over. It was all the Confederates's fault. Why did they have to shoot my dad? Why did they have to take over my mom's tent? Why did they have to burn my house down? The Confederates were evil.

That cycle went on and on in my head, and it was getting very annoying. I had to at least spend a night indoors. Maybe then my mind would take a rest.

I turned a corner, the same corner I had turned at least 100 times. I was walking in circles. I wanted to stop; I needed to stop. But I couldn't unless I found a place to stay.

I couldn't keep walking in circles, hoping and praying that someone would see me, take pity on me, and let me stay at their place. I actually had to ask for it. I looked for a place that was open. Usually, at that time of hour, a lot of places were closed. But I kept my hopes high, crossing my fingers.

Then, I saw it. An open diner. Diners were rare to come by, but there were a few. I walked in and locked gazes with the lady standing in front. What was I supposed to say?

"Hi. How may I help you?" the lady beamed at me.

"I have no money." Internally, I slapped myself for my stupidity. Why would I say that?

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Okay, but if you don't mind me asking, why are you here?"

"I was hoping for a free meal?" It came out as a question rather than a statement. I was berating myself after I said that. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!

The lady smiled unsurely. "I'm sorry, but I can't let you do that."

I forced a smile. "It's fine." I then left the diner and looked around the street. Luckily, a clothing store still had their candles lit. I walked in, holding onto my last piece of hope and dignity.

"Hi. I'm out of money. Can I just have some clothes and call it an IOU?" Words weren't my ally that day.

"Um, we could trade," a man offered. "What do you have on you?"

I sighed, knowing that I lost at that moment. "Honestly, all I have is a teddy bear and these clothes I'm wearing." Or, in other words, some fluff sewn together and pieces of filth on my body.

"I'm sorry, but then no deal," the man looked apologetic at me.

"It's fine," I managed out.

I walked out of the store and turned the same corner and before, crying for the first time since the Battle of Gettysburg. I gave up. Sobs took over me, falling down as hard and fast as a waterfall. I couldn't take walking anymore, so I sat down on the dirt road, not caring whether my long light pink dress got dirty or not. My clothes were already covered in mud anyway.

I gasped for air. I was panting hard from all the crying. I hadn't cried this hard in a long time. I didn't even cry this hard at the battle. I was sick of crying. I told myself to stop, but that made the tears fall out even more intensely. I was getting annoyed at myself, but I couldn't stop.

"What is a beautiful lady like yourself doing out here this late?"

I looked up to see a man that seemed like he was in his fifties. I blushed at his comment a bit, but then made myself stop (which was oddly easier than making myself stop crying). I wasn't even that pretty. I had thick brown hair that was pin-straight and went to my waist. I had murky brown eyes, and dirt speckled my face so it looked like I had freckles (even though I didn't). I was pale, too pale for anyone's liking. I was as thin as a blade of grass. I was the shortest girl I knew. And, to top off my appearance, I was covered as dirt. Not pretty at all.

"I'm only 15," I informed him bluntly.

"That doesn't explain why you're here," he insisted. He was persistent. I had always respected a person that was persistent.

"Um, just admiring the night sky," I lied, my tears glistening from the moonlight. I took a good look at the sky, and it was actually quite beautiful. The full moon situated itself in the smack-middle of the night sky. Around it, the stars shined brighter than I ever saw before, even though my vision was blurred from the tears daring to budge out of my eyes.

"Quite beautiful, aren't they?" the man interrupted my thoughts. "The stars, I mean. I don't think I've ever seen them shine that brightly."

I nodded, finally agreeing with the mystery man. "Same here."

He turned to me. "Why are you observing the sky here? Wouldn't you want to be at your home to do that?"

I held in a glare, which was surprisingly easy with my tear-filled eyes. This man was starting to get on my nerves. "Just got out of work," I fibbed.

"This late?" he quirked an eyebrow.

"Yes," I stated. "Is that a problem?"

He sighed. "You're lying."

My eyes widened. How did he know?

"Everyone's eyes dilate when they're lying," he told me, as if he read my mind.

I stared at him, completely dumbfounded. This guy amazed me. He was much more intelligent than he seemed. How would he know that my eyes dilate? It was dark, and the only source of light was coming from the moon. Did he have night vision?

But I regained my composure. "So what if I was lying? It's not a big deal. Besides, it shouldn't matter to you."

The man sighed again. "It wouldn't hurt you if you told the truth. Besides, I can tell whether you're lying or not, which you have been for quite some time, so there's no true benefit. You would be wasting both of our times."

He had a valid point. And that bugged me.

"Fine," I succumbed to him. "I'm homeless."

There was a pause of silence. And it scared me. Did his opinion of me change? Well, his opinion on me was probably a bad one anyways…

Then, he finally said something. "For how long?"

"A week," I answered.

He nodded for quite some time, and then made an offer. "You can stay with me if you want."

I was shocked. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah!" he said a bit too eagerly for my taste.

"For how long?" I asked him, trying to be as serious as I could.

"As long as you need," he said with no hesitation.

I fought back a smile. What was I supposed to do? Yes, I desperately needed a place to stay, and he was offering me one. But he was still only a stranger. But, yet again, I was willing to trust the lady at the diner and the man at the clothing store, and they were complete strangers as well.

"Come on," he beckoned, noticing the long pause in my response. "Trust me."

"Trust is only a five letter word," I sneered, trying to keep his hopes down.

But somehow, before my thoughts were complete, I found myself saying, "Yes."

"That's great!" the man jumped into the air excitedly. His eyes then widened as he remembered something. "Oh, yes, I almost forgot. What is your name?"

"Jasmine," I said with no hesitation. I mean, he was going to house me. He deserved to know my name. "It's Jasmine. My name's Jasmine."

"Well, Jasmine," he started, emphasizing my name to remember it. "I will enjoy your company, and I'm sure my son will, too."

Wait, what? Son?

But before I could question it, he took my hand and started to drag me to who-knew-where.

So, there's the first chapter. The chapters will be relatively this long, so I think that I'll update this story quicker than Miss Miami. "Trust" will definitely appear throughout the story, so I hope you stick around. I really love Jarrett, so I'm excited to see how this turns out. May I please have five reviews? Thanks for reading, and I'll see you later!