In This Kingdom by the Sea

Prologue

An Introduction

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"There are certain themes of which the interest is all-absorbing, but which are too entirely horrible for the purposes of legitimate fiction."
—Excerpt taken from Edgar Allen Poe's, The Premature Burial

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For as long as she could remember, she had believed in things others didn't. Pixies dancing in tiny mushroom circles, shimmering golden-dusted wings flittering in a skipping ballet. Wolverines yipping and calling for their soul mates, howls twining amidst the silvery, twinkling stars. Sirens singing their soliloquies of mourning beneath the violently lapping white-crusted waves of the deep blue. And others, for there were yet so many undiscovered and hidden from prying human eyes she knew not of.

Perhaps it was in imagination where her belief stemmed from. But, then again, many mortals had a likeness to her mind's eye or even went above what her conscious dreamed up beyond the limits and boundaries of reality. Which led to the truth that, conceivably, her faith came from the fact that she saw things others didn't—couldn't.

And that made her a believer.

It also made her different.

To be honest, Annabel Lee did not really know why she had been gifted with strange and unique abilities. It didn't stop at just seeing and perceiving the supernatural, either. Ever since she could remember, people appeared before her as their true selves, bereft of the masks of deceit that fooled others and protected them from the scorn of what the legitimate might entail. Nobody could hide from her all-knowing gaze—their hearts were hers to dissect of truth and lie, good and evil, joy and sorrow.

This was one of the main reasons she preferred the company of solitude more often than not.

However, Annabel wouldn't trade her Sight for the world. It was more often a curse than a blessing, but it was a part of her, a demon she had fought and overcome throughout her entire seventeen years. Even if convenience deliberated its dismissal, she'd never willingly give it up—her eyes and intuition were her greatest adversaries, a safety net that protected her from the falsities of sentient creatures.

So no, she'd never freely go blind. Even if some of the things she saw haunted her dreams…and chased her in reality.

Absentmindedly, her fingers came up to touch the thick, jagged scar on her temple, trailing its length all the way down her cheek to where it tapered off at the edge of her jaw. The tissue felt rough and obtrusive beneath her fingertips, and she knew it was big, white, ugly, awful, and eye-catching against her lightly tanned skin. Upon meeting, it was always the same—first, the eyes, surprise, admiration, then the scar, disgust, pity. Always. Always. Always.

She hated it.

A grimace twisted her pretty face, contorting her features as hazy memories of the Incident flashed across her mind. She shivered despite the sweltering California temperature, blocking out the rushing images of rain and blood mixing on the middle school blacktop and fear, always fear, because she couldn't run away, she wasn't fast enough, she wasn't strong enough, she'd never escape, nev—

"Annabel!" The sound of a man's voice jolted her from her reverie and she turned to see Ethan, her older brother, standing at the edge of the beach, just inside their property. He was tall, almost abnormally so with a height close to seven feet, but with the demeanor of an angel, the essence of a "gentle giant". Clad in a casual shirt and tie, he gave off a feeling of comfort and serenity, something she loved about him.

Scrambling to her feet, Annabel slapped the sand from her hands and thighs before grabbing her board to make her way over to Ethan. The weight of her twinfin was familiar in her grasp as she meandered up and over the sand dunes, between the break in cakile, more commonly known as sea rocket.

Ethan opened the wooden gate for her, sending her a smile that she instantly knew was false. A heavy feeling of foreboding settled in the pit of her stomach as they headed towards the cottage. His aura was weighed down by exhaustion and anxiety, a sliver of guilt peeping into the tie-dye of emotion as well. Cautiously, she asked, "What's up, E?"

Annabel leaned her surfboard against the porch steps, careful not to be too rough with her prized possession. She heard a sigh from beside her and turned to see Ethan standing in the doorway. Motioning her inside, he said, "Come on in, Bells. Go shower and we'll talk during dinner." His voice revealed how tired he was; eyes squeezed shut as he kneaded the bridge of his nose.

Annabel reluctantly nodded, heading for the poster-covered door several feet away. Though small, her bedroom was painted a docile powder blue, giving the effect of a larger space inside than what there truly was. A mattress, swathed in soft grey sheets, lay unmade against the far wall beside a small, circular window looking out across the expansive beach. Several miniature pots of primroses bloomed along the sill, little white pin flowers opened like diamonds amidst the green shrubs. A curved, cylindrical silver wind chime hung shining from the top pane. Three sticks of sex wax sat haphazardly atop a white-painted dresser along with a stack of clumsily arranged comic books (X-Men, Punisher, Iron Man, etc.), all well taken care of.

She opened the bottom drawer, pulling a clean sports bra and cotton panties from within. Grabbing a large Maui and Sons tank top for bed, Annabel moved across the hall to the bathroom. She stripped off her bi-color Madnights one-piece, turning on the shower with one hand. The warmth of the water beat pleasantly down her smooth back, washing away any of the residue she may have picked up whilst gallivanting in the West Coast. She was loathe to abandon the heated spray, but –albeit leisurely- she managed to step away. Ethan had something weighing on his mind, something that would affect her significantly if his strange behavior was anything to go by.

Shutting off the water, Annabel wrapped a large, feathery towel around her dripping frame. Wiping the fog from the large square mirror above the sink, she stared at the girl looking back at her. Cobalt eyes, a beguiling ring of sky blue around the pupil, were narrowed, framed by long, sweeping eyelashes, set upon a sharp-angled face with arching sculpted eyebrows and high flushed cheekbones. Her lips were big, too big, shaped like a bow and tinted a dark purple-red, perpetually turned in a pout. Slick wet Aurora gold hair, smelling of vanilla and Shea, fell in a short bob to the middle of her swan-like neck, the ends heavily layered and messily chopped.

Scowling at her reflection, she turned her head away. I look like a damn pin-up girl! A scarred one…with an athlete's body, zero curves and a height of five foot four, but still!

An unladylike grunt escaped her lips past gritted straight teeth and she violently dressed, tugging her shirt down to mid-thigh where it draped. I never really cared about appearances, but come on! This is just ridiculous! All this does is give me false and unwanted hope. Heaven forbid a boy talk to me. All they want is one thing I definitely will not give them and when they realize that, they leave!

She hung her head, playing with a stray strand of hair on the counter. What happened to childhood, where boys could be friends without hitting on me, where they didn't care if I liked comics and was just as active, if not more, than them? Damn, I miss that freedom…

With one last glance in the mirror, she ruffled her hair, not bothering to take the time to style or even run a brush through it. It would dry silky and straight no matter what anyway, convenient considering it was almost always wet from sweat or the ocean.

Maneuvering into the kitchen-dining room, her nose picked up the heavenly aroma of pepperoni pizza and fresh garlic bread from the local family-owned pizzeria, Ego-Cheestic. Stupid name if there ever was one, but delicious nonetheless. Instinctively, her tongue darted out to lick her plump lips, eager to eat the well-prepared, unhealthy food. Annabel barely noticed Ethan's dejected visage, picking at the sole roll on his plate, fingers tugging the fluffy bread into small, cloud-like pieces. Serving herself two slices and grabbing two garlic rolls from the insulated bag, she sat across from him, devouring the cheesy Italian food with gusto.

Surfing always left her ravenous, so she only rode the waves several times a week, leaving the other afternoons free for miscellaneous excursions in exploring the rocky coasts for tide pools and dribbling a soccer ball for hours on end. All of which –coincidentally- left her equally as hungry…Oh well.

Glancing up, navy blue eyes clashed with hazel, communicating the passing of the proverbial "Talking Stick". Annabel leaned back in her seat, body language open, suggesting for Ethan to begin speaking his piece. Internally, she braced herself, building up her mental and emotional barriers for protection. The news had to be astronomical if her brother was so serious.

He didn't disappoint.

"We're moving."

The blonde stilled, muscles clenched tightly. Her eyes deadened with confusion, face falling. Moving. Moving? Moving. Leaving. Departing. Going. Moving.

Moving.

"Why?" Annabel asked, voice small and hesitant, childlike in its utterance; like a girl wondering why her pet ran away from home, innocent. If only the vultures could see the big, bag Annabel now. They'd descend upon her like a pestilence, wearing their ultra miniskirts and tiny, revealing shirts, talons bejeweled in rings extended to hurt. It wasn't often the resident loner showed weakness, vulnerability, after all.

The older man –by almost 25 years- ran a hand through his light brown hair, agitation and apology rolling off him. "Apparently, the local school has one too many physics teachers. I've been transferred to a new city, a new school. Summer's just started, so I have time to look at houses and fill out all the paperwork before the new year starts. We should be out of here in a couple weeks."

Annabel said nothing, mind working double time to process all that he was saying. Ethan continued, taking her limp hand in his. "I know we've lived here all your life, Bells; I know it's your home…But Santa Carla's right on the beach as well, so you can surf and play just like here. I'll even look at properties on the coast. The Boardwalk is supposedly fantastic with an all year carnival."

Slowly, the seventeen-year-old nodded, letting out a breath, reluctant but accepting. Ethan had done so much for her. How could she protest? It wasn't like she'd be leaving any friends behind. "Okay…Okay, Ethan. I'll start packing right away."

Getting up to leave, Annabel washed and dried her plate, steadfastly ignoring her brother's knowing gaze. She stopped at the doorway as E's voice rose up again, "Hey…Bells…" Looking back over her freckled shoulder, she waited, listening. "It won't be so bad…This will be good for us. A new start. I promise."

He meant every word, she knew, but there was still something ultimately wrong. She gave him a tremulous smile, slipping away quietly. The foreboding feeling never abated, even as she climbed into bed later that night and tried to sleep.

Somehow, Annabel knew this move would change everything. Ethan didn't know just how different his sister was from others, believing the half-assed lies she'd conjured up about why she had no friends and how she got her injuries…

A yawn echoed from her as her eyes grew heavy with growing fatigue. Ethan thought she was just shy and extremely clumsy…But, in truth, I'm…

Her eyes fluttered shut and all she knew was darkness.

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Two weeks later, the house was sold, the moving truck had come and gone, and the duo made their way to Santa Carla, the murder capital of the world.

Neither would leave the same.

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A/N: Hi y'all! New obsession equals The Lost Boys. Hence, a new fanfiction that I'm really excited about. I think it's going well so far. I mean, I've already started writing the next chapter and I'm not even a little bored with it! That's an achievement for sure…Anyway, if you have the time, please leave a review! Constructive criticism is always welcome. I have no beta, so if anybody catches a mistake, do tell!

Love. Love. Love.

Kiss. Kiss.

~Alice