Hey guys, so I haven't updated anything in a super long time (years!), and I've recently decided to get back into writing, so I'm updating all my stories little by little. Here's the new chapter 1!

I was all alone, this I knew well. There was no one else like me in this asylum, no one that was aware; awareof what the truth was about all of us. For days on end I could recall sitting in the dark of my square, green-walled, one-lamp-chair-bed-and-desk room pondering what I would be doing that moment if I had been smart enough to not get sent here. Smart enough to keep my mouth shut and duck my head when weird things occurred. Nothing ever came to mind though, and nothing ever would. Even before I was checked into this place, I was alone. They all thought that I was crazy. And it appears that maybe I am. At least I probably wouldn't be here otherwise.

I kept notebooks and pens all about me, ever since I was a kid. Every time I saw something unexplainable, heard something I knew wasn't said, had dreams with places and faces I knew didn't exist I would take to my notebooks and write. At first, my mom thought it was just a creative mind. But then weird things came about; my shadow would stay in the same place even after I moved, I would burst out screaming at the most odd times (the middle of a meditation class was not the time to scream, apparently), and most often than not I was found talking to a wall as if it was a person. That's what led my parents to make the decision to admit me to the nuthouse at the ripe old age of fifteen.

The most recent entry in my notebook consisted of a dream of a man with glasses and stark white hair telling me to jump.

"Ms. James, you have a visitor." I jumped in my seat at the sound of the harsh voice of my nurse Susan. I must've not heard the door open. At the news of a visitor – probably another "specialist" - I closed my notebook and put it in the one-drawer mahogany desk with one question storming its way through my head; who is visiting me of all people? I mean, it certainly wasn't any of my family. To them it's like I didn't even exist anymore. Not a single visit, phone call, or letter in the three years I've been here. This was definitely intriguing. I walked over to the edge of my bed and sat down, not looking into the blaringly bright hallway in an attempt to not be momentarily blinded. I heard quick, heavy footsteps before the door opened wide and then was shut quickly, like the person thought I would try to escape. Or to prevent someone from getting in.

"Alexandra." It was a man's voice. He said my name as if he knew who I was, in a caring, yet somehow stressed tone. I waited for him to begin speaking again, but he didn't make another sound. Feeling unnerved, it surprised me to hear my own voice speak up first.

"Who are you, and what do you want?" I jumped a little at the sound of my voice. It sounded so faint, broken by lack of use, and it sounded as if I had swallowed rocks.

"I am no one you need to know." He paused; I waited for further explanation with my head pointed towards the grimy, scuff-streaked floor, wondering why he was here.

"I am here to tell you of your past, present, and your approaching future, Alexandra. You are not who you think you are." I looked over at the man standing in the left corner from me, trying to identify his features, but his face was hidden from me by the darkness of my cell-like living quarters. I sat still, trying to figure out what he was talking about. I mean, I don't know this man, how could he know who I am? He had to be another patient, believing he could see my future, taking the nurses mistake of leaving my door open to slip inside a place never been. But then again, he did know my name. As I sat and thought all this time was passing as if hours had gone by, in reality it couldn't have been more than just a few minutes. I spoke again, unable to hold back my questions.

"What do you mean? I am no one important, I know that much. I bet you're just another one of my mind tricks, or another patient. You probably aren't even real!" It scared me, how much he made me feel as if I had to say something. I hated speaking to anyone so the compulsion to do so left me a bit stunned.

The man spoke again, stumping me and helping me stick to my claim that he was another patient here. "Alexandra, you greatly underestimate yourself." He paused again, but all I did was stare blankly at the wall in front of me. He sighed in exasperation and then continued, "Your past is very complicated, and tragic. Your parents left you, abandoned you, I know. But do you know why?" I shook my head.

"It was because they knew of what you were to be, what you were already becoming in front of their eyes. They knew they wouldn't be able to contain you if you were left without restrictions. They sent you here, in the hopes that you would never learn of your fate. That you would never discover that you have powers beyond imagination.

"I know it seems impossible, but believe you me; I'm only here to tell you the truth. Why do you think you can see what people cannot? Why you can hear voices? Dream of places that do not exist? It's all a part of who you are. You are a Hunter, Alexandra. And you come from a long line of them. I'm here to bring you back to your home, to get you out of here."

I stared the man down. Sensing him glaring me down, I turned my head back towards the floor. So he knew why I was here; good for him. What the hell could he possibly mean I was a Hunter? What the hell even is a Hunter? And for as far as getting out of this place, well I'd be damned to see pigs fly the day that happens.

I sat there for what seemed like an eternity, almost 100% certain I was dreaming or hallucinating, there was no way any of this conversation actually happened. When I finally looked up again to convince myself that it was all fake, I was briefly disappointed to see that the man was gone, then did a double take as I couldn't fathom what I was seeing standing in the man's place; There was what seemed to be an unusually huge wolf blinking at me. I jumped back to the wall, and rubbed my shaking hands over my eyes, hoping that it would make the wolf disappear. No luck when I looked again, so I repeated the action for a few moments longer. When I finally decided to brave another glance, the wolf was gone. Shaking myself off, I wrapped my arms around my sheath-gown covered middle, laid down on my bed, and willed sleep to come.

And then the dreams came…