Chapter 1:

My head is swimming when I wake up. 'Ugh, I must have had one too many drinks last night.' I try to survey my surroundings.

"Oh thank god, I'm in my apartment." Lifting myself off of the couch, I stumble around and look to see if anyone followed me home last night.

This isn't unusual for me. Most nights I perform at night clubs and bars. After I finish my set, I'll usually end up drinking and dancing the night away. But usually, I don't drink to the point where I can't walk strait. And I don't bring anyone home. Thankfully I find that I am alone.

I learned early on to always watch my back. There are creeps all around and I don't want to end up with one. I came up with my own set of rules a long time ago to keep myself safe.

Rule #1: Never accept drinks from anyone, not even your friends.

Rule #2: Make sure you have the address, phone number and first and last name of the guy before you go out with him.

Rule #3: Always have your cell phone and cash on your person at all times.

Rule #4: Always have some sort of weapon on you.

Rule #5: Never let your guard down

Those rules have been drilled into my head and heart. And almost all of the rules were necessary during my short life. My parents dumped me at the door of an orphanage when I was just six weeks old. The people at the orphanage tried tracking them down, but they had no luck. I didn't have many friends because I was that one 'weird' girl who was always in your life. No one wanted to adopt me. There was always something about me that made me unlovable for some reason.

Whatever. Music was my only escape. So when I was too old for the orphanage, I had already saved up enough to move to New York. Now I make my living by performing at small clubs in New York City. I'm still hoping to catch my big break. But until then, it's trying to steer clear of creeps at the clubs.

Somehow, I manage to stumble into the bathroom. I make a face at myself in the mirror.

"Ugh, I really over did it last night, huh?" Dark circles form under my eyes. My hair is crusty with what seems to be puke. A big, ugly bruises cover my right shoulder, collarbone and mars my right cheek.

'Great, I look even more like a freak now.' I peel off the layers of clothing that smell like liqueur. They land in a crusty pile at my feet.

I start running the bath water and scrutinize my image in the mirror again. Except for the bruises, I have perfectly clear skin that is an ivory color. It's a shocking contrast to my onyx curls. I have a slim build that is slightly curvy, and I am at least 5' 10", which is unusually tall for a girl my age. But my eyes, those are my best and oddest feature.

I don't exactly know why, but for all of my twenty-one years, they have changed color. And not the 'hazel eyes change color'. My eyes drastically change color, all according to my mood. It might have been one of the reasons couples didn't want to adopt me. Right now they're a dull grey, which means I'm sleepy. Sometimes I can't help but think, 'Is this the reason why my parents gave me up?'

The bath tub fills up. I test the water.

"Perfect." I smile to myself. Lowering myself into the tub, i start to scrub the vomit off. Finishing with my hair and body, I decide to sit for a while longer and soak. I think to myself,

'I wonder what it would be like. To have a family that loves me. To have friends that adore me. To have a guy that truly cares and understands me.' This is the last thing that crosses my mind before I close my eyes and drift off to sleep.