A/N: Another chapter uploaded. Did you guys wait long? Haha, thanks for following along with this story. A thankful dedication to SweetzJunkie for her help on this chapter, though she didn't say much during the proofreading :P I've been thinking about ideas for this story a lot recently, even waiting in line for the studio tour at Universal Studios xD By the next chapter, you should notice the word I form together with each chapter title. I've been really eager to finish up this story, but I can only think of future events, but that won't work without anything to fill up the present. I hope this story stays interesting for you readers; thanks for reading, and remember to R&R, if possible!

Chapter 4 – T

The pieces all fit together. The day he first appeared in my life, the strange occurrences following, it all added up.

For the first time, I paid attention to his appearance. A long, deeply indented scar peeked out from under his shirt sleeve. I couldn't help but stare curiously at it, and that seemed to catch his attention. He suddenly sighed heavily, drooping his head down as if embarrassed. "You know…I don't usually wear short sleeved shirts, if you're wondering," he stated, turning to look at me.

"Um, actually, I was wondering more about that scar."

At this, a very faint tint of pink dusted his pale cheeks, and I almost grinned at this had my attention not been redirected back to his scar.

I stood up suddenly, wishing to drop the subject. A small raindrop landed on my shoulder, sending chills down my spine. Quickly following were herds of pelting droplets that threatened to drench me completely. Out of slight fear of getting wet, I rushed back to my original spot alarmingly.

A tiny chuckle escaped from my brother's mouth, and I sent him an unintended glare out of pure embarrassment for my actions. It was probably out of repayment for earlier, but he mumbled a few words.

"I didn't catch that," I retorted, not bothering to risk a glance at him.

"I said, would you like to hear a story?" He asked again, irritation evident in his tone.

Without waiting for my reply, he continued on.

"I was a past convict," he started.

My face probably displayed what I was feeling, for he released a small grimace.

"You've probably heard of me before during your days in prison. I'm known as N, short for Near." His eyes contained a faraway look, thinking back to his scarred past. "It's only been a while. Surely you haven't forgotten already."

How could I forget? We were transferred to the same jail, but were unfortunately separated to our gender. Near had been desperate to communicate with me to plan an escape. But how had he escaped? I asked this aloud, eager to hear his answer.

"I have connections," Near answered with an eerie grin.

I shivered at the sight, not able to imagine or remembering him to be this kind of person. After having one question answered, many followed. How had he known about our biological parents? He replied with a simple, mysterious, "Why do you ask? They're closer than you think."