M for a reason, folks. Non-con, language, abuse and all that potentially damaging stuff. Twisted life, switched fact with fiction, and own nothing but Avaline and Liana.

1: Ruin Your Life

When Avaline Powers met Mark Calaway, she was eight and he was ten, pushing eleven. By extension, she had also met his little brother, Glen, who was six. She had met the brothers when their family had moved into the neighborhood, purchasing an old funeral home that had been on the market for a while. The previous owners had retired and it had seemed that no one would want to settle down in the relatively morbid house. At least, no one until the Calaways.

Avaline had always been a curious girl, and when the family had moved in, she had watched from across the street, from her driveway. She had been skipping rope when she spotted the two boys. One was around her age, with short curly brown hair, and the other looked to be a little older, and he had bright red hair, the poor kid.

She had given them a day before walking herself across the street, knocking on the door, politely introducing herself to their mother and then asked if the older boy could come out to play.

If their mother would have known that behind those sweet blue eyes and angelic smile, there was a little demon from hell residing in the body of a little girl, she would have said no.

As it was… she didn't.

"Your family is weird."

Mark had known Avaline for six months, and that had been long enough for him to realize that there was something odd about her. She was bossy, but most girls were. She was used to getting her way, and he had learned quickly that if she didn't get it, there would be hell.

Like the time she had wanted them to come with her down to the corner store. Mark had point blank said no. His bicycle chain had come off for what was probably the millionth time and he was too lazy to fix it, and Glen wasn't going without him. Glen was a mama's boy and still thought girl's had cooties. Mark was also too lazy to walk. No matter how sweetly Avaline had pleaded, he had held firm.

Eventually, she had pedaled off, pouting.

Mark had thought that was it.

The next day, he found the tires slashed on his bicycle.

That was the day that he learned Avaline Powers was… a little crazy.

"Why is my family weird?" He asked with a resigned sigh. They were sitting in his backyard, under the oak tree, sipping lemonade from his mama's least favorite glasses.

"Because… it just is. That uncle of yours…" Avaline's tiny nose wrinkled as she watched said uncle chatting animatedly with Mr. Calaway, Mrs. Calaway was hovering in the background looking like she hadn't put enough sugar in her own lemonade. "She always puts Glennie down for a nap when he comes over, why's that?"

Mark hadn't considered that, frowning slightly and finally shrugged. "I don't know."

"Like I said. Your family is weird."

"Freak! You're a freak, Calaway!"

Mark was eleven, he was used to being tormented, but that did not stop his ears from burning red. Nearly as red as his hair, and it showed, because he had large ears. He had spent a good portion of his life being called 'freckle face', 'dumbo', and a whole mess of other names. He was tall for his age, gangly, and his stupid hair and stupid ears didn't help his situation. He had been teased at his last school, in the last town they had lived in, so why should this place be any different?

"You leave him alone!"

It was different because of Avaline. She wasn't the best of friends, but she was his friend, probably his only friend.

"Ava and Mark, sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g!"

"C'mon Ava, let's get out of here." He scowled, around turning his bike around.

Ava ignored him, her fists clenched at her sides, blue eyes narrowed to icy slits. "I said leave him alone."

"First comes love, then comes marriage…"

"Ava… just forget them."

She bent down, plucking two decent sized rocks off the ground.

"Then comes a- OW! OW!"

"I said you leave him alone, Billy!" She threw the second rock, this one just as well aimed as the first had been.

All Mark could do was stand there, his mouth wide open, and stare at the blood that poured down Billy's dirty face. "Ava!" He didn't know whether to be appalled or grateful.

"He deserved it." She said flatly, staring at Billy impassively as he simply stood there, hands clasped over his forehead. "He deserves a lot more too."

Mark's grey-green eyes widened when she purposefully reached for a third rock, this one considerably larger than the first two had been.

"Do you know William Jasper?"

Mark had a hard time swallowing down his green beans when his mother asked him that and reached for his glass of water, forcing his hand to remain steady. "Sure…" He said slowly, dragging the tines of his fork through his mashed potatoes with his free hand. He took a long sip, hoping to put off whatever was about to be said.

"Poor boy is in the hospital with a serious concussion… apparently he was beaten up today, his fingers were broken and his head…"

She didn't know he had been there, and Mark felt both relief and guilt coursing through him. He had been there. He had seen what had happened. Ava had smashed that rock as hard as she could against Billy's hands, which had been cupping his forehead. She had been defending him, what was so wrong about that? It wasn't her fault she had underestimated her strength…

She was his friend.

3 Years Later…

"You're an idiot, Mark." Ava said with a shake of her head, her blonde pigtails flying with the movement. "Put those out before someone catches us."

"No one is going to catch us, Ava." But he put the matches out anyway, dropping them into an old coffee tin his dad kept underneath his work bench. They were bored, and it was too hot to really do anything, but both sets of parents had kicked the pair out of each house. His mom and Ava's had said pretty much the same thing "go outside and play." They had taken that to mean: go hang out in the garage where it is marginally cooler and still outside.

"This is boring." Garages were boring, and she had no interest in playing with matches. Not really. In general, coming to Mark's house was boring. There were parts of the house they weren't allowed in, and if there was a funeral going on, the entire street got quiet. Her mother called it 'being respectful'. "We should run away and join the circus."

"Why? So I can be laughed at some more?"

"You'd make a great clown." Ava snickered, taking the tiny box of matches from him, thumbing them thoughtfully. "We should do something, anything… we should run away someplace cooler."

"North Pole?"

"I want to be an Eskimo."

"Yeah, I can just see you… freezing yourself to death." He snorted, shaking his head in disdain. "You think it's freezing when the temperature drops below sixty."

"Shut your fat mouth."

"Aww… poor little Avaline, she's so mean, can't stand the summer time and can't stand the-" Mark shut his fat mouth when she raised a fist. He had learned over the past few years that while she was a little bit of a thing, she packed a mean wallop. "Fine… let's go down to the pool, how about that?"

She considered it, finally nodding. "Sure. Go get your stuff, and I'll go tell my mama."

Mark headed for the door.

"Hey, bring Glen."

"Not a chance." He snorted, not giving her a backwards look. "He's afraid of water."

Ava sighed when the door shut behind him, moving to put the matches back. She stopped when she spotted the gasoline container. "Hmm..."

Avaline stood side by side with Mark, watching as one by one his family was lowered into the ground. She could hear his weird uncle in the background, wailing something fierce, and tried to ignore him. Her cold blue eyes were near emotionless, her face pinched, and she hated that she couldn't block out Mark. He was trying to stifle his sobs, and he was failing. "It's not your fault." She whispered, sliding her hand into his, gently squeezing. "You didn't know…"

Mark hiccupped, returning the squeeze, and he looked away when he seen that tiny little coffin.

That tiny little coffin did cause something to course through her. Her own twinge of regret. That coffin held Glennie, or what was left of him. Maybe it was just his ashes. Did people bury ashes in coffins? She would have asked his daddy, since Mr. Calaway had been a mortician but…

Avaline had to lower her head, her shoulders shaking.

Thinking she was crying, Mark sidled a bit closer to her.

She was trying not to laugh.