Okay, so this size isn't all that different in size, but it is still larger than the last. Hope you like, and I absolutely love my reviewers! I hope to at least reach one hundred reviews for this story so please be nice and leave me a comment!

Chapter Three

It didn't come from me.

It came from Jonathon's friends gaping mouth. A friend that I didn't quiet recognise. Johnny always had friends over, as far as I was concerned. They were pretty harmless, and most of them welcomed me with open arms when I visited, but I couldn't remember all the faces.

"Close the door Marc." Johnny ordered as they stepped into the room. "Now, I want you to tell me what the hell you are, Izadrye."

I lowered my hands before lowering my face to the very interesting concrete floor. The concrete was followed by a royal blue rug. I hand was starting to burn, so maybe I had broken it. Well, I very well couldn't unclench my fist, because all the joint from finger tips and up were screaming in agony. I guess anger had been holding in the pain.

"I'm human." I whispered.

"Like hell!" He snapped. My head sprung up without an invite, my eyes feirce.

"And your going to tell me otherwise?" I growled. "What about you, Mr-abnormally-structured?" With my good hand, I indicated to his body-builder body.

"A gym does this to a body, Isadrye. If you went to a gym, you'd know."

"Like hell!" I mimicked. I took a step towards him, and he bared his teeth manically. "It took five of my fathers men to drag winged-dude just five feet from where they were standing. It took two of you to push him out of the car, and one of you to get him in the house, almost ten feet from the driveway. Explain that to me!"

"Your fathers men were weak." He spat. I glowered at him.

"Like. Hell."

"Then how did you get him in the car all by your lonesome self?" Johnny rose an eyebrow.

"He was able to walk at the time. Believe it or not, he got worse after meeting my father." My lips set into a grim line, re-memorising the events of today.

Without my hearing it, a disturbing, painful moan travelled down to the room. My mind was much too set with the memories, the anger, and the hurt to even pay remote attention to it.

"Oh, so the rest of your family is just as horrible as you?" He snickered. "Figures. No, wait, I bet your worse then them, I bet they can't stand the likes of you. I bet you get kicked around, constantly fought at, constantly getting in trouble because of your nature, or maybe they just ignore you completely, like some mistake."

That stung something bad. My eyes flickered to the ground; revolving quickly with the hurt, before snapping back up to his; emotionless. I am nothing like my family, but it couldn't stop the wondering thoughts. What if I was like my mother? Always comparing things? What if they were the perfect ones and I was to naïve to see it? What if I was heartless like my father, who wouldn't come to see me until I gave the call?

My eyes questioned him, asking him if I really was like them, was my mother right all along, that I was the troubling child who never cared about anyone but herself? Was I really the mistake?

For the life of me, I felt like bawling. My eyes sprung with new tears, but I willed them away. The burning within me spread, outlining my body by twice the multitude it had ever burned, it hurt horribly.

The fire constricted in my heart, clenching and unclenching its claws against me. When I looked at my arms, I could see the fire, the burning yellow, red and blue under my skin, growing like bone and spreading like blood. It was the one thing about controlling fire, everytime you looked in a mirror, you could see it. It was enough just to feel it.

Jonathon reached out to me, regret clear in his eyes. "Isadrye, I'm sor-" I felt hate. Johnny knew what my family was like. I never thought he'd compare me to them.

"There's a boundary to where you step, jonathon. Do remember that in the future." I stormed pass him, walsting pass many of his huge friends, and straight up the stairs where I could hear the soft breathing, and the occasional groan of the man.

A soon as the door closed behind me, the tears started to fall. Dropping onto the chair beside the bed, I placed my arms over his bare chest and cried onto them. Big wails could probably be heard from downstairs, but that did little to stop them. I never cry in front of people, even unconscious ones.

At some point the man must have awoken from his slumber, because he shuffled under me so he could reach up and grasp my head, soothing my hair with his free arm.

"I-I am nothing l-like them. I am n-nothing l-like them." I repeated like it would come true. "I-I am nothing l-like them."

"You are nothing like them." His voice was rough and alluring. It was still slightly pained, but it was better, much better. It made me wonder how long I had been throwing myself at the bag and arguing for. By the looks of it, it was around four hours, because pain endorphins wouldn't wear off for ages. My wailing wouldn't even wake up satan if he was as drugged up as this man was.

"Funny. You don't even know what I'm talking about, yet you agree with me regardless."

"Believe it or not, mon chéri, I know more of which you speak then you may think." He whispered. I took a breath, rising my head enough to look into his eyes.

"What are you?" I whispered in a breath.

"I am death." He answered. I sucked in a breath.

"I assume you weren't meant to be seen like this?" I said. "No wonder why I didn't see you when I hit you. I didn't think that you could be hit if you walked as a spirit. Death must be as hard as living if you need to watch your back. Although, even if you were hit by a car when your dead, I don't exactly understand how you can die once again."

"No Darling, I'm not the walking dea, I am death."

"I dont quiet understand." I answered honestly.

"Mon chéri, although slightly disfunctional at the moment. I am a Grim Reaper."