My name is Shana. I would tell you my last name, but that could put my family at risk. See, horrible things are happening in this world. Horrible things that most of you have no idea are happening. Those of you that do know, well, you would try to kill me if I gave my last name. Maybe just enslave me, but you know what? I think I would try to do whatever would provoke you into killing me, just so I would never be enslaved again.

The rest of you are probably wondering by now, "Who is this girl? Why is she talking about being enslaved?" Well, let me clue you in.

Not so long ago, I was a normal teenager, at least kind of normal. A bit of a loner, but I was okay with that, for the most part. I went to school, went home, did my homework, went to bed. Rinse and repeat. If I went anywhere, it was usually because my parents took me, or they insisted I go out. Seriously, they actually begged me to go to the mall one time, just because they thought I might meet someone there and become friends. They never quite understood that I did not mind being alone.

Then came the day I would never be alone, but that is jumping ahead in the story.

It all started one of those days at school. I was walking to my locker, in between classes, totally inside my own head, and I ended up plowing into quite possibly the offspring of some minor deity. Lucas. Not quite a jock, not quite a prep. One thousand percent perfect. Golden brown hair, brushed in a way to look neat, but casual. He somehow found a way to make a short-sleeved button up shirt paired with khakis not look nerdy. Green eyes that seemed to swallow you whole. Did I mention his smile? He always looked like he had just finished laughing, with maybe a hint of cocky, but he earned it!

And what did I do?

Collided with him like I was trying to stop him from taking the ball into the endzone.

And what did he do?

Smiled at me, and held my arms, bracing me to keep me from falling. Somehow, I managed to sputter an apology, and then just stood there looking dumb as Lucas walked away. Furious with myself, I stormed to my locker. I wrenched it open, and caught a glimpse of myself in the little magnetic mirror inside the door. I stared at myself, wondering for some reason if Lucas would even be attracted to me. We both had green eyes… That had to count for something, right? I had short, black hair, cut sort of in a shaggy pixie style. Maybe I was pretty, maybe sort of plain. I never really thought of it before, but now I was, just because I had made contact with Lucas.

Oh, how I wish I never laid eyes on Lucas.

Or Kassidy.

Anyway, I spent the rest of the day thinking about those few seconds where I collided with Lucas. Except for a few times when I managed to actually pay attention to what my teachers were saying. By the time I got home, I had played that scene over and over and over until I could recite every second. Describe every breath in detail.

"Hey, Kiddo!" my dad called to me as I walked in our apartment.

"Hi, Dad," I said, sounding more glum than I intended.

"What's wrong?"

"Just teenage angst," I said, trying to sound smart, and mature. I have no idea why. Dad shook his head, and turned his attention back to his computer. He was always working on his computer. Whether it was stuff for his job, or stuff for himself, it was always on the computer. Something about astronomical chemistry, or whatever. Way over my head.

As usual, I headed to my room, put my headphones on, and started listening to music probably louder than I should. Then I set into my homework, until my mom popped her head in, and made gestures with her hands like she was eating. I looked at the clock, and realized it was already dinnertime. I took the headphones off, and made my way to the table.

"How was your day, Sweetie?" Mom asked.

"Angsty," Dad said with a smirk. Mom rolled her eyes, and shoved a forkful of food in her mouth.

"I heard about an event at the mall, it's supposed to be all the rage for kids your age," Mom said after swallowing.

"Mom…"

"You might enjoy it…"

"I have plans."

"With a friend?"

"With my bedroom," I replied. I turned my attention back to my food.

"Angsty," Dad repeated, and Mom shook her head.

In that moment, I wished they would just let me be. Why were they always trying to make me into something I am not?

Before the week was out, I would be dying to be back in that moment.