"Why did you bring me here?" Natalie's voice cut through the room. Her hand skimmed the top of the armoire caking her fingers in dust.

The walls were chipped, cracking in several areas, and oozed the faded gray paint. There was no sign that this room had been used recently. It was layered in dust that tickled my nose and filled my lungs. The only door was clattered in graffiti, nearly invisible behind the scratches.

Natalie's eyes darted nervously around the room. The glow from the candlelight illuminated her face, showing the weariness sketched plainly on it.

Her eyes settle on the haunted eastern wall. The candles covered every inch of the room except a small circular path in the middle of the cement floor. The light was blinding but I was shocked to see a figure, shrouded in darkness, against the wall. It appeared to be a silhouette, a shadow.

The heat inside the enclosed space caused sweat to dampen my forehead. Wax and crumbling wall filled the air.

I watched the figure approach Natalie. His stance was predatory like a tiger circling his prey. He was tall but he kept close to the wall—away from the light—so that I couldn't see his face. His shoulder made a rustling sound against the wall.

The shadow—for he was still a shadow to me—gripped Natalie's shoulders and pinned her against the wall with an audible thump that brought dust flying in every direction. He leaned in toward her neck and breathed her in. The scene seemed strangely intimate, I felt like an intruder for being there.

His hands were on the wall trapping her in that position. With the candles on the floor their feet seemed to be dancing in fire. Her face had a reddish glow from the reflection but his was strangely still shadowed.

He let one arm fall and reached slowly behind him.

"What is it?" Natalie replied hoarsely. Mischief sparkled in her eyes. I was surprised she wasn't worried about having sneaked out. All her face showed was elation.

Natalie had never sneaked out; she was always too scared about the consequences. But I guess there was something about rebelling with a guy that held her appeal.

In the moonlight a dreary room could be transformed into a lover's palace, I suppose. Mix in candle light and you have a fairy tale worthy getaway.

She looped her arms around his neck and pressed her face against his chest. Her neck tilted upward in serenity.

I saw the glint before I realized what it was. The light had reflected perfectly in that moment against an object in his hands. He held it professionally by the handle, and before I could scream he gave one swift jab against the pulse in Natalie's neck.

She didn't even see it coming. As her body slumped onto the gray floor, knocking over several candles, her face still held that peaceful look of serenity. A light smile was on her lips, a ghost of the happiness she was feeling.

I looked in panic towards the door. How long would it take me to run to it? How long before he caught up to me? The chances weren't in my favor. I was never the fastest runner. And with his tall stature, he would surely out run me.

He had his back to me and dragged Natalie to the circle. I couldn't move. Fear clogged every one of my pores. What would he do with me? Was I to take part in this as well? Did he need two young teenage girls, was that the point.

I didn't want to figure it out if that was the plan.

He didn't seem to notice me; he just kept on working, as if no one was there, as if I didn't exist.

He spread Natalie out on the circle and leaked her dripping blood onto a bowl.

The scene was too much for me. I ran like a fool to the door. My hand reached out to grab the rusted doorknob but they caught hold of soft plush instead.

I jumped into a sitting position; sweat dripped down my face and drenched my shirt. I recognized the baby blue walls even in my darkened haze.

I had a fist full of my Elmo doll, which I'm sad to admit I still sleep in, and felt myself immediately relax.

It was just a dream, a horrible nightmare. But this one was clearer I could almost see his face.

I searched around my room for my favorite jeans. They were worn, ripped and had coffee mug stains on it. I'd bought them when I was thirteen and amazingly they still fit.

I spotted them under my bed and stooped down to pick them up. I quickly slipping them on; nearly tripping in the process.

I ran a hand across my hair and felt my curly mess. It was tangled in its usual thick snarls ensnared within layer of dark hair that only a flame thrower or a battle ax had any chance at fixing.

I put it up in a sloppy bun not even bothering to make it look better. It was too much hassle that I really didn't need.

As soon as I was somewhat acceptable I half stumbled down the stairs, my eyes more asleep than awake. I had to reach out and feel my way to the kitchen. Flashes of red would creep up and cloud my vision. The creamy white walls would be replaced by gray ones when I would blink. It was all too confusing to keep track of.

When I came into the kitchen my stomach gave a vicious growl when it spotted the pancakes my mother had made on the counter. Nothing sounded better than pancakes with butter and syrup. Not exactly healthy but it was extremely delicious.

My stomach gave one last snarl before it turned upside down the second I stuffed a forkful of pancake in my mouth. I had to spit it out. I almost retched in the process, the food that looked so delicious not but 30 seconds ago looked grotesque now.

All I saw was moldy pancakes and butter puss drowned in urine—which was syrup but it looked like urine. My stomach heaved in protest at the sight of it.

I threw it out in the trash. The rotting garbage filled my nostrils with its putrid smell and brought tears to my eyes. My appetite was completely gone.

"Why are you throwing perfectly good food in the trash?" Mia, my older sister, asked. It was just my luck that she happened to walk into the kitchen when I was throwing my food away.

She cocked her left, perfectly tweezed, eyebrow in question and crossed her arms, waiting for my response.

What was I going to tell her, I saw rotting food but it's really all in my head? I gave her the most plausible reason I could think of.

"There was a bug in it." Which could totally happen.

"Eww. That's disgusting." She gagged.

She always gagged. For Mia everything that didn't go with her perfectness was disgusting or gross and should be destroyed immediately.

I knew; I had to live with her for the past 16 years.

"Well I'm not going to eat anything." She decided. She gave me one last glance before leaving the kitchen, but I noticed that her eyes were wary.

Mia had brown hair the same medium shade as mine, but hers was silky and straight totally tame unlike my curly mess. She had a twig skinny body with big boobs that every girl envied. But I think she secretly desired my curvier body because she always seemed to hate it when our aunts complemented my hourglass figure.

I waited in the empty kitchen until I heard Mia's voice call me.

"Rose hurry up we got to get to school." She was already halfway out the front door, the lines of impatience visible on her face.

She was always in a hurry to get to school; too bad it was for the wrong reasons. She was most likely in a hurry to go suck face with Jesse or Ralph or whoever was her latest snack of the weak.

I have a theory that all she eats is saliva because the only thing I have ever seen in her mouth is some guys tongue. Disgusting: Yes, very.

I ran out of the house in time to see the rising sun glimmering over the tops of the neighborhood trees; it was a beautiful sight but its beauty was tarnished by the sight of my sister in the driver seat.

She never lets me drive, even though the Toyota was technically both of ours.

"I'm coming, don't worry, his saliva won't dry out just because you're not there to suck it."

Mia answered by rolling her eyes and flipping me off. Oh how classy.

"Just get in Ro Ro."

Not that name, she knew that name was like the B word to me.

Her eyes looked me up and down when I got in before distain overtook her features. Her nose wrinkled up as if she smelled something bad.

"What?" I was tired of her complaining about my horrible outfits—her words not mine.

"You're dressed like that and you still have to ask why I'm looking at you like this." She sniffed. She pulled the car into reverse and started driving before she continued. "I think I should be asking how hard you got hit in the head when you were a baby because something is clearly not normal."

I couldn't understand what the big problem was. I mean sure I wasn't wearing short skirts and sparkly tank tops like Mia always does, but my black band shirt and combat boots weren't completely odd, right?

"Just shut up and drive." I told her.

"Will do sista, will do."

The car elapsed into silence, like always. There was a gap between Mia and I; a space that was no longer filled. We used to be close. There was a time where you would find us leaping through trees and hanging on branches like monkeys. We were best friends, but I guess blood thins and water thickens.

I stared out of the car window the remainder of the ride so I wouldn't be tempted to ignite another argument. Call it family problems but I loved the sight of my sister with her nostrils flared ready to pitch a fit. It was funny.

Instead I concentrated on the houses. That was safer. I watched the colors of each house blur together with the next so that it looked like one giant paint tablet. The last of the street lights was looming brightly against the rising sun and the cracks from the plastered gray walls—

I tore my eyes open with a shock, not aware that I had closed them to begin with.

"What the hell is a matter with you?" Mia asked. I saw the slightest bit of worry in her eyes before she turned them back to the road.

"I'm fine, just thinking."

"Well don't since you can't seem to handle the simple action of thinking. You'll probably fry your brain from the exertion." She tried to joke. But I heard the concern laced in her words.

"Ha Ha. Very funny," I replied dryly. It actually kind of was and if she hadn't been ripping me I would have laughed—a real one, not the fake one I gave her.

We elapsed back into silence and didn't talk again for the remainder of the ride. It would have been excruciating if the radio wasn't there to fill up the silence.

Mia parked in her usual spot, which she insisted was the cool parking spot. Then, before anyone could see us together, she bolted out of the car. It was the same ritual she did every morning even though we had the same first period. It would make sense for both of us to walk there together but she couldn't risk getting caught with me. It hurt at first but I got used to it because with Mia it was all about doing things the "cool" way.

She sat on the "cool" tables. She went to the "cool" bathrooms—which I though was stupid because why would there be a cool bathroom if you're just going to use it not host a pageant in it—she hanged out with all the cool people.

She basically ran the school with her pretty face; every guy seemed to bend at her mercy when she fluttered her fake lashes. And the girls followed her around like lost puppies feeding on her crumbs. It was pathetic.

Which was why she could not jeopardize her "coolness" by being seen with me, the social leper who was dubbed a freak since middle school.

You see, our relationship was perfect till that fateful moment in sixth grade when everyone decided I wasn't worthy of being normal.

It's not like it was my fault. I just never seemed to fit in with the "normal" crowd. Even Christian, my best and only friend in the world didn't seem quite in tune with me. And he was a freak just like me.

I took my time getting out of the car, exaggerating the movements. Mia shot me a glare but I didn't care. It was her social status at risk, mine couldn't get any lower.

I clutched my bag against my chest and braced myself for the hellhole I was about to enter—school.

The front of the school was swamped with people all waiting to the last minute to enjoy their bit of freedom. I walked to the front of the crowd and watched it part like the red sea.

Of course no one would want to be pressed against the town freak.

I passed through like a criminal waiting to be judged. They all looked the other way when I made eye contact like some unspoken rule that dictated against meeting my eye. It was times like these, when the air was so thick of tension it was clouding my vision and when the silence was so loud my ears were ready to burst, that I felt like a true freak.

I pressed my nails so hard against my bag I thought I might have ripped it, but I had to relieve my tension somehow. My eyes searched around from person to person, my hands got clammy with perspiration. I never did like being surrounded by people. I always felt like at any moment a dog pile would happen and they would suffocate me under the smell of dirty shirts and sweaty socks.

I barged in through the front doors, relieved for once to be in school, and hyperventilated in the hallway. I bent over and put my hands against my knees to try and catch my breath.

I hated mornings.

My breathing slowly went back to normal—thank goodness—and I was able to get up from my hunched position. Class wouldn't start till another 5 minutes, so in true fashion I went to class the long way. I didn't have any reason to worry; my seat was always there when I got there. For whatever reason I was glad, that meant I didn't have to rush to class to snag a seat.

I walked in three seconds before the bell rang and sat down next to my desk partner, Mason. He had fiery red hair that stuck in every direction and freckles covering every inch of his skin. He was the only boy brave enough to sit next to me but even then he wouldn't talk to me. He kept his face facing forward, not even deviating a centimeter. That would have bothered me if I wasn't used to it.

I scanned the classroom in hopes of wasting time before class started. I hated this class—AP Calculus. The name alone made me want to barf but the bright side was worth it. If I passed this class then I wouldn't have math my senior year. I was the only junior in this class, everyone else were seniors. I guess that should make me some sort of a math whiz, which according to my test scores I was. But I hardly studied for this class so I have no idea how my scores got so high.

The class was cut up in its usual social ladder. The geeks were in the front where I was situated and the jocks, cheerleaders, and other "cool" people would sit in the back. I actually never got that. The board is always harder to see from way back so I couldn't get why the back seats were better but whatever, to all its own I guess.

My sister—a senior as well—sat in the back with her girlfriends. They always talked super loud as if everyone else was dying to here there conversation. As if we didn't have anything better to do than hear the conversations of petty girls. Their giggling voices seemed louder today than usual. Try as I may I couldn't block out their voices.

"Oh he's so cute."

"I know right."

"Why doesn't he look back here?"

Of course I knew they would be talking about him. My head moved toward the subject in question as soon as I thought of him and met a pair of chocolate brown eyes.

Of course it had to be him. The object of every girl's fixation. The person whom my sister and her idiotic friends could not stop talking about, the new boy Dimitri.

We don't get a lot of new students so when they do come it's kind of a big deal. But I think Dimitri would have been a big deal regardless.

He was hotness in the flesh—according to the girls in this school. And they made no secret how much they desperately fawned over him. But even I—the social leper—had to admit he was hot.

He had these dark brown locks and chiseled body that was noticeable even with his clothes on. And he was tall. Now I'm not very short I'm around 5'7" but this guy has a good foot on me. By my estimations he was 6'7".

Not that I fawn him, quite the opposite I completely ignore him. And that was hard to do considering that he goes to my school. You would have thought he was a celebrity by the amount of attention he was getting.

He wouldn't have caused this much commotion among the school if he had followed its natural setting. But for all his looks he didn't quite follow the social ladder. He could easily sit in the back. He had been invited by every single girl there, but he always declined with a simple shake of his head.

But here comes the kicker, that I have never told anyone about, that even I myself don't believe. Dimitri stares at me. He sits on the desk behind mine and I always feel his eyes on the back of my head.

At first I didn't quite believe it; I thought I might have something in my hair like gum, but I checked, twice. He did the same thing the next day to the point that I got fed up and stared right back at him. My hazel eyes stared right into his brown ones with an intensity that would make anyone else uncomfortable but he didn't flinch.

We would do the same thing every day like our own freaky form of conversation and today was no different. I looked into his eyes and he didn't look away, he merely cocked his eyebrow in challenge. He never looked embarrassed at having been caught staring. I had to break away first, I always break away first.

We never talk our staring is the only form of contact we share, which would seem like nothing if he did it to other girls. Point being he didn't, he didn't talk to anyone, boy or girl. All the girls who tried to approach him would get the cold shoulder, he wouldn't even spare them a glance.

Even my sister, the prettiest of us all, was shut down by Dimitri. He didn't even look at her.

But for all his efforts it seemed to have backfired. The girls seemed to be drawn to his aloofness. The mystery surrounding him made him sexy.

My sister—never one to back down—had already gone through four boyfriends to show Dimitri how much she was wanted. His answer was, well nothing. It was like he didn't even notice her; even though she was kissing her boyfriend's beside his table.

Frankly no one had heard Dimitri talk, he would just sit quietly next to Eddie, his desk partner, and stare into space or at me not that anyone noticed the latter.

Dimitri's handsome face was all business. His strong jaw was always set, he never smiled or looked pleased or showed any emotion. He was like stone.

If I was a normal girl I would be ecstatic that Dimitri—the hottest guy ever—was staring at me, but this is where my weird paranoia set in. I didn't trust Dimitri. There was something about him that struck a chord in me.

Dimitri arrived at this school right after Natalie disappeared. It could be merely a coincidence and I would have written it off if the dreams hadn't started on Dimitri's first day of school.

Hey guys. Hopefully you guys liked it. I'm probably going to be updating weekly. Review and tell me what you think.