A/N: This story has themes of violence, horror, self harm, rape (not explicit and only mentioned), and sex (again, not explicit).

This story is in an Alternative Universe to my other story, Unblinking Eyes. It is based on my OCs and the relationships between them, and you do not have to read that story to understand this one.

Chapter One: The Feather Girl

The air was hot and tasted bitter in my mouth. It tasted of metal; of blood. I could feel eyes on me as it happened- as the proceedings went down with the slam of a hammer. Dust swirled in my lungs. My body felt weak- like I was just a pile of bones and skin.

"Miss Hund!" Called out the judge, but it was done. I couldn't be in there any more. I couldn't bare their words on my brother, on my parents.

It was silent and I pushed open the door, walking out into the hall. I ran to the nearest bathroom and locked myself in, throwing up in the toilet. Not that there was much to throw up. I was rotting. Rotting from the inside out.

I braced myself against the cool wall, my eyes closing as I tried to breathe. Pieces came back to me in slivers. There was my brother... his parting words... his crazy blue eyes.

"They're not dead, Evelyn! They're not dead! I know it! You've given up- you always give up so easily! They're not dead!"

"Evelyn?" Came a voice outside the stall and my eyes flickered open.

"I'm fine." I said gently, though my voice was heavy.

"Alright." Said the female voice, and I knew it was my social worker. "I'll be outside." The door closed behind her and I sighed, sliding down onto the cold tile floor.

I could hear them. All their voices stuck in my head. Some of them were quiet- like a lullaby- whereas others were demanding and screaming. For so long now I thought I might have been the only sane one in my family... but I don't know if that's true any more.

"It's a nice place, Evelyn. And only an hour's drive from your grandparents. I'm sure June can take you there sometimes." Said Mary, who was my social worker. She was a thin woman with dark skin and black hair that stuck up around her head artfully. She always had this glow about her and it seemed everyone liked her. "Near the sea, too. Do you like the sea?"

"Go on then. Jump."

I nodded, looking at the brochure in my hands.

"It's going to be alright, Evelyn." Mary told me softly, and I glanced up, seeing her gentle brown eyes were gazing at me. We were in my temporary housing- part foster home, part hospice in down town Seattle. I hated it here. The paintings they put on the walls were too bright and the bed was too hard. The walls were a light grey like a prison cell, but I could imagine they were once white, and the small window looked down onto a scraggly garden of weeds.

Mary told me I'd have my own room. The house was large, and only took in special cases. I didn't know if that meant it was filled with difficult children and insane teenagers. But I supposed I would fit into that criteria.

We left Seattle Friday morning and I was relieved to see the back of it; but also terrified about Forks. Mary drove her blue Golf there and she played R&B music the whole ride. I twisted my palms in the back seat, my mind constantly going to my brother. Logan. He shouldn't be on my mind. He shouldn't. I tried to cast him out but he was a ghost. His words rolled over again and again, begging me to say them out loud, to voice his never-ending existence in my head.

I hated him. There had been a time when he protected me, but now he was looking for them, believing they were still alive.

I reached down to my ankle, pulling up my legging so I could get to the elastic band that was there. My eyes were trained on the mirror, making sure Mary wasn't looking at me.

Pang.

I breathed out in relief, snapping the elastic again and again, the hot pain springing up my ankle. I pushed my legging back down, sitting back, thinking only of the pain. Logan gently flickered away for now.

The car came to a stop a few hours down the line and I looked out my window to see a rather ordinary house. It was red bricked with white window sills and a veranda out front. There was a twisty tree on one of the front lawns. I glanced up to one of the windows and became still when I saw a girl looking out one of them and down to me. She looked my age, with long mousy brown hair. She looked for a moment longer, and then retreated inside.

"This house is over a hundred years old." Said June, the woman who ran the foster home. "St Claire's Home for Orphaned Children was founded in 1955 by Madam Debourne." She told us as we came into the hallway. June was young- I supposed she was in her early thirties- and she had short red hair which was curled stylishly. She wore robust clothes- dark jeans, a plain t-shirt and a sweater. Her eyes were green and they seemed to glow dimly.

"In 2007 it turned to a house for the more special children, like yourself." Her voice was gentle, but still authoritative. She sounded like a third grade teacher. "You've got a nice room," she continued, and we began up the dark oak stairs to the second floor. Everything was so clean. There was a chandelier over the hallway and it captured what little sun rays there were. The floor was wooden and I could hear every footstep we made. Mary was behind me, bringing up my small suitcase.

June opened the door at the end of the hallway on the right and led me into it. It was small but had a peaked ceiling and a window with a seat. There was a single bed to the side, an empty bookcase and a desk near the window. The room felt cold and unusual, and I wondered how many other orphaned children had lived in here.

Mary placed my case near the bed and she smiled at me before looking to June. "Evelyn loves to read- she has quite a few books already that can go on those shelves."

"Oh, wonderful." June said, and she looked me to me. "There are books at the school library, but they're not too brilliant. We can get you a card for the library in town."

I breathed in and went over to the bed, sitting down. "How many other children are here?" I asked. I didn't care for a library. All the words in those books would make me suffocate. I was fine with the few I had.

"Seven." June told me, walking to the door. "They are all mostly quite young, but there are a few your age. There's a girl across the hall from you- Catherine. But she tends to stick to herself."

I didn't want to make friends. I just wanted to know so I could deal with the number. I nodded, shuffling back on the bed until I was in the corner.

"Well we've got some things to discuss." Mary told me, and she came over, giving me a smile. "Then I've got to go. Will you be alright?"

"Yes." I said stiffly. "I n-need my allowance soon."

"I know." She said quietly. "Good luck, Evelyn."

She turned, leaving with June, and the door closed behind them.

I finally let it out- the silent sobs took me over. I tried to be quiet, grabbing fistfuls of my blonde hair, the tears dripping from my eyes. My stomach was in knots and I wrapped my arms around myself, rocking back and forth. Through my tears I could see him. Tall, wavy blonde hair, dark blue eyes.

"You're trying to forget me, Evelyn."

"L-leave me alone." I whimpered, pressing myself up to the wall. He edged closer and I could smell him. Blood. He smelt like blood and rust and decaying seaweed. He leant over me and I could feel his hot breath on my cheek.

"I love you, sister. But you're mine. Your mind is mine. No amount of harm to your body can change that." His words were quick and hushed. "I'll be there soon. I'll find our parents and then I'll kill them for what they did to us. Then we can be together; like we were always supposed to be."

Walking in the rain, I huddled under my coat, my hood covering me. It was dark and grey outside, the rain dropping steadily. It was freezing me but the burning cold kept me awake. In my pocket were the few crumpled bills that I had managed to get last night. Ahead, the lights of the gas station brightened the storm. Cars and trucks slugged by. The houses here were squatted and grey, rain flooding down the slanted roofs and streaming down the road. The shops were dull and the coffee shop sold bitter drinks. I couldn't bare to think what the school would be like.

Finally, I got into the gas station, pulling down my hood. I sighed, walking through, passing the drab shelves of canned meat and packets of chips. A few people were in there and they glanced at me as I walked up to the counter.

A Native American man looked up to me from reading a newspaper. "Can I help you?" He asked, and his voice was rich and heavy. His hair was tied up in a pony tail and there were dark freckles spotted over his leathery face.

"A packet of Marlboro please." I said, pulling out my money from my pocket. He narrowed his eyes.

"ID?"

I pressed my lips together, faking annoyance, and pulled my fake ID out of my deep coat pocket. He looked at it and upon seeing I was 'nineteen', he shrugged and handed it back to me before grabbing the packet of cigarettes. I gave him the money, and then they were mine. I thanked him with a quiet nod, and then I turned to leave.

There was a boy there behind me, a crate in his hands. His black hair was dripping wet, tiny rivers moving over his brown skin, his black parka shiny with wetness. His brown eyes were on me and they were intense and wide, and for a moment I was lost, truck with the closeness of him. A shiver ran all the way up my spine, and I quickly scurried by, out into the rain as I pulled up my hood. Holding the cigarettes close to me, I rapidly walked around the gas station to go down to the river nearby. There was a small bridge and with relief I went under it.

Shaking hands found the lighter in my pocket and I flicked it on. A warm amber glow lit before my eyes and it wavered in the wind, which dulled under the bridge. I hastily pulled up a cigarette and lit it, breathing in the ash.

It eased the tightness inside of me. I sat back against the bridge, breathing in the smoke, letting it burn away at my lungs. Finally, I escaped the tornado within me, hovering inside it's calm, quiet centre.

"You're not nineteen." Came a sudden voice and I jumped, dropping the cigarette as I looked over to the source with wide eyes.

It was him. He was no longer holding the crate and his hair was spiky with moisture. He came forward, and his actions seemed slow, or perhaps it was just me adjusting to the situation. He picked up the cigarette, handing it to me, his eyes darker now under the bridge. Gingerly, I took it from him. He smiled apologetically and stood a few yards from me to my side. "My guess is that you're seventeen."

My eyes fogged and I pulled my knees up to my chest, breathing in the smoke once again. "What are you doing?" I asked, and my voice was so quiet. He glanced over to me, his hands in his jumper pockets.

"Waiting for the rain to stop." He said, and his eyes flickered to the cigarette. "Why are you smoking?"

"I want to." I murmured, looking away from him to the river. I heard him breathe out.

"You're going to catch your death." He said gently and I crossed my arms over myself.

"You are more at risk than I am." I mumbled. He chuckled, and the sound echoed quietly under the bridge. Smoke softly wafted up into the air and for one short moment, I was amazed at how peaceful it was.

"It's kinda beautiful. In a gothic way." He murmured and I glanced over to him, seeing his arms were crossed over his chest. He was all lean muscle; which I could plainly see through his soaked t-shirt. After a moment, he looked to me too. Molten brown eyes hit me and for the longest second I was caught in them. My throat tightened. "Seriously. Do you want a ride home?"

I thought back to the fifteen minute walk it took to get here, and it didn't look like the rain was holding up. That voice inside of me screamed not to. Pressing my lips together, I looked at my knees. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Cause I'm a stranger?" Suddenly he hopped over to me, crouching down to my level. "Okay. I'm Seth, and I'm from the reservation, and I'm a delivery boy. I'm eighteen. Does that ease your mind a bit?"

My eyes glimmered. "I- I just met you."

"I can't leave you here under a bridge while it's pouring with rain. My car has got heating." He gestured over his shoulder. "Do you go to the school here?"

"Not yet." I mumbled, and I instantly regretted saying that. Yes, I'm from the school. I live with my parents who love me very much and I have no siblings. I'm not a monster. I'm not a coward. "I... I will soon."

"Do you live nearby?" He asked, sitting down next to me.

"On the edge of town." I told him, enclosing in on myself. "Look, please don't. Please."

"Why not?" He questioned, tilting his head to the side as he looked at me. Everything inside of me abruptly liquefied and I just gazed at him wide-eyed. He smiled gently. "It's okay. I'll just take you home. Nothing more."

"I can't trust you." I managed to whisper.

"I know."

"Then why-"

"I'm a nice person." He shrugged. "Go on, you're a risk taker if you smoke. So..." He nudged my arm the smallest bit, and I almost jumped.

"I can't." I said quietly, looking down to my cigarette, which was nearly out. "You could be insane. You could be a murderer. You could be a rapist."

"You could be those things too." He said, and I whipped my eyes to him. You could be insane.

I then only felt the weight of the knife in my pocket. I had stolen it from the kitchen this morning, before the cook, Lorna, got in. I watched him for a hard moment, realising that Seth looked normal. A normal teenager with girls probably flocking after him and lots of friends. There was a light in his brown eyes, untainted by the greyness around us.

I could protect myself if the worst was to happen.

"Okay." I mumbled and he beamed. The intensity of his smile shocked me and soon he was on his feet, holding his hand out to me. Swallowing, I took it, and the warmth of his palm astounded me. He pulled me up with little trouble and I stamped out my cigarette. I let go of his hand hastily and he smiled warmly at me.

He turned around, and then he was off. I began after him, my steps careful because it was starting to get muddy. The rain was treacherous and soaked me straight away, leaving me breathless as I tried to get up the bank.

A warm hand was in mine again and I was pulled up before I fell over. Stumbling forward into his chest, I breathed out with relief. I looked up to him and he was already looking down at me, that warm smile on his face. My throat closed up again and I walked away from him to the parking lot near the gas station. He gestured towards his car, which was family sized and blue. We ran towards it and he unlocked it. I opened the passenger door and then I was away from the rain.

Droplets fell down my cheeks and I brushed them away as he clambered in too. He was long limbed and the seat was far away from the steering wheel so he was comfortable. The car smelt of freshly baked bread and I looked around, my stomach cramping with hunger.

He started the car and the heating went on. I was shivering at this point and so we stayed there, silent, for a moment as it heated up. Soon the air was warm and I started to dry. Seth let out a sigh of relief and grinned at me before pulling out of the parking lot.

"What's your name?" He asked as the car got onto the road, the windscreen wipers going steadily back and forth. The rain was a haze in front of us.

"Evelyn."