Disclaimer: No.

A/N: Sorry it took so long! This is a hard one to write! But I wrote the beginning of this chapter in my notebook, and I'm hoping that if I type it everything will just come to me from there and amalgamate to form chapter two! Read and review please!

P.S.: In the first chapter, his mom called him Axel once instead of Logan. I have to say, she meant to say Logan. That was a bad typo on my part, and I will fix it when I post this, so as to erase any confusion of future readers. This was brought to my attention by my dear friend Kelsey, and I thank her for pointing out my mistakes lol. Love you Kelsey!

Blood

Chapter Two

Eight years. It's been eight years since that day. Eight years, full of blood, fire, screaming... Eight years of having no steady job, no real home, no friends, no family.

It's been a great eight years.

After having my fun in Atlanta, Georgia, I took one of my victim's cars and made my way through South and North Carolina. By the time I was eighteen, I'd made my mark on four states. And no one even knew who I was. At twenty I was able to hold a semi-permanent residence in Covington, Kentucky, but I got careless and made a mistake. Which was just what the county cops were waiting for. From then on, I'd made a name for myself, which is the worst thing for anyone to do when they are... in my line of work.

They called me the Flurry of Dancing Flames. And now everytime there's a fire, people think I did it.

So I quickly moved on. At twenty-one I lived in Cincinnati, Ohio, then Columbus, and at twenty-two I moved on to Cleveland. I turned twenty-three in Indianapolis. There, I met a young blonde, by the name of Meredith. I never learned her last name. We met at a library, and she was obviously interested in me, so I decided to humor her, and take her out for her twenty-first birthday. I took her to a club, and the hours there were amusing, watching her drink until she could hardly stand up. I remember dancing with her, and whispering "Happy Birthday."

Right before I burned the building to the ground.

There were three survivors from the "inexplainable" fire. Meredith was not one of them.

So I poured a glass of wine, watched the news, and was gone before the police had even brought up my name.

But my life had no real story until the afternoon of August 4th, 2005. A typical day with no real importance. That's what I thought.

Until I saw her.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me begin at the beginning.

And this story begins with groceries.

I was waiting outside my favorite grocery store, Kroger. It was favorite not for its items, for those weren't very impressive, but instead for its placement. It was a little ways off the major roads, and only locals and die-hard fans would go there.

This made it perfect for "grocery shopping".

I stole a glance at a young woman exiting the store. Her cart held a cake, and various party items. Not what I needed. I watched her as she went to her car, and saw the she owned the bright blue Prius in the center of the parking lot. Too visible, anyway.

Another woman exited, looking to be about forty-something, with a large body, pushing a cart stuffed with everything you could ever need for a month. She was already looking around, as if she expected someone to come at her, or follow her.

I rolled my eyes. Too many things to carry, and she was too perceptive. Or crazy. Either way, it wouldn't help me.

Many people passed me as I posed as an employee on his break, taking drags on my cigarrette occassionally to make myself look occupied. Most of them didn't take a second look at me, though I did get a wink or two by some of the younger shoppers. I offered them smiles and nods back, and they'd giggle and pull out their cell phones, or whisper heatedly with their friends.

I laughed. They had no idea of who I was. That was what made my job so easy. Appearances were one of the most decieving things in this world. And I used that fact completely to my advantage.

Finally, an older man walked out carrying a few plastic bags in one hand, and a gallon of milk in the other. His hair was graying and balding, and his car seemed to be on the empty side of the lot, near the old Chinese restaurant and under-construction Pizza Hut.

I smiled, then quickly wiped it off my face. Nothing to draw attention to myself. I stomped out my cigarrette with the toe of my shoe, then walked behind the line of bushes used to make the store seem more attractive, out to the parking lot. When the man reached his car, I was already on the other side, opening the passenger door in time with the driver's side.

The man's eyes widened when he saw me, then his brow narrowed and he opened his mouth to yell something at me. I rolled my eyes and reached across the car, grabbing his throat and pulling him inside. I shut the shotgun door behind me with my foot, then shut him inside with me. I pulled out my knife from my boot, slammed his head into the seat to disorient him, then slit his throat. He made a gurgled yelp of surprise and pain under my hand, and he shook violently, until his weight fell forward, and I was holding him up. I drew my hand back quickly, avoiding any blood that might fall on me, grabbed his groceries, then stepped outside. I locked the car door, then shut it behind me, walking into the shadows immediately before anyone could notice me.

I was struck by the urge to set his car on fire. I pushed the thought away angrily and stepped into the alley between the grocery store and the old Chinese restaurant, where my car was parked. I tossed the bags into the backseat, then started the engine, pulling out, driving across the parking lot, and melding into traffic easily. Why did I have to be such a pyromaniac? It was just going to get me caught.

I pulled up into the parking lot beside Best Western and parked my car in my usual spot: near a brick wall corner, in the shadows. I stuffed the groceries in a large backpack, then pulled it onto my shoulder, locking my car behind my back, then slipping the keys into my pocket. Normally, the hotel wouldn't let their guests bring in their own groceries, since they wanted to sell more things in their minifridge.

But they couldn't kick me out if they were too busy thinking a gallon of milk was a large anatomy textbook.

"Hey, Axel!" the woman behind the check-in counter called. Her long brown hair was pulled back in a french braid, and her makeup had darkened considerably since I'd first started staying here. It was no secret she had some sort of crush on me; apparently she was trying to make herself look more attractive to impress me.

I gave her a crooked grin, and she blushed. "Hey, there, Aerora," I answered, shifting my bag further up on my shoulder.

"Back from school already?" she asked, leaning over the table at me. Her face looked open, but a slight curve to her lips told me she was freaking out on the inside and choosing her words and movements extremely carefully.

I laughed once inwardly, and she didn't seem to notice. "Yeah," I answered. "It was just lecture today." The lie slipped easily from my lips, as it always did. I never told her which college I attended, however, for if she ever grew suspicious, she could easily call up the school. And then I'd have to kill her.

And I really didn't want to kill her.

Aerora made a face, but was still smiling. "Sounds boring," she droned, resting her jaw on her hand.

I walked up to the front desk and leaned my hip on it, resting my arm on the counter, my hand close to hers. "Yeah, but what can you do, huh?" I shifted my bag again, making sure she noticed. "I have a shitload of work to do, though."

"Really?" she asked. "That's no fun."

"Yeah, I got paper to write, and a few chapters to read, and then I gotta take, like, ten pages of notes." I moved my hand over hers and shot her meaningful glance. "I'll probably be up all night."

Her blush deepened and she smiled at me through her lashes. "I'll have to come up and check on you," she said. "Just to make sure you haven't - I don't know - passed out on the floor?"

I smirked and leaned in to give her a kiss on her cheek. "I'll be waiting," I whispered in her ear, then made my way upstairs, pretending not to notice the way she was biting her lip in expectation.

~X~

I woke up late the next morning with a naked Aerora in my arms and a large fake anatomy textbook about to fall off the bed.

I breathed in the scent of her vanilla shampoo, and sighed. I felt a little bad about what I was doing. She probably thought she was my girlfriend or something. But in reality, she was just relief for the demands of the male human body.

Well, she never had to know that.

I moved myself away from her, and happily the only response she made was a mumble and a lazy repositioning of her body. I rubbed my eyes and moved out of bed, shrugging on my boxers and jeans before pouring a tall glass of milk.

I briefly wondered if she'd still be in that bed if she knew what I'd been doing for the past eight years. All the people I'd killed.

I laughed quietly to myself. Of course not. If anyone knew, I'd be stuck in jail on death's row already.

I pulled on a clean black t-shirt and walked out of the room, to the elevator. It was a habit of mine, since I'd turned thirteen, to take a jog in the morning. I believe my reasoning behind it had been to escape my father's insults to my mother about how she prepared his breakfast. Something along those lines.

I nodded my good mornings to the maitenance staff, then stepped outside.

And that's when I saw her.