Hi guys, I'm Hirotamoy! I'm a new writer and am currently taking a temporary break to write this 9 fic, and I would not mind if you would maybe check out my Harvest Moon fic.

I wanted to write this story because I cried in the end of 9 when (spoiler if you haven't seen the movie) the characters died. This story is mainly about 6 and a few select characters that I love!

This is a…well I guess you could say an A/U story but all it is, is how they were…I guess you could say reincarnated into, well who they are in the story. I'm sorry if my characters seem a little OOC: out of character, but I needed it like that for the story.

This story will be! Adventure/romance/friendship/hurt and comfort! And yeah so I hope you like it. The story starts during the summer in the city where the nine will meet. This story is rated for violence language, and romantic themes by the way, the couples I'm pretty sure I'm doing for this story are 6x5 and 9x7, but things may change.

It starts with 6's perspective and in the end of my rant I will give their ages, numbers, and names.

This is my second story ever, but I am told I am a better writer then I think, so I hope you all enjoy it.

Please support me with reviews and possibly read my other story!

Any who onto the story!

1= Sampson Aldridge 62

2=Joshua Burr 57

3= Christopher (Chris) Corwin 14 1/2

4=Chase Dillingham (He and Chris are still siblings, but have divorced parents.) 14 1/2

5= Michael Edwards 17

6= James Flint 16

7= Christina (Christi) Granger 17 1/2

8= Jonathan Hogan 23

9= Noah Islip 18

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Chapter 1 Insanity~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

6/ James POV

"I don't know what to do with the boy lately Charles, he become intolerable! I can't take it anymore!" The woman, also known as my mother, yelled into the phone. Angry, sad, and confused tears streamed down her cheeks flushed boney cheeks.

I just there in my dim lit room, all but ignorant of my mother's rant, the only light coming from the ceiling light of our rundown apartment. I was aware, yet unaware, of my mother's words, I was so used to them by this point that what she said really didn't matter.

I just sat there on my worn cream colored carpet and drew another one of my…pictures, my visions, whatever you might call them.

My curly black hair fell in my face as I frantically drew each detail of my vision. I could still see it clearly, the people, the city, the…things, the monster. I couldn't stop until it was done, no I wouldn't stop.

The light shone brightly on my glasses and on my face as a cold sweat fell down my pasty pale skin. I was freezing even though I was covered in my pinstriped hoodie and long black pants. A mixture of ink and paint stained my thin pale hands as came near the conclusion of my vision, images of blood still flashing wildly in what was left of my mind.

My mother kept yelling on the phone with my father, Charles, who was currently away on "business", though my mother and I didn't believe it to be the reason for a moment. My mother and I both knew that when my father was out "business" it just meant he was out with his blond tramp that he has for a secretary.

Like my mother, my father thought I was nothing but a nuisance, and he was just out of the house to get away from me. He was probably telling her to calm down, but like always she carried on about never wanting "this, this thing" in the first place, and again like always, after what seemed like an eternity of her yelling, she finally got up grabbed her wallet, purse, and coat, and left. It was like her to do this every time I had a vision, she would see my drawings, yell at my father, grab her things, and leave to who knows where.

I sighed contently after she was gone, finally able to finish the last portion of the drawing in peace. I wiped some sweat off of my forehead, and after drawing the last figure in my vision, stopped and stared at the picture.

There were nine people in it just like the last ones. Eight males and one female, but the only one I recognized was myself, I was the sixth one to be drawn like always, and "As it should be, 6 should be the sixth." I stated smiling slightly at the large canvas on which I had drawn the vision, tracing a pattern that only I could see on it. I knew who the others were only by number; they had all been in my dreams at one point or another. "1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, and last but not least 9, that's right, 9 is last, just as it should be." I said pointing to the last figure I had drawn, a small smile dancing on my lips.

The figure known as 9 seemed about my age, maybe a little older, but had short black hair, silvery grey eyes, and had a much better body then me, not like it's hard. I never really eat or go out, so I was really just skin and bones, and because I don't ever go outside I have extremely pale paper like skin, not that I personally mind my appearance, but that's beside the point.

I stared at the picture a final minute before taking it into my hands and finally getting up after an hour or so. I walked across the paint and ink stained floor to my wall, my eyes trailing along it while observing all of the many drawings/visions I had drawn over the years. Some were in pencil, some pen, some paint, and even, if I didn't have anything else to use near me, a few pictures in my own blood, though those drawings were few.

I hung the newest addition to my collection up on my, now officially covered, cream colored wall and walked over to the old mattress that's my bed and lied down, staring at the ceiling where more of my drawings hung.

Most of my drawings were on loose sheets of paper as canvas was both expensive and something I didn't exactly prefer, and besides, paper was just easy to hang.

No matter how many times I've drawn them though, I've never met them so I can't help but start thinking about the others and who they are, how old they must be, what they're like, and so much more. I wanted to know so badly, but I knew the time would come soon enough.

I sighed, taking off my glasses and setting them next to my many bottles of pills on top of my small oak nightstand, they're pills the doctors make me take because they think I'm insane, I chuckle at the thought. Aside from my mattress and dresser the table is the only other thing in my room, well that is if you don't include the pictures of course.

I shifted to my side on my bed, and pulled my lone white blanket over me, snuggling into it for all the warmth it had. As much as I hated to admit it I needed sleep, but with sleep came my nightmares. I knew what was going to happen the second I fell asleep, but I couldn't help it, after staying up for two days I was just so tired and sleep was coming so fast. I'd just have to go through the nightmares; my sleeping pills would ensure me of that.

I shut my eyes and searched for something to think about, something happier. I began to think of tomorrow, of the first day of school. I hoped that my first day of being a sophomore at this new school would be interesting, but I knew deep down it would just turn out like freshman year at my last school. I was saddened by the memory, but shook it off, 'It won't happen this time, it won't.' I tried to assure myself, failing miserably.

My freshman year of high school was probably the worst year of my life, and not to mention the first year at a public school since I was in kindergarten, my parents thinking it best to keep their little accident from embarrassing them in front of the rest of the world. It had started out fine or as well as it could have, that is, until the rumors started. I wasn't liked from the start and people were constantly picking on me because of my dress and actions, but as long as it was just the rumors I would have been ok. Later in the year though it was worse than names, I got shoved into lockers, and was beat up, and harassed constantly because I wasn't like them.

I was constantly drawing my pictures, and writing down what had happened, and they would take the drawings and tear up my hard work right in front of my face. Once I had made the mistake in trying to fight for my art, but I lost miserably and came home bloody and beat that evening. My dad didn't care though and my mother said it was my own fault, and it made me feel even worse.

I stutter and repeat things; I make sense to myself, but no one else gets me...I don't think anyone ever will. I had the same thoughts when I tried to kill myself that same day and my father found me after I overdosed on my meds. The ambulance was called, and the whole school found out.

I couldn't be there after that so I stopped going to school...nobody would have even cared if I had died...maybe I should have just died.

A soft sad sigh escaped my lips then I brought my hands to my hair and pulled hard shaking my head "No! I can't, I can't think like that s-something good has to happen, r-right?" I had to keep an open mind about it, I had to. "Maybe this will be the year." I thought hopefully, nodding to myself.

I yawned, a deep sleep finally coming to me. I buried my head deep into my pillow and slowly fell asleep.

'Tomorrow…something, something important will happen, something good, I-it has to. I just know it.' The voice inside of me spoke. I smiled at it 'Yeah, something good.' And with that I fell asleep.