Chapter 3

The door squeaked open, Helena turned the switch light on, lighting up the small storeroom Helena called her haven.

When the orphanage relocated 13 years ago to this small neighborhood everyone was in a clear shaken state, except for the one that actually ran the orphanage.

She, Mrs Gretchen Harps was a lady of age 56, barely even able to move freely around. For the love of heaven's Helena couldn't understand how an old lady such like her would be the one in charge of an orphanage.

She would've if lucky been sitting and drinking old roasted tea with cats meowing up and about, but no it was quite the opposite.

Helena slumped down on the messy bed sheets. Resting her head for a few minutes of slumber-

"Mother!" I looked up to my mother as she placed a plate filled with pancakes before me.

"Reina don't think I haven't noticed that you've been up all night with your head buried in that book." It totally wasn't fair. How could she do this?

"That's the reason why you gave me it in the first place?" I took a bite from the pancake and dipped it in maple sauce on the right side of my plate. My mother has always been a person to want things in a specific way and if she wasn't pleased with it, tough luck.

"I gave it to you for that specific reason so you can give your feedback. You know how my job is, besides I'm meeting up with George Costanza tomorrow." My mother took a bite from her pancake and drank her regular black coffee without sugar as she opened a folder set down besides her.

Taking out a picture she hands it over to me.

"George Costanza, author of the soon to be trilogy of Prisoners of fate. For now we only have the first book which is to be published in two and a half months time."

Looking down at the picture the dark eyes of a handsome man stares back at me. His jawline on perfect display as a weak yet stunning smile makes its way to his lips. His hair is tossled back messily a few strands escaping and covering his eyes in a flawless effort on being seductive.

I slide the picture back to my mother being careful not to get smudges of maple syrup on it. She takes it inspecting the picture before she places it back in the folder.

"If it helps you feel at ease the book is good, I'm sure you can make a few bucks or maybe more off it. It's intriguing." Standing up I pick said book up and tuck it underneath my arm. "I'll see you when you come home." Smiling I walk outside into the chilly weather.

I live a few miles just outside Washington. My mother has always been one to have greenery surrounding her so it came as no surprise when we moved out here a few years back. It just sucks that everytime we do need anything we'll have to go into town.

My mother on the other hand is always to absorbed in her work. She has her own Publishing House so I can't even imagine the stress that comes with it.

I walk over to my bicycle and place the book gently down with care in the basket in front of it. Sighing I look around at the wooden built house breathing in fresh moist morning air. Its always felt as though at times , the air has been suffocating.

Shaking my head at these depressing thoughts I begin peddling my way into town.

-

Unknown POV:

She sat there to absorbed in her book that she hadn't noticed she spilled a bit of fresh roasted coffee on her white blouse.

Her hair was tied up in a messy bun and her pale complexion looked ghostly ill. Her lips was chapped as she continued to bite down on her lower lip, maybe in thought?

She placed the book down, but not like a usual person would she placed a bookmarker in the page she last stopped at and made sure that the book was neatly positioned before her. Her actions from an outsiders point of view was very puzzling. To me it certainly was. Though her actions was puzzling my curiosity was laid back that's why before I made myself walk over to her I turned around and left. Those eyes still haunts me, no light in it just dull and distant from the rest of the world. At night I'll see them in my dreams haunting and daring me to do something.

Every night I'd awake to those eyes and if taken back into reality I'd open my eyes and for a split second see them before they disappear into the darkness which surrounds me.

Even though from a distance I had seen her I could tell she was like me, and us together will certainly be disastrous. I became to addicted to the sight of her that everyday I would stop by the shop just in hopes of seeing her but she never came.

--

Helena had been awaken by the fall of an object, her lamp had fallen but the windows in her room was open and she could've sworn that it was closed a second ago. A second ago, but wasn't she asleep. Lost in thought whether she had fallen asleep or not she stopped once visible nail marks had been printed on her skin leaving it achingly raw.

Standing up from her bed she stumbled as an ache in her abdomen caused her to wince and bite back a scream. Turning and heading to her bedroom door the sight of blood covering her bedsheets caught her line of view.

"What happen..ed?" Helena asked herself lost and unaware of what she had missed out.

"NO!" She screamed once the echoes of laughter rang. Shutting her eyes and holding her head in her hands she stumbled back to the bed, wincing with each step.

No this couldn't be. Flashbacks played before her eyes. No! The laughing, uncontrolled caused her head to ache.

Whimpering Helena let out a cry, sniffing but stopped when she heard her door knob turning.

"Ready princess." Was that Shadows voice it sounded awfully similar to his. Helena was confused because those words could've came from Shadow, but how. "How could you have forgotten so easily. Want me to show you what happened or do you want to hear your screams."

Lost, was one word to describe Helena. A little lamb lost from its Shepard. "Its up to you but the outcome of either is a negative result which in due time shall cause a drastic effect on your health."

With that said Helena closed her eyes as the images played before her eyes. Living her own personal nightmare but the only difference now. She wasn't as clueless as before, she knew what had been done to her and she felt disgusted by that.