1 Chapter 1:

I stare at the ceiling, the blank canvas above that has sheltered me for the entirety of my life. But with this shelter involves a claustrophobic hold, one that sinks its claws into your flesh and continues to twist and turn, severing flesh from bone. I turn my head and see the shadow of darkness lurking behind the curtains covering my bedroom window.

I am trapped. Not physically, but it feels as if I can no longer hide from my overwhelming emotions. It swallows me whole, until I lose all sense of control and sever the connection between body and mind.

I hear screams of disgust, and I know it involves me. My mom, Sharon, bangs on my locked bedroom door, the wooden barrier shaking with each assault of her fists.

I continue to ignore her, but what she says next catches my attention.

"I'm sending you to your father's." The thundering fists against the door halts.

I sit up on my bed and stare at the door in bewilderment, as if she could see my expression from behind the closed entrance.

"You're sending me to that bastard?" I shout. I've given her a response and lost the game.

"You're done. I've had enough," she moves to leave, her voice fading further away.

"You would really do that to me?" I yell, not bothering to move off my bed and follow.

"Frankly, I really don't care anymore!"

"Mom, please, if you'll just listen to me," I leap off my bed and open the door. She's threatened me with this idea before, but there's something in her tone this time. A finality? The future seems clear this time, and I'm left with an uneasy sensation pooling in my gut. It is burning and sizzling like bile, leaving an acid aftertaste in my mouth.

"I'm not interested, Riley. I already spoke with Jim last week. We both think this is for the best."

I move to stand in her way in the hall, but she shoves me to the side. I stare helplessly as she walks towards the living room with a smug expression on her face.

"It's what I should have done a long time ago," she breathes out a sigh of relief. It is clear in her voice how happy she is, and I know she's just spoken the truth.

"Why now?" I ask, grabbing her by the arm; but she yanks it back as if my touch burned her.

"You're almost eighteen, Riley. You can't be fighting with your sister. But there are other reasons for this, you know there are," she sits down on the couch and shakes her head at me. I follow suit and lift my hand to place it over hers, but stop myself. Ever since I was young, I've never had close contact with others. She's never allowed herself to give me the slightest touch or display of affection. I've longed for it, so bad. I feel it right in my chest. It tightens there the most, and the thought of being so alone scares me.

Yet she's so affectionate with my sister. It is one of the reasons we fight so much. This is what she's hinting at--the poor relationship I have with my sister. I roll my eyes and look up at the many pictures of my sister on the wall. There are none of me. Not one. I see a life of me absent, but so ever present within it.

She's the reason I hate myself, of why I can't look in a mirror without wanting to smash it.

My little sister, Naomi.

I can imagine my hands wrapped around her throat, and my breathing hitches. Mom notices my agitation, and quickly moves away from me. She plays indifference, but I know deep down that she's afraid of me.

I can literally feel her fear flowing off her in waves. Her heart flutters in her chest nervously, like the thundering of Hummingbird wings in flight. I have always had the ability and keen sense of awareness to hear such acts. The pulsing of the blood flowing through her veins and the swallowing of spit as she gulps in fear.

She turns back to face me, but I ignore her. I stare out the living room window and divert my attention elsewhere. I see a crow dive down onto the white haven, landing effortlessly. But this is far within the forest. My sight has been impeccable, even in darkness. The crow's beak quickly digs into the snow, looking for nourishment. The window turns blurry, but it's because tears are pooling in my eyes.

Nobody understands me. I never feel like I belong anywhere.

Maybe I should just end it.

"Pack your things. We'll be leaving in the morning. And don't bother your sister when she comes home," I hear her retreating footsteps and then the front door slams shut. When the car starts outside, I finally let the tears go.

I really have nobody.

"This is the best day of my life," I hear my sister shout from the window above. I grab my suitcase and carry it to the car.

"Mine too," I yell.

I shove my entire life into the back of the car and sigh. This is really happening.

I sit in the front seat, waiting for mom to grab her purse. Once she's in the car, we are silent. I keep waiting for her to stop and turn around, to tell me this was all some life lesson I needed to learn.

But this is not the case.

Arriving at the bus station, I grab my luggage and head inside. Sharon--let's face it, she isn't a genuine mother to me. She's never acted like one in my case. She says nothing and goes to the front desk to buy my ticket.

I stand in line, eyes devoid of emotion. There is no way I'll show her just how much this is affecting me.

When she hands me my ticket she only nods, no sign of remorse or regret for what she's doing to me on her face. She moves back a step and then turns towards the exit. I watch her, the morning light from the door cascading golden around her. The door slams, and she's gone. The woman who raised me has abandoned me for real.

This is real.

No goodbye. No "I love you, but I'm sorry."

Nothing.

I should be used to it by now, but her attitude towards me still chills me to the core. I shudder and a single tear slips from my right eye. I quickly wipe it, as if Sharon was still around to mock me for showing emotion.

When my bus is called for departure, I grab my luggage and follow the crowd.

"Hi there," I look away from the window and frown when I see a man smiling in my direction. His brown eyes are a molten mix of chocolate and honey, a blend of the warmest colours. I swallow deeply when he sets his backpack on the floor and sits in the empty seat beside me.

I turn my head away and ignore him, watching as the bus driver shoves our luggage into the compartment beneath the vehicle.

"Where are you headed?" He asks me, and I feel my face heat at his attention.

"Do you know me?" I say without looking at him.

"No, but I'd like to," even without seeing his expression, I already know that wolfish smile of his is out in the open.

"Well, sorry to break it to you, but I don't talk to strangers," I turn and give him my best disinterested look.

He ignores me and instead says "I'm Arthur."

"I don't speak to strangers, so I would appreciate you not speaking to me for the rest of my trip," I say. I don't mean to be rude, but after what I've just experienced, I would rather not socialize.

"But we aren't exactly strangers," he smirks, "You know my name."

My mouth opens at this and then closes when I notice the playful expression on his face. "If I tell you my name, will you leave me be? I'm not feeling very well right now."

"Maybe," he leans closer to me and I freeze.

"I-I'm Riley," I lean further back towards the window.

"Nice to meet you, Riley," he grins.

Surprisingly, he leaves me alone for the rest of the trip.

When the bus stops at my destination, I feel intensely aware of his body close to mine. He turns to me with a sad expression, and I feel that if I had a mirror it would show the same look on my face. I can hear his heart and mine blend with each other, as if we are the same.

I don't want him to leave.

He leans down, and I hold my breath thinking he is going to kiss me. But he grabs his bag at my feet and then holds it in his hands, waiting for the people in the front to disperse.

"I should have ignored your demands," he shakes his head.

"What?" I say, my eyes gazing up at him as if we were long lost lovers.

"I guess it wasn't meant to be," he says while lifting a hand and smoothing it delicately over my left shoulder. I don't even flinch, but his touch ignites a heat from deep within me. It feels as if I've known him my whole life.

"Goodbye, Riley," he says softly among the noise of people, but I can still hear him clearly. I watch as he walks down the alley between the seats. His back turned, I long to wrap my arms around him.

But like always, I don't. I don't do anything but watch as this guy leaves down the stairs and disappears out into the unknown. I soon follow suit and wait as the bus driver passes me my luggage. I look around, but Arthur is nowhere to be found. It is as if I had imagined him from the start.

Yes, I wish he hadn't listened to my demands either