Chapter 1

The room was quiet and calm. There was a faint sound of music coming from a phone. She took the phone and stopped the music. Then, she gazed at herself in the mirror. She didn't like how she looked, but if you want to know what she was wearing and how she looked, oh well.

She was wearing a green dress that reached down her legs. It was short-sleeved and v-necked. There was a necklace hanging on her neck, with an 'R' letter. It was made of gold, and she had been wearing this since birth, her aunt told. It was a gift from her parents, and she hadn't taken it off since then.

Her wavy black hair reached some inches past her upper back. Her eyes were the prettiest color of the sky, azure. She was slim, pale. Her height was average, 5'3. Oh, but her face. Well, that was the thing. She didn't like her face either. Her eyebrows were softly arched, her cheeks were hollow and her lips were thin. But it was something else she didn't like.

A scar ran across from her left eyebrow to her cheekbone. It was deep and white.

Yes, she was beautiful. But she never saw or thought that. Yes, there were those who had told her, but it was just to make fun of her, ironically. They'd say, "Oh, look how pretty she is," and then they'd burst into laughter. She didn't mind. Not really. It had always been that way, they'd always notice, they'd ask, they'd bully, and she'd fight the urge to slap them. She didn't like attention. It made her feel even more terrible.

She didn't like people either, she hated them. Well, not everyone, but most of them. They were selfish, cruel, they were wicked and always serving their own interests. And, it was alright for her. She didn't need anyone. She was fine on her own and with her aunt. She didn't need anyone else.

As for the scar, she had been a troublemaker when little, her aunt told. She had always been a bit of a daredevil, running around, climbing things. When she was five, she had gone into a run and tripped on a rock, falling face first and cutting herself open. Her aunt had taken her to the hospital, but the scar had remained. And, she didn't remember all that. She didn't remember herself as little, or as a troublemaker. She didn't even remember her parents. All she had were the stories her aunt told. And it was strange, she thought.

"Regan, are you ready?" her aunt called from the other room.

"I'm coming!" Regan yelled back. She sighed and straightened her clothes. Just then, a sudden noise from the window got her attention. The window was left open before.

Now, closed.

Regan's eyebrows furrowed but then she called it the work of the wind.

She sighed and went to get her luggage. Just then, she felt something strange. She felt as if she was being watched. She felt it in her mind and glanced around her room, not noticing anything.

She sighed again and grabbed her luggage. As she went to check the bag, she saw a framed photo of her parents. It reminded her of how different she looked from them.

Sometimes she wondered about it. Was she even their daughter? Of course, she was. She thought so.

Checking the room if she forgot any stuff, she finally left.

Her aunt was waiting for her in the living room, her blonde hair in a neat bun, her bags by her side. She had a wide smile on her face, her brown eyes sparkling with excitement.

"You look nice, dear," she said, her voice gentle, "are you ready to go?"

"Yes, aunt Monica." Regan said. She was happy they were going to finally leave their old flat, but she couldn't help the intrusive thoughts that always accompanied her whenever she did something.

They both headed out of the apartment, going downstairs and in her aunt's car. Regan had gotten her driver license two years ago, but she didn't have a car.

They were going to California since there was the new house that Monica purchased.

As Monica drove off, Regan felt anxious the whole road. She didn't know much about the house or the neighborhood was in. The photos of the house were the only things she had seen.

She hid her anxiety in front of her aunt. Always. She was the kind of person to appear cool on the surface, even though she would tremble from anxiety inside.

With fewer words, the girl knew well to control her emotions, having learnt that by years of isolating her thoughts and feelings.

After some hours, they stopped the car near a restaurant. Obviously, Monica and her niece were hungry. The restaurant was lovely, with a lush outside tavern. It was filled with people, mostly road travelers. Regan and her aunt took a seat somewhere in the side, with Regan being paranoid about whoever passed near her chair. She didn't really want others close to her. Monica ordered and then looked at Regan.

"Are you excited?" she asked.

"Of course I am," Regan smiled. Although she was anxious, she was happy about moving out.

"Amazing, you're gonna love it there, dear. It is a million times better than that trash apartment we had."

The paranoid girl looked around at her surroundings and noticed some guys and girls her age sitting in a table a bit far from hers. They were staring at her. They're staring at my scar, she thought.

She didn't really care though, although she felt insecure. She rarely wore makeup, not that she didn't like it, but that she was lazy.

After the waitress brought their food, they ate. A hour later, they entered the car again, ready for their long ride. After six hours, they finally arrived in their destination.

It had become afternoon, the sky a shade of orange and blue. The temperatures were high and the wind was hot. Their new house was like Regan had seen in photos. It was a two-story bungalow house. Other houses in the neighborhood were similar and nice.

A few people were walking by, and it was calm and quiet.

The girl took a deep breath from the fresh air, feeling like she had just finished a prison sentence.

Monica was already getting the bags inside and told her to follow. She followed her inside the house.

The interior of the house was neatly kept. On the right side of the corridor, was the staircase, leading the way up. On the left of the stairs, was an arched doorway, which led to the living room; another to the kitchen. In the end of the small corridor, was a plain white door to the bathroom.

The floors were made of wood, crackling as our girl walked.

She gazed around the plain walls, which lacked any kind of decorations. However, the house was well furnished.

"Aunt, can I go upstairs?" she asked in an exciting voice.

"Of course, dear, it's our house," Monica replied.

The girl was so curious about the house that she didn't want any hole uncharted.

Shw checked the two other rooms upstairs, one by one, and the other bathroom.

"Regan, the room on the left is yours and on the right is mine. Come down to get your bags and unpack." The aunt yelled from below.

Regan liked her new room. It was plainly decorated and neat. It had a balcony and a window on the other side. The bed was adjacent to the wall, a white modern closet was on its right with a wall mirror. A white wooden desk, was across the room with four white shelves.

Here she thought to put the books she read and other stuff.

The floor was like all the floors in the house, wooden and crackly when she stepped down.

Monica called again, and this time Regan rushed downstairs to get her bags. She saw her aunt was already moving her own things, and so did she.

She started to unpack, exited. After the clothes on the closet were finished, she put the long awaited books on the shelves, including other things as well.

She left the balcony's door open for fresh air, and then entered Monica's room.

"Are you done with it?" She asked chuckling. Her aunt was a perfectionist, making sure to have her stuff organized and neat, unlike this paranoid girl, who kept forgetting where she left things.

"Yeah, yeah... do you like the house?"

"Like? I love it!" she said and meant it. This house was nothing like her old apartment. It was so cool and lovely.

"I knew you would, let's go downstairs and eat something," Monica suggested.

"But we haven't bought anything..."

"No problem hun, I ordered pizza."

Regan nodded excitedly and went downstairs to the living room. She sat on the beige, and a little scratched couch, and looked around at the flat screen TV, noticing a small router on its right.

"There's Wi-Fi here?" she asked.

"Yes, the previous owners didn't take a lot from the house, almost everything is left here, they already have bigger opportunities in another country in the US, so..." the aunt explained.

Regan immediately checked her phone to see that Wi-Fi was free, "That's fantastic!"