Untitled

(This is what I have done so far. I will add to it if I get any responses on it. I don't want to put work into a dud.)


I gently touched the bright purple bruises on my neck, wincing at even the slightest touch. The mark was a perfect reflection of the hand that had inflicted the damage on me the previous night. Removing my fingers and turning my head to the other side I inspected the gash across my eyebrow in the mirror. Luckily, I wouldn't need stitches, but it would definitely leave a scar. I sighed and wrapped one of my many scarves around my neck before trudging from the bathroom and down the stairs to the kitchen.

"Morning, Dad," I tried to sound as cheery as possible. Robert was perpetually paranoid that I was going to sink into a depression one of these days just because I was no longer living with my mother. I was happy for her. She had found her perfect job, traveling around the world teaching in under developed countries. I couldn't blame her for a taking a few years for herself. After all, she had to drop all of her dreams to raise a child at age twenty. That had been more than a month ago, but I still could not assure Robert that I was okay.

"What happened to you, Aiden?" he asked, looking questioningly at the cut across my eyebrow.

"Oh," I said, my fingers flying up to inspect it again. "You know how much of a clutz I can be." I said, laughing a little.

"Okay, well you better get going. Don't want to be late for your first day of school, here," he said, shoving a granola bar in my hand and ushering me out the door.

"Pushy much?" I shot at him jokingly and turned to make the trek to the school.

Halfway to the building I noticed someone was behind me. I wonder where he came from, I thought, turning my head just enough to see the boy that was following me in my peripheral vision. Bad idea. The bruises on my neck began to throb again from the strain of my turned head and I immediately turned it straight again. That was an even worse idea. The sudden movement sent another shock of pain through my body and this time it was too strong to handle. My vision blackened around the edges and I lost my balance. Strong arms caught me around my waist and I had the sensation of being hoisted up, bridal style. My head slumped against a strong chisled chest as a moan escaped my lips.

"Are you okay?" asked a voice as smooth as satin, worry tinging its edges and making it even more irresistable.

"Mmm..." was my only reply. I was fighting the urge to drop into the darkness of unconciousness. We were still moving forward when my curiosity finally won. I cracked my eyes open slightly, peeking through my lashes, but allowing myself to still seem passed out.

"Awake are we?" the satin voice asked, our movement stopping as he peered down at me.

How had he known, I thought to myself as I allowed my eyes to open fully only to find myself gazing upon the incarnation of a greecian god. My breath caught in my throat and the stranger's face flashed with worry once again.

"Are you okay, I ask again," he said to me, his voice filling my ears like the sweet melody of a song. His eyes, an unusual shade of violet, glittered in the sun as he studied me.

"Yeah," I answered, finding my voice suddenly. "I think I can walk now." But I don't want you to put me down, my brain added involuntarily.

He nodded and tipped my feet to the ground so that I could stand on my own. My knees still felt a little weak, so I clung to his bicep for a few moments. He smiled, and I lost my breath again. It took me a minute to pull my eyes from his god-like form, but when I did I realized we were at the school. He had carried me atleast a half a mile. I blushed and turned back to him. "I'm sorry to have made you carry me so far. I don't know what happened." I just strained my injuries too much too soon, I added internally.

"It's no trouble. Are you sure you are okay?" he asked again. I nodded, taking note that not only was he beautiful, he had the strangest features. His eyes were the color of lavenders, starkly contrasting his shoulder-length white hair. He looked like an albino, but there was just something about him. Something almost otherworldly.

"Thanks," I said, still slightly dazed. "I should get to class. Hope to see you around," I added as I turned and walked towards the entrance. The farther I got from the beautiful boy the more coherent I became. Just as I stepped into my classroom the bell rang and the light went off in my head. Of course, he's a demon, I thought, smacking the palm of my hand on my forehead as I walked over to an empty seat infront of an acne encrusted boy with thick glasses and a pocket protector. "Great," I growled to myself as I sat in the last empty seat in the room.

I had been taught from birth by my grandmother that demons were real. She instructed me in the art of sword fighting before I even began kindergarten, teaching me that all demons were evil. She impressed upon my very soul the principles of a Quesla, or demon hunter. And she did all of it without my mother ever knowing a thing; since, according to Quesla legend, the abilities of a Quesla skipped a generation and no one outside the hunter community was to know of their existence.

My mind was no where near thinking about calculus during class. It kept replaying the events of the morning. A million questions raced through my mind as I watched the video of the morning's events in my head over and over. Who was he? Why was he here, in Paramore. Why did he catch me? How did he know where I was going? and finally, the biggest question of all, Why had he not killed me?

I was startled from my thoughts when the bell rang. I sighed as I withdrew my schedule from my uniform's inner coat pocket and studied it.

"I see you have English next," came a nasally voice from over my shoulder. "I do too. Want me to walk you?"

"Ummm... I guess that would be alright." I'm too nice for my own good.

We walked in silence, which was actually preferrable to me since the sound of his voice reminded me of nails on a chalkboard. My head was still reeling when we reached the English room, but all thoughts immediately stopped when I lifted my head.

The boy from calculus continued to a seat that was apparently with his friends, and I was left with the last chair once again. But that wasn't what had stopped me dead in my tracks. No, the only seat left in the room was right next to the demon from earlier.

He smiled, but it was an awkward smile, like he knew I suspected him of being what he was. I took the seat next to him with as little nonchalance as possible. It was just him and I at the same kind of two student table that filled the rest of the room. I slid my chair as far away from him as possible without looking like I was doing it intentionally. I groaned and put my head on the desk infront of me. I could feel his intense violet eyes on me, but I refused to look up.

"Aiden Silver?" the teacher called out for roll. The demon beside me let out a small laugh that was barely audible.

"Here," I answered.

A few minutes passed as she called out more names. "Leviticus Aurelius."

"Here," said the unnaturally beatiful boy beside me. "But if you don't mind I like to be called Lee."

"Alright," she said, making a note of it on her sheet beforing continuing up the list. Apparently she was one of those teachers. The kind that like to go against the grain and read roll from the bottom up.

My seat next to the demon named Lee was not the most uncomfortable situation I had ever been in, but it was pretty close. I couldn't help thinking that at any moment he was going to reach over and end me. My hands were shaking, so instead of taking notes on the basic rules of English that Mrs. whats-her-name was going over, I balled my hands into fists and shoved them under my armpits. The minutes seemed to go by slower as the class wore on and just as I began to think that my torture would never end the bell rang. I sighed in relief and reached to take my books off the desk, but my fingers grazed cool alabaster skin when they should have been touching the hard cover of my literature book. I pulled my hand back at the unexpected contact, and I had to force myself to turn slowly to look at Lee.

"I'll carry your books to your next class. I just have a study period, so I can be a little late," he stated, not giving me a choice in the matter.

I nodded my head and lead the way out the door, fighting the growing crowd in the too-small hallway. "I have an art class next, but I am not sure where the room is," I told him, my voice barely above a whisper. I sounded meek, which was not me. Usually I was outgoing and open to talking to new people. I was especially good at small talk, but knowing I was in the presence of a demon caused me to clam up. My brain would run through the same questions from calculus, always landing upon the "Why didn't he kill me?" question. I must have run through the same thoughts a couple dozen times while we made our way to the art room in silence, the white haired boy leading the way with an armful of my books.

We made it to the right room just as the bell rang. I expected him to stop at the door, but he continued on into the room. This time there were a few seats to choose from and I picked the one closest to the gigantic windows on the one side of the room. He followed me and placed the stack of books on the table. He finally turned and left me alone, but not before flashing a perfectly white smile in my direction.

The moment his foot stepped over the threshold of the room, I let loose a breath that I hadn't even known I was holding. Relief washed over me, but it was soon overwhelmed by questions again.

The teacher introduced himself as Mr. Holden and explained that we would be covering realistic recreation in our art. I was able to turn all my attention on the class because it was my only real talent in life. After Mr. Holden's introduction he asked us to sketch a quick drawing in fifteen minutes of something that we had recently seen.

I was never the kind of artist that thought about a drawing, I always allowed the inspiration to flow straight past my logic center in the brain to my right hand.

My fingers lightly gripped the pencil, as I applied gray strokes across the stark, lifeless paper. The lines that formed underneath the graphite of the pencil slowly gathered shape and depth. I had just flipped my pencil over and began to add soft highlights when Mr. Holden instructed us to stop. I glanced down at the person I had subconciously known I was drawing and held back the urge to be sick.

Within the boundaries of the paper, Lee's enchanting eyes stared back at me. The violet swirls of his irises were recreated flawlessly in shades of gray, their ancient depths amplified in the monotone colors. I scowled, my hands gripping the edges of the paper, preparing to smash it into the smallest ball possible. I would have burned the thing, but I didn't want to be suspended on my first day.

Mr. Holden cleared his thoat and began what I assumed would be his lecture for the day. "I hope you all have chosen a subject that intrigues and inspires you, because it will be your subject for the rest of the semester. I want to see what you have discovered in the end about your subject while creating it in all different mediums."

My heart dropped into my stomach as I realized that Holden had seen my art and was going to remember what I had drawn today. There was no way out of it. I was going to be drawing the very thing I despised most in this world.

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During my history class I sat next to a girl that took it upon herself to strike up a conversation with me. I felt like I had stepped into the Spanish Inquisition. She flung questions to me as often as she could during class. By the time the bell rang for lunch she knew every detail of my life while I knew none of her's. She ushered me through the halls to the cafeteria, pulling me to sit next to her on one of the ugly gray bench seats at an already too full table. I slapped on my most sincere fake smile as the girl, whose name I now remember was Ellie Stolk, introduced me to her group of friends. I didn't have to put much effort into introducing myself, because Ellie answered all the questions for me, so I used my energy to try an remember all the faces around me.

I was shaken from my concentration by an elbow in my side, and Ellie leaning against me to whisper into my ear. "You see that guy over there?" she asked, pointing to the corner of the cafeteria farthest away from us.

"No, what does he look like?" I asked, trying to sound interested for the sake of having an actual friendship with Ellie.

"The gorgeous one with the white hair," she said in a tone that left an afterword of "duh, who else."

My eyes locked with Lee's as he looked up from his untouched food. Our gazes held for a long time before he looked down again. It was a silent battle between us, who could hold the eye contact the longest and I had won. Then, I remembered Ellie and answered, "Yeah, what about him?"

"I have had the biggest crush on him since the beginning of last year when he moved here. I don't know much about his family. He sticks with the group that is surrounding him right now all the time, and they aren't the most friendly bunch," she finished. And with that off her mind, she turned to her other friends once again.

I studied the boys surrounding Lee. One was very large, he looked to be around six foot three with all muscle and was leaning on the raidiator beside the table with his arms crossed across his broad chest.

The one sitting to Lee's right wasn't nearly as big as "muscles", but he could hold his own in a fist fight, I was sure. I referred to him in my head as "shortie" because he was at least a head smaller then Lee.

And finally the last guy was the most interesting of the surrounding group. He was dressed to kill, figuratively speaking. I could have sworn he shopped at all the designer stores you would find in New York City. He was even wearing, what looked like, a diamond studded Rolex. I properly named him "fancy pants". I could take him down in thirty seconds flat, guaranteed.

With part of my people watching out of the way, I turned my attention back to Ellie and her friends. I learned that the brown headed girl sitting across from me with the Dooney and Bourke hand bag was named Elizabeth, Lizzy for short. The boy that sat on the opposite side of Ellie and seemed to sink into the background was named Shane, and the red headed girl sitting directly across from me who had the greenest eyes I had ever seen was named Sarah.

My mind wandered elsewhere after having learned their names and before I knew it the bell had rung to dismiss us from lunch.

I floated like a zombie through the rest of my classes, my brain fried from not only the day of school, but the encounter I had had last night. All I wanted to do was go home, crash on my bed, and sleep until tomorrow morning. I was excited when the last bell rang and I stepped into the warm sun.

Suddenly, I felt a sharp tug on my arm and I was yanked to the side of the building.

"Ow, what the hell. Leave me go," I said, still not sure who had grabbed me because I was being whipped around like a rag doll.

"Oh, shut up," came a familiar velvet voice. "You know, I've tried so hard to avoid you people for the past year and half. I thought I was finally safe and I was actually beginning to be happy. Then you come along," his frustration was apparent.

"What are you talking about?" I screamed. We were already to a secluded area of the school grounds. He dropped my arm and I pulled it to my chest, inspecting it for bruises.

"Don't play stupid with me. I know what you are, Quesla!" he spat.

My mouth dropped open at his words as he stood towering over me, his eyes burning into me with the fury of a vengeful god. I was speechless. "How does he know that I know what he really is?" I thought.

"Because one of my talents is mind reading. And you call yourself a Quesla," he scoffed, his arms crossing along his defined chest.

I crossed my own arms in a similar way, turning and attempting to walk away from him. I failed. He grabbed shoulder and spun me around with more force than a normal human would possess.

"Don't walk away from me. If you are truely a Quesla you will stay and try to kill me," he said, mocking me with my own call to duty. His violet eyes shot through to my very soul when I locked my own hazel eyes onto his. The breeze was playing with his fine, white hair, lifting pieces of it and throwing them into his beautiful face.

"Contrary to what you might believe, I didn't come here hunting you down. I don't hunt demons I just kill the ones who hurt those around me," I answered angrily. "So I propose a deal," I suggested, thinking as I spoke. "As long as you don't harm anyone anywhere, I won't attack. But, the minute you lay a finger on someone with the intent to do harm, I let my weapons fly."

He thought for a moment, turning my words over in his head. Tasting them and probably prying into my thoughts to make sure I was sincere. Finally he answered "Fair enough." Nodding his head to me as he turned and walked away.

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