Mixed Up {On Hold}

Prologue

- P R O L O G U E -

My name, you ask? I’m Aiden Carter Walker. I’m seventeen years old. My world? Let’s just say it shouldn’t exist; I shouldn’t exist. I would be scared if I were you. I know I am and I’m the one living it.

I’m locked in my room. People think I’m crazy. People judge me before they even get to know me. Each and every single one of them thinks there’s something wrong with me. Maybe there is, I don’t know. I only have one thing to say to them. You know what that is? I’m your worst nightmare.

I look just like any other guy: shaggy black hair, gray eyes. I would say that maybe I was a little more attractive though. That’s because of what I am. What am I? You’ll find out soon enough. I will tell you that I am very much alive, even if my heart does not beat; it stopped as soon as I fell. I am scorned by hatred, and torn by love. I am too ashamed to ever feel love again, but that doesn’t mean I won’t. What has happened in the past, has happened for a reason. There is no going back now to change it.

I have been through so much already; you don’t even know. No one can seem to trust me; I can’t even trust myself at times. I don’t know my real parents. I’ve heard stories that they are dead; died in some tragic accident that no one knows the details to. I never did know them. I was only a year old when I was put into my first foster home. I don’t even have a family to go to; no known relatives can be found.

I can’t tell you how many foster homes I have been in and out of. I know no one wants me. I am now living with another foster family at this moment. They seem nice, but I can sense the fear running through their veins; they hide it behind their disguises. They know what I am. They know what I can do. Too bad I can still get out of this hell hole. They think they have locked me in. Ha, yeah right.

Ever since I have moved in with these people, I have had a dream; more like a reoccurring nightmare.

The field stretches all around. Fire is drawing closer and closer towards the center. Only a small circle is left for freedom. You can hear the wind pick up, but there’s something else there. The beating of wings can be heard, filling the air around. Voices are calling out; silent whispers coming from the atmosphere.

The pain starts in my back, close to my shoulder blades, eventually becoming overwhelming. Black, sharp, feathered wings sprout out of where the pain had started, piercing my skin like daggers. A scar on the inside of my wrist glows, proving that I am one of them now. It’s a pair of angel wings; except these matching those on my back.

I don’t know what it means; it hasn’t happened yet. One day, though, this world is going to break out into a war; a war of two kinds. I’m the one that is right in the middle of it all; I don’t have a side to fight with. I am against those that come from below me. The ones that are above me don’t trust me. I have to fight to win the trust of the right side. Only I don’t know how to make that happen. I’m scared for my life with these black wings signifying what I am. I have the mark on my wrist to prove it. They would never let me back in.

Simply remember this one thing, even if you forget everything else: I am your worst nightmare.