Prologue

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  • Dedicated to my friends - you've always stood by me, even when I was wrong.
                                    

The girl hobbled down the slick black pavement that glowed softly under the dim streetlights in the silent night. There was no noise whatsoever; no distant traffic sounds of blazing horns or the irritated yells of exhausted taxi drivers running their double shift. There was nothing. She was completely alone. Her ankle hung at an awkward angle as she limped along. A dark black form loomed behind her at only twenty paces, gaining on her quickly as the seconds ticked by.

“Run faster!” I called, my voice frantic, but of course she did not hear me. They never did in these dreaded precognitive visions. Time after time, I wished desperately for them to hear me, but they couldn’t. I supposed it was a part of this terrible curse of mine that I was apparently destined to have. What cruel joke of fate was this, I wondered, to have foresight of troubled futures?

She stumbled again, and caught herself – but only just. She had a slim frame; it looked like it had been weeks since she had eaten a full, solid meal. Her clothes were less than complimentary to her figure and hung off her tiny frame. My God, but she was a girl of maybe seventeen. She wore a black, baggy sweater with the hood up, a faded pair of ratty old jeans with a hole in one knee and dirt all down the front of them, and tattered converse that could hardly constitute as shoes. Her hood shielded her face and hair from my line of vision, but it was obvious she was in her youth. My eyes crinkled in sadness. She was too young to have this happen to her.

She couldn’t run like this, with that ankle of hers so obviously broken. For goodness’ sake, she could only just stumble along, if I dared even call it that. Forget running. The figure – it was obviously a male with the large build and signature walk – that stalked her was less than ten strides away now. He knew he would get her. How could he not? I grimaced. Men always did have the upper hand physically.

The girl must have realized he was nearly right on her heels now, though he wasn’t being conspicuous about hounding after her. They both knew he was going to win. Even so, she lurched forward in vain, teetered for a few seconds, and let out a cry of pain as her ankle gave way beneath her. She didn’t try to get up – it would have been a futile attempt, and she knew she didn’t have a chance. I wanted to scream out; I wanted to help her, save her. Unfortunately, my feet were firmly rooted to wherever this was from which I watched in horrified silence.

As the man reached roughly for her, she shifted her body toward him and using the last bit of fight she had available, spat in his face. Fury filled his gaze, transforming his eyes into a fiery red as he brought his fist forward and backhanded her across the jaw. Words caught in my throat as her hood fell back, revealing a face I knew only too well accompanied with shiny, bluish-black hair that grew stick straight and ended just past her shoulders. My eyes grew wide in terror and a feeling of absolute dread settled in the pit of my stomach.

The girl in the vision was me.

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