With nothing left to live for but so much to die for, death is inviting. I would miss the sun, but living by moonlight promised more than I could have hoped for; Darius. I'm not afraid of the dark anymore.

:::Chapter One - Haunted:::

It was dark -I hate the dark -and unlike me, I was walking alone up the grimy winding road that ran behind the back of Clapham Junction train station clutching my well-worn leather biker jacket to my frame (the zip had broken a while back and I couldn't afford to get it fixed).

The icy rain pelted down heavily from the soot coloured clouds that rolled and churned dangerously against the night sky from the velocity of the wind. British weather was not known for being the most pleasant, but in my 18 years of life I had never seen it this miserable. My boyish black bob was stuck to my face and neck encouraging the rain to run down into my jacket and wet my t-shirt that I was trying so hard to keep dry. I was definitely going to have a cold in the morning.

Aside from the pummelling sound of the rain, the only other sound I could hear was the squeaking and squelching of my rain-soaked ratty black converses as I stepped along the slimy pavement, leaving sludgy footprints behind me. I silently wished that Ziggy was here to fill the silence with her manic musings and Guns and Roses 'Welcome to the Jungle' playing so loud from her headphones that I could make out every word, and the dull thump of her patent yellow Dr Martens leaving dirty shoe prints alongside my ones, but she wasn't.

As I squinted through the rain and looked around me I realised that there wasn't anyone around. No cars shooting down the road like it was a racing strip, no one leaving the station, not even a few fellow residents of the estate that was directly opposite making their way home. That was unusual.

Clapham Junction was never silent. I couldn't even make out the thunderous rumblings of the buses driving down Falcon Road or the loud click-clacking of the trains rolling across the old bridge. There was nothing, just me. How late was it?

I fished into my bag for my phone so that I could check the time: midnight. It was late, but not late enough for me to be the only person outside.

Suddenly every available light source from nearby buildings to street lamps went out. It was as if God had taken a huge breath and blown them all out.  

I stopped walking. Something was wrong and I felt foolish for not realising it sooner. Regardless of if this area happened to be exceptionally quiet, this was London. Silence doesn't exist in London.

My heart beat tripled in my chest as the panic of sensory deprivation set in. It was so dark that I couldn't even see my hand in front of my face, and the ominous clouds had blocked out the stars and the moon. If it wasn't for the unremitting splattering of the rain I may have believed that I had gone deaf. I didn't know what to do with myself; should I continue to walk and try to feel my way home or should I wait for the lights to come back on?

A roll of thunder shook the skies and my already frazzled nerves, before a flash of electric white lightening split the sky and I was granted my first glimpse of my surroundings since the lights went out. In that split second of distorted colourless vision I wished that I hadn't because my in my panic my mind had gone into overdrive and I could've sworn I saw a tall dark figure walking towards me.

I held my breath and listened for foreign footsteps but there were none, just rain.

"Who's there?" I yelled into the night no longer clutching my jacket to me. If someone was out there on a night like this I had to be prepared; I needed my hands free.

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