Prologue

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Aria:    Age:17  Eye color:Light green  Element: Ice

Damon:   Age:17  Eye color: blue 

When I turned eight teen I didn't expect  that I would be in a three-year battle to destroy my enemy. I wasn't expecting to fall in love or have a best friend that was some-what normal. Those, long, three years were complete hell filled with love, hate, blood, and a lot of secrets.

This wasn't your normal run-of-the-mill story. We wern't in a small little town were the sheriff starts acting weird and ends up killing everybody. No. We were in a pretty abundant town where the local diner doesn't know your name unless you went there every Sunday for their pancake special. As to where we lived, well.. my dad  never liked the city. He was a germaphobe. That's what lead us and a cocky real estate agent out into the country where we had a few acres of grass, trees, squirrels, and lots of deer.

I wasn't very impressed with the fiery man. His ingenious smirk had me disgusted. That is until he showed me a outdoor guest house with a built-in kitchen and bathroom. After that I was sold. I was so in love with the house that even at five years old I was prepared to buy it with all the money in my pink piggy.

A year later my sisters mate turned on her. He slashed her arms, hit her repetitively, and scared her half to death. Literally. When my parents walked in he had a knife to her throat. Abby's, my sister, excuse was that he was drunk. I was only six at that time, but I was smart. I knew that wasn't the case.

Since that scarring event I have sworn away dating. Yes, there were many hot guys who have asked me on movie dates and dinner dates. I can recall a gorgeous ginger, with flowers and a heart shaped box of Russel Stevens chocolate, who asked me to go with him on a hot balloon ride. I was just a young pup; a freshman when this happened. I still kick myself for not saying yes..

I was also a hairy beast as movie critics would say. I was a lycanthrope. Or, in Sy-Fi terms, a werewolf. It has been rumoured and story-told for centuries that we come into villages and indulge in their children's and family's blood and muscle. And from some research on the internet I had found that werewolf sightings dated back to the fifteenth century still had a humanly figure, covered with hair of course. I also found out that during the supposed sightings of werewolves, the witnesses saw yellow glowing eyes that put fear in your bones. That is why our kind are so remarkably popular in the horror genera. It's different in the real world though. There is what we call a Element Pack which has several modern-day element wolves. Every wolf in the element packs has a power. And it is a very rare thing when a wolf has, what's called a forbidden power, a dark element. By the time they are born, to the time their power is discovered; their fate has been decided.

   I was in the principle's office for the third time this month. I sat in the same chair and tapped my foot out of impatience. I had to admit that the principle was very slow with her duties. I just wanted to get this visit over with so I could go home. Some of the teachers came and gone and offered some friendly banter with me. I gradually excepted it after the third teacher that came in. After an eternity of lying in wait, she came. Suit and all. She waved her hand for me to follow her into her office.

Her lecture this time was about my grades. She carefully asked what was going on in my home life. She had noticed that my grades have gone to shit and that I've racked up more detentions then the years I've lived.

"You are one of the brightest students I've ever had in all my years of teaching. And I want to help you get back on track. I know that you'll thank me if you accept my help." I strangely respected the woman. She was only in her twenties, she wasn't senile yet. She was serious about this offer.

I stood up from my chair and stepped towards the closed door before she said," I hope that you feel better-emotoionally. I'm not doing this for me Aria. I just want to help you get back up on your feet." I found myself stopped at the door, biting my lip and slipping into deep thought. I wanted to get better to

My hand slammed down on the door handle. I twisted it angrily and threw the door open, walking fast down the long office hallways that I was all to familiar with. I barely paid attention to the color posters and art stapled to the wall in a unorganized fashion. 

I was a emotional mess; I've come to that conclusion. Yes, I did want to get better and bounce back to my old self but.. memories have been resurfacing from old waters. And let me tell you, these memories were not from Disneyland where I got to meet Belle. These memories were from hell. The glass-like, delicate memories, weren't things to be messed with. Of course, the things that happened to me shouldn't have been done at all.... but  life's a real mean bitch. 

***

 The journey home was the normal 20-minute bus ride, including my half broken ear buds. With all the screaming and shouting of trivial things, music, loud music was needed. I was suddenly relieved that the familiar whir of evergreen trees was outside the hand printed window. I got up, walked quickly down the isle then stepped heavily on the three stairs. The sound of my boots hitting the gravel thrilled me. I was finally off the homework hook and on to the spring break one. It was finally time for surfboards, board shirts, and hook-ups.

I've been telling myself for weeks now that this time will be different. I'll find a attractive, muscular guy with dark hair and eyes. We would find a remote shack to do thee deed. Afterwards, we would laugh and get dressed together, not worried about seeing each other naked. and his hand would come close to my cheek, gracefully pulling me towards his cherry lips for one last kiss in solitude before we had to set foot back into the real world...

That's all I wanted. I wanted a Hollywood-made love story. I wanted a attractive guy to fall for me, protect me, and love me unconditionally throughout my worries and doubts.

I wanted to run my fingers through his dark, soft hair. The lust in my eyes would be there in his too. He would kiss me more passionately as the seconds went by. My nerves would be bouncing all around, causing his touch to be ten times more intense then it actually is. But I didn't care. I wanted him so bad that I didn't care that the 17th centry vase was pushed off the little wooden nightstand and shattered into more than a million pieces. And he would set me down on that nightstand rather roughly, then grab my shirt and rip it apart; buttons flying everywhere. Then he would slam back down on my lips. And in time, take me into his pleasurable embrace of not only him, but his little buddy too.

My eyes opened to the darkness. Slowly, it dawns on me that none of it was real. It, he, was just a dream. Talk about depressing..

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