I never liked the thought of being alone, even though that was something I felt often even in a crowd of people. Always an outcast.


Opening my eyes in a daze, only to be stricken with a pounding headache as a good morning and metal bearing my wrists and ankles to a metal bed as a wakeup call was not what I was expecting.
My brain still felt like mush, as I tried to recollect as much as possible – the pain constantly prodding at my thoughts. Wiggling my toes, I narrowed my eyes my vision remaining shaky. But there were my toes, bouncing along to the sound of my body shifting against the metal.
I expected to see my room, beige walls, a flat screen monitor to match the flat screen TV, a wide bay window with a view of endless ocean and the welcoming calls of the variety of singing birds. But much to my dismay, the walls where a mental hospital white, and they held no windows. There were no sounds except a robotic hum of a heart monitor, reminding me I was definitely alive.
Blinking a few times, just to triple check this wasn’t all a mirage I realized I was not the only one to hold a beating heart in the room, which for some reason comforted me, as strange as that sounds. Doing my best to push off the metal bed, I managed to sit up slightly, feeling my gangly skinny abdomen whine in pain. There lay a girl, completely out to the world with a messy halo of brunette curls sprawled out on the metal.
I’m sure I resembled something like a deer in headlights, knowing I had to get out of the way but frozen in place. Well, I was trapped in place. My brain was shouting for freedom, but my muscles wouldn’t cooperate, feeling rigid and almost paralyzed. Each muscle in my body sprouted in pain at a different time, especially my right arm. A sore circle almost circulated out from my forearm and refused to fade away.
The girl let out a quiet moan, followed by a sharp exhale of breath. The sound bouncing off the ceaseless white walls. I didn’t take my eyes off her, as creepy as that may sound and suddenly had the urge to tussle my dirty blonde hair, feeling the fine ends run over my forehead as I turned my head.
The girl, flickered her eyes to me – a bright panicked green, and then she narrowed them tightly as soon as she met up with my pale blue ones.
“Who are you?” She snapped, her voice hoarse and quick as she fidgeted only to result her falling back in the same position I was in, flat on the metal.
I bit my lip, never being one for interacting with people close to my age. I always got timorous, used to the mature behavior of my parents and their flock of high class friends. The interests of riding bikes and burping contests never had time to reach me.
“Landon.” I replied plainly, seeing her expression switch moods like a whirlwind, from apprehensive to distinctly pissed off and then back to apprehensive. She didn’t trust me, which at first I thought would be reasonable, but I was strapped to a table, what could I possibly do?
“I’m going to just guess, you are not like the man who kidnapped me earlier?” She said, her eyebrows rising so far her flustered skin wrinkled.
“Nope.” I replied, studying the attitude in her voice when the memories of my own flooded back, leaving the house quickly angry with my parent’s for once again planning to leave me alone. My mother in her red gown frowned in my dismissal but my father, in a tux just let out an aggravated sigh. The darkness left me jumpy and nervous, but I figured it’d be my best way to let my parent’s see my anger.
But I never got the chance to go back, when I walked into a tall guy, with heavy muscles, a sturdy punch, and an aim for my face. Then pain washed me over and left me seeing stars.
She just heaved out another sigh, bringing my eyesight back to the present and away from blurry memories.
“Did you get attacked too?” She asked, her eyes telling me that she already knew the answer as she skimmed my bruises.
“Yeah.” I said, noticing she hadn’t bothered to introduce herself. “Who are you?” I said my voice quiet, as if replying with more than one word was daunting.
“Desirae .” She said, her voice regaining a steady flow still parched. I looked up at the ceiling – just as white as the walls. I was surprised she wasn’t exploding in questions like what I was doing in my head; but not ready to blurt out loud. She just lay there studying the ceiling like I was. Finding nothing except the fact we were trapped.
“Does your arm hurt?” She said lightly, her green eyes more subtle as they flickered towards me.
“Everything hurts.” I said, realizing only too late what a wuss my words made me out to be. “My arm does hurt, though.” I continued, blinking away any more of my own critiques. Never happy with how my voice came out. Too squeaky to the one I compared in my head.
Before Desirae could answer, an aggravated voice rung down the hall,
“Let me go!” A gravelly voice spat, followed with an angry screech, the words un-audible.
I nearly peed my pants when the door flung open, only a large muscular arm seen holding the gruff of a muscular boy, his black hair hanging over his face as he fell on his hands and knees. A deep voice continued out in the hall, familiar to the one that I heard before getting my lights punched out.
“He bit me!” The deep voice spoke, unseen. The boy on the ground let out a dry laugh, sounding more of a cackle. The boy’s clothes were bloodstained, and the way he dressed, well sort of scared me. His black bootleg pants, covered in chains. A white band tee-shirt, well that wasn’t so white anymore, only a few thick black letters I could make out as he shifted, sitting awkwardly on his side.
I guess always I judged people by their looks, but mostly by their eyes. My dad being a lawyer always taught me that’s how you can figure a person out.
When the boy did look up, his eyes were a dark murky green, his pupils drowning like someone lost in a swamp. He wiped his palm over his face, staying on the cement ground – studying Desirae and I, the same way I studied him.
“Do I mind if I stare at you up close, rather then across the room?” He motioned towards Desirae, a heavy sideways smirk set across his bloodstained face.
Desirae replied by narrowing her eyes, a scowl creasing her eyebrows tight together. His smirk just got bigger.
“Griffin,” He said patting his chest, “Griffin Valas.” He said quavering his eyes between the both of us.
Desirae spoke up, not fazed by the commotion we heard earlier, or atleast not showing it. “Desirae Crane.” She said her lighter more peaceful eyes, yet still unreadable didn’t leave the cement ground, studying each and every speck of dirt. He nodded, taking it in his eyes shooting up to me, expecting the words to flow out. Just my name, I had to remind myself.
“Landon Cribshire.” My voice sounding out of key, too airy and frantic. Neither of them were like any one from the private school, Tiber Lane, I attended. Both of them dressed anything from a school uniform, or even Abercrombie. Neither of them even acting frightened of the fact we were randomly kidnapped by a bunch of tall strong guys. Or maybe they were just better actors then me. Hopefully.
“Did you guys get a shot too?” He asked, standing up from the ground – lucky he had free reign.
“I think, but I was out of it.” Desirae said, stretching out her arm.
The door opened, a gust of cold air followed the tall muscular man, resembling the man who had attacked me, but he was a bit shorter and stouter, more wrinkles lining his face, his hair graying. He shot a look at Griffin, and if looks could kill, he’d be dead on the ground. But Griffin simply stared back, his murky eyes screaming anger.
His footsteps clanked against the ground, too loud as they hit the cement and his sandpaper hands freed me from the metal bed. He did the same for Desirae, but a permanent scowl never left his face as I scurried to my feet, Desirae hopping onto hers.
“You three.” He said, studying us, his dark eyebrows heavyset into his face, as if in disbelief. “Will be shaking up this world.” He said with a dark chuckle.