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     Blood covers every corner of the room. It turns the once stark, white walls, scarlet. In, the center of the room sits a figure tied to a chair. Her dark hair covers part of her face and her eyes are focused on the door in front of her. She is waiting for the door to open. She knows once it does, her nightmare will start over again. The room floods with light and she closes her eyes, praying for the darkness to return.

  At seven a.m, the last thing anyone wants to hear is an alarm going off. Unfortunately for me, this is exactly what happens at seven a.m. Ignoring my body’s silent scream to go back to sleep, I reluctantly throw off the blankets. I grab a quick shower and dress in skinny jeans with a long black sleeve tee shirt. I slip on my white converse and a white scarf before putting my hair up in a messy bun. I grab my bag and head downstairs to tell Rose goodbye and grab a muffin. It takes me about ten minutes to find the wooden building that will be my prison for the next few years. I follow the crowd inside until I find the office. Before I can even open the door, a small woman with dark curly hair and a huge smile emerges.

“You must be Mia Wolfe. We are so excited that you are here. I cannot believe another Wolfe is passing through our doors. It seems like just yesterday that your dad was here. Now, here is your schedule and locker combination. Let me know if you need anything.”

“I will, thanks,” I say.

She walks back into the office and I head down the hallway in the direction I assume my first class is. I’m so busy looking at my schedule, I don’t notice the person careening towards me until they are practically on top of me.

“Crap, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to run into you.”

I look up from my newfound spot on the floor and into the face of a dark-haired boy with matching eyes and cute smile.

“Let me help you up,” he says, offering his hand.

“Thanks,” I say. I take his hand and pull myself up from the floor.

“No problem. Again, I’m sorry about running into you.”

“Don’t worry about it. No harm, no foul,” I say.

“I haven’t seen you around before. Are you new?”

“That obvious, huh?”

He shakes his head, “no. I know almost everyone around here and I haven’t seen you around before.”

“Well, you would be correct. It’s my first day.”

He sticks his hand out and slips me a slight smile. “I’m Seth. Seth Clearwater.”

“Mia, Mia Wolfe.”

I take his outstretched hand and it is suddenly like everything becomes perfectly clear. Electricity shoots up my arm and everything looks so much clearer. My breath catches in my throat, somehow Seth and I are a breath away. We jump apart, and he rubs the back of his neck, awkwardly. We spend the next few minutes in silence as we walk down the hallway. I’m not sure what happened, but neither one of us wants to talk about it. After a few minutes of silence, Seth attempts conversation. He tells me about La Push and I tell him about living in New York. When we finally reach my class, I completely forget about the moment we had. We say our goodbyes and I grab a seat at the back of the class. The teacher is a man with light blonde hair, khakis, and a blue button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up halfway. He writes on the board and everyone pulls out their notebooks.

“Everyone have a seat. My name is Mr. Walsh or Mr. W. I see that we have a new face amount us today, Miss…” He looks down at his class roster and then back up at me. “Wolfe, is it? I grew up with quite a few of your relatives I believe. Why don’t you stand up and tell the class a little about yourself?”

I clear my throat before standing up. “Um… my name is Mia and I’m from New York. My parents grew up here in La Push and my grandmother still lives here. I came to live with her because I needed a change of scenery,” I say.

Mr. Walsh nods, “thank you. Now, if everyone will please turn their attention to the front of the board. We will continue with yesterday’s lesson. Miss. Wolfe, if you have any questions feel free to interrupt.”

He starts the lesson and class gets underway and for one hour he has our full-blown attention.

     His pulse is racing at all the pain he imagines he can inflict. The second he saw her, he knew she was the one. She’s perfect. He restrains himself though. Oh, how he would enjoy ripping her open. He can’t wait to watch it, soon the fantasy he has had for years will become a reality. Not yet though, the game isn’t ready yet. Playing it too soon could ruin the fun. So, he will wait until he finds the perfect moment. He has been waiting for sixteen years for this moment… what’s a few more days?