The Division.

The Division-- Chapter 1.

Chapter 1:

I'd been hearing my grandpas stories for as long as i could remember. Some were funny and others gave me nightmares, but I didn't tell anyone that. My parents, Ben and Allison Gray, were wealthy like celebrity status wealthy, My mom made a career in the fashion industry, she even was a journalist for awhile. My dad was Theropist for a short time, now he's a owns a holdings company, at least they did in this lifetime anyways, I guess that's a perk of having... Endless lives. Plenty of chances to do it all and get it right? We moved around alot, Living In Minnesota for awhile, L.A. was next- followed by a few towns in Pennsylvania. finally we settled in New York. i had a pretty comfortable childhood besides the fact that I rarely saw my parents.

These days mostly They both worked for the government in facilities all around the globe. Doing what? I didn't know. I was usually under the constant care of my nannies, I literally had a different one for every day of the week, most didn't speak English. My mom said it'd give me some diversity, if I was lucky I'd go to the daycare located within a private school, St. Alliston's Prep. I was told I'd attend yearly when I was older. It was for special people, they'd tell me. It seemed to be out of a story book.

I was four years old when my grandpa moved into my parents' house. I wasn't complaining, it made most of the nannies go away. After he moved in, he started to tell me different kinds of stories-stories with no happy ends or princesses with long golden hair.
That night was also the first night he told me a story about the powerful, yet terrible war that'd been raging on for centuries; a war between the hunters and the hunted, as he called them. At the time I was too young to understand any of it. To me it all just seemed like make believe stories. No truth to them that I could grasp.

As he was getting more in depth with the story, my mother interrupted suddenly causing me to sigh loudly, listening intently to her saying I was too young for that kind of story, she simply didn't want it to scare me, When I pleaded to hear more. All three pairs of eyes were focused on me and I couldn't help but wonder why. It was just a story, wasn't it?

My mom and Uncle Sam were suddenly stone-faced as they stared at me. I caught a glimpse of a flash of fear in her eyes for a moment-fear of what my grandpa would say, but also fearing perhaps my uncle would contribute to it. By then I was confused. I didn't understand why my mother was making a big deal over a story, silly nonsense. Child's play.

Grandpa told me stories like this all the time, though I doubt she knew it. However, most of these stories seemed to be more true rather than fictional.
The clock that hung above the fire place chimed loudly. My mom announced there'd be no more story-telling tonight. Grandpa agreed unexpectedly, I think it was only because he knew how mad she was. My Uncle came to hug me and said he'd come visit again tomorrow. He always says that yet never comes, he's a busy man. Or just lazy.

My mom looked at me with a soft smile on her face, "Amelia its past your bedtime. please go on now, we have a busy morning." She muttered, as she and my uncle hastily left the room. I watched them go. I could hear them talking in the distance. But I couldn't make out any of it.

I turned and looked at my Grandpa, he simply sat there with that days newpaper in hand still smiling at me, motioning for me to come back over, I stood in front of him, I grinned a bit then sighed deeply, he chuckled, seeing my dismayed look.

"Fear not, my sweet Mila. We'll have more stories another time. I promise." He hesitated breifly. "Better yet, have your father tell you some when he returns from London tomorrow. His memory is far better then mine." He said, hugging me tightly before saying I was to obey mom, which meant off to bed or to turn on a movie.

When I got to the doorway, I paused for a moment "Grandpa, do you think when I grow up, I can be like the people in your story? The ones that make the bad things go away?" I blurted out suddenly, yet keeping my gaze to the floor. fearing what the answer would be.
He looked up from his paper, as if to watch me carefully before considering how to answer, but all he said was, "I believe so, yes. Someday. When you're all grown up, and im not here anymore. " He answered, gesturing for me to leave before My mom came back. I did, hastily made my way upstairs and into my room only moments before I heard my mom downstairs speaking angrily at him. I again couldn't make out any words.