Every Which Way

Escaping The Curse

My name is Willow Kylio Bliss. I'm 17 and at the end of this month I will start my senior year in highschool. I'm not exactly goth, but I like to wear dark clothes and listen to heavy metal music. I'm currently on a plane that will soon land in La Push, Washington. I am leaving behind my home town, the little friends I have, my dark past, and,hopefully, my curse, It's not a real curse, as far as I know, but that's what I think of it as, because it has brought pain, fear and death to my life. So before I continue to tell you about the present, I will first tell you about my past.

On October 17, 1999, in Savannah, Georgia, a blonde, blue eyed baby girl was born. Me. I was a bubbly, happy kid and then my 4th birthday came around and that's when it all started. Slowly, within a few weeks after my birthday my hair had turned jet black and my bright blue eyes turned to a hazel that is so light and intense they looked gold. One month later, my friend had me over to spend the night. It was late and we were in the basement that doubled as a playroom. We were watching SpongeBob when we heard loud pounding on the front door and heavy footsteps across the floor, but we paid it no attention. Only a few moments later there was screaming, crying and two deafening bangs that came from up the staircase. We turned off the TV and everything fell silent. My friend was crying silently and I tried to calm her. Finally, she decided she wanted to go and check on her parents to see if they were ok. I was scared out of my mind and I tried to keep her from greeting whatever horrors awaited her at the top of the stairs, but she didn't listen. All I could do was watch as she cautiously ascended the stairs and as soon and she reached the top, another deafening bang broke the silence, her lifeless body tumbled down the staircase, and a pool of blood started to form around her head. I screamed and ran out of the basement door, desperate to find a neighbor and in the process I was shot in the side. The first of my many scars. I saw a nearby car on and running. I hopped in and I begged the driver to drive and asked to borrow their phone. On the way to the hospital, I called 911 to report the shooting and then called my parents. Right before I became unconscious, all I could think about was watching as the life drain from my best friends eyes, then everything went black. That night my "curse" took its first victims.

As the years went by my dad became a drunk and my mom just stopped caring altogether. It even got so bad that my parents verbal fights ended up with someone in the hospital. It was mostly me because I would always interrupt my parents fights and either one would hurt me. My bones have been fractured, crushed, and broken. I had occasionally been cut by my dad's hand but the few on my wrists were from me. I had even tried committing suicide twice.

One day I went to school and in the middle of the day a kid pulled out a gun and started firing upon the crowd of students. My boyfriend (first and only since then), and I ran to find cover, but the kid singled us out for some reason. When was he about to shoot my boyfriend I quickly stepped in front of him, but when the shot was fired the bullet went straight through me and into my love behind me, instantly killing him. I just allowed myself to fall to the ground waiting for death to come, but it never did. When I got home from the hospital, I found my parents lying in large pools of blood. A pasty white man with blood red eyes was standing over them, smiling with what I assumed was their blood covering his mouth. As fast as light, he stepped over to me, grabbed me by the waist, and sank his teeth into my neck. My first meeting with a vampire. I went unconscious a few moments after, feeling that death was certain. I was disappointed to wake up in the hospital only days later. I was sent to an orphanage and was adopted many times by horrible people, but when I finally found a nice family, they, too, died.

We were driving down the road one night and something suddenly slammed into the side of the car, making it roll over a few times. It came to a stop but stayed upside down. Only moments later I was ripped from the car by a pair of strong arms and drug into the nearby woods. In the distance I heard a loud explosion which told me my adopted parents were dead. The man carrying me sat me by a tree and then making sure I was watching sunk his teeth into my bare, bloody wrist. Then with a smile he stood up and vanished. About 15 minutes later the police, firemen, and medics arrived and pronounced my parents dead. Surprisingly, they found me in the woods and took me to the hospital. The next morning I woke up and my social worker was next to my bed. She tells me that a nice, but very young couple has adopted me and that they live in rainy La Push, Washington. Basically the colder version of Georgia, but instead of war history it has Native American history. She also told me that my best friend, Danika(a.k.a Renita meaning rebel) who was an orphan and also suicidal, went missing. We did everything together, we were almost inseparable and now she gone, too. That was the day that I had truly cried in what seemed like forever. Once again I had been abandoned and felt completely alone in this world full of people.

A week later all of my things, including my black Silverado, was ready to be shipped out. Just as I was about to climb into the taxi, an old woman stops me and starts talking in a very serious tone. She tells me that she knows about my past and has something that will help me on my journey through life. She hands me a silver dagger that has the name "Raven" engraved on each side. I find it weird because that's what all of the people who know about my history (my one close friend that went missing) call me. Then I got into the cab and it drove away, taking me to the plane that would lead to another fresh start.