In the eyes of midnight

Chapter 1

I've always loved to look up at the sky and watch the sun rise and fall. I love to watch the sky turn pink as the sun shuffles down, casting shadows onto the trees, causing them to give off blackened greens.

The dirt underneath my feet is cool, making the overly warm breeze all the more soothing. The night sky always facinated me. I always wondered why animals were attracted to the moon and the stars; why the owl hooted at the stars and the coyote howled at the moon.

I never knew why Coyotes howled at the moon. I guess in reality they're calling out to others in their pack, but what if its something more. Something deeper than science; deeper than logic. What if it signified finding the light at the end of a treacherous tunnel in which contained all of your biggest fears; your kryptonite. What if it meant more than just 'howling at the moon'? What if it signified guidence and hope, or that one thing to make your whole life a better place.

The only stars that shine in my caliginous life are the ones over my head, twinkling without a care in the world; yet sometimes even they are hard to spot.

Age six was when my life started plummeting down to its death. I was diagnosed with Acute Myeloid leukemia, or AML, a cancer that can mess with the bone marrow and how blood is made.

On top of that, my parents started to fight everyday ever since my eleventh birthday and I don't have very many friends.

I just slip onto my balcony and climb down the small ladder when they start to explode at each other with loud yells and obviously poorly thoughtout lies. I would walk down to the small woodland area and read, or photograph the animals I see. This has been a nightly routine for about six years now, and honestly, I don't know if this is how my life should have played out.

I sat at the edge of the small lake as I thought about how my life would be like if my parents didn't fight; if I didn't have cancer. The only problem that I can think of is that if I didn't have cancer and if my parents didn't fight and got along just like they use to when I was younger, someone else would develop these problems.

I'm not saying that I'm the only one who has these particullar problems, but I mean come on; why me? Why did I have to be the chosen one; the one that was chosen to have leukemia and to have their parents fight all the time?

A snap brought me out of my trance and I jumped up and onto my feet. I quickly hid behind a large tree and slowed my breathing.

A small voice emerged and a hushed hello sounded.

With a quivering voice i muttered a equally as quiet hey back. The unknown voice sounded like that of a boys; a teenage boy.

Slowly, I came out of hiding and was quite suprised when i saw a boy about sixteen or seventeen.

"Hello. My name is Ky O'Brian. I didn't expect to run into anybody up here."

"I-I'm Kasi." I muttred.

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I sneaked a look at my phone and saw that it was about 2:30.

"Crap. I need to get home. See you later Ky!" i yelled, my voice trailing off as I got further and further away.

I took the usual route home, in which consisted of me jumping over six fallen trees, dodging almost ten muddy puddles and falling over into sticker bushes, or as i like to call them, the thornes of death.

Suddenly my breath started to falter and my running got slower and slower. Within the nextfive minutes, my breath was almost completly gone, and within seconds, I was unconsious on the ground.

I woke up in a small, dark room. I could see everything, but it wasn't very clear. My head was pounding and my stomach churned and gurgled. There was a building pressure in the back of my throat, and I realized that the pressure was vomit wanting to escape the hold of my gurgling stomach.

I leaned off to the side as the contents of my stomach spewed out of my mouth as if it were a faucet. Once I thought I was done, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, before leaning back over the slowly building mountain of vomit as my stomach lurched and the painful war between me and vomit mountain began.

Eventually, my stomach decided to rest a little. I sat there, taking in labored breaths, and a door I didn't know was there, opened slowly.

"Oh good. Your awake," it sounded like this person had been running, as his breathing pattern was very heavy, "we need to get out of here. NOW!" He yelled, hurrying towards me.

Before I could warn him, he tripped on what looked like a backpack and face-planted into the mountain of vomit about five feet away. He groaned, before abruptly sitting up, spitting whatever was in his mouth, out.

I cringed back, seeing as he just spit out my vomit. I gagged and quickly looked away as the unknown man added to Vomit Mountain.

"S-sorry, I-I just couldn't sp-speak. I'm sorry. P-please f-forgive m-m-m-me. p-p-p-lea-please." I begged. I wanted to befriend this person just so they wouldn't go to the 'Dark Side', as some people remember it.

"Why apologize? I mean, you obviously didn't get sick on purpose, right?" He asked.

"Correct; and may i ask who you are?I mean I feel that I know you, but I just- I just can't." I explained.

"Y-you don't r-remem-member m-me?" The man asked quietly, tears slowly welling in his eyes, before slowly falling freely down his face.