Mayhem's Children

I never thought any one would want this. Well, he wasn't anyone. He was Caspar BlackWood. Of course a few months back this was just the name of some school wanna be bad boy. I didn't know back then. In comparison to the knowledge I've obtained in my short stay at CreekGrown, I feel wiser, then I was naïve and ignorant now anything is possible. Even if that anything involves illegal weapon and parts trading, kidnap, drugs, murder and worst of all falling into a love that no one expected and no one could help you get up from. Not even yourself.

  Through learning and watching I have found out three things. One; He doesn't want this, but he has no choice. Two; I don't want this, I'm going to take this, I have a choice. Three; I'll fall all over again and land  myself in the middle of biker gang war, barely escape rape multiple times, accidently abuse drugs and alcohol, find a family in the least unlikely places, and fall again. All for him. I would do this all over again, for him.

 This is why.

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  Charm’s POV____

 I’m going to fast forward. Beyond my not so tragic childhood, beyond my conflicted emotions on why my parents abandoned me, leaving me in small town with family I still didn’t know how I was related to, beyond my sudden hatred towards my aunt, and my discomfort with my grandmother, and the bond that was quickly formed with my neighbor Noah.

 Instead I’m going straight to the part where I’m lying on a bunch of dead bodies, while I refuse to move because a very husky yet velvety voice is reciting poetry at 6:30 in the morning. My cousin Noah insisted on meeting me in CreekGrown Graveyard, which is what came to mind when I said “Let’s Meet Half Way.” He supposed to be my ride, and he refused to come by the house again, so now here I am…

It kind of started like this:

 I walked around the tomb stones, as I dreaded  my first day of school, being the new girl sucked, but surprisingly what I dreaded  most was  going home, my great aunt gave me the creeps. I was thinking about anything that wouldn’t let me think about the dead bodies that I was walking on top of. I strolled as my combat boots scuffed the ground. Why was it so hot? No better question why was I dressed like it was fall, with jeans and a sweater, oh yeah that’s right, because it should be fall!

 I cursed at global warming under my breath, as I charm Redbird, the biggest klutz in the world, fell. Yes, you heard it here first; I can’t walk and talk (to myself) at the same time, without eating dirt. I’m just so naturally UN coordinated.

“Great just fudging great” I mumbled, rising from the ground. I was behind a big tree, and no one was around to see me fall. Yes! Cool, you still have your dignity just get up slowly. Maybe the dead were laughing at me from beyond the grave.

 “I can’t bring myself to do it

 I can’t bring myself to stay

i don’t fit

I’ll just stray away.”  

 I looked around from where that voice was coming from. But no one was here. I frowned and continued to rise. The voice was nice, it was…attractive. It was husky and deep but at the same time velvety. Whoever the person was, he was saying this with so much pain. I looked over the tomb stone only to see a figure in the distance. It was a male, he wore black and that’s as much as I could see. I scanned quickly until I found a closer, bigger tree. As slick as I could possibly muster I crawled to the tree. Yeah, I probably looked like an idiot crawling in a graveyard like some kind of wanna-be-ninja. But I needed to get closer to hear more.