Wake.

Chapter One: Welcome To Otaka High

~=Chapter One=~

~=Welcome To Otaka High=~

I looked around at the school, and the size was intimidating. How could a school be so big?! I wandered around aimlessly until I managed to find my first class.The teacher appeared uninterested in his own lesson as he drowned on. I paid little to no attention; I was thinking of something else. 'A new school,' I reminded myself, 'A new start. A chance to start over.'

"I see we have a new student" he said, as I snapped to attention. All eyes, whether they be interested or malicious, were on me. I shrank into my seat.

"Would you please tell the class your name," he asked. I swallowed hard. "My name's Elise Peterson," I explained.

"And where have you come from?" he questioned.

"Manhattan."

"Very interesting Elise, we're happy you could join us. Now, don't forget your homework. Have a good lunch." The class replied with a melody of voices. As everyone raced to lunch, I was the quiet one in back, just trying to get by. I didn't know anyone, so who would I have to talk to, anyway. I found a table astray from the chaos, and I sat. I pulled out my schetchbook that, by the way, never left my side, and tried to draw myself away.

Some people say that art can give you refuge, that it can give you an escape from our issues. I'm not one to give into superstition, but I kind of believe it. Ever since I was young, I've men seeing things. Things that no one else could see. This happens rarely, but the issue is that I'd forget what I saw soon after, and in some cases, immediately. So, whenever this happens, I try and sketch it out. I took an art class I'm my old school, so I think that I've improved. The thing is that I was never able to draw it fast enough, but with time, I try to get better each time. My dad sAid that I had a more vivid imagination, and that I had gotten it from my mom.

We...don't talk about her much. Not that I know what happened, I'm extremely curious in fact, but my dad doesn't like to talk about her. Every time I bring her up, or anything involving her, he changes the subject without hesitation. Is something wrong? What could possibly be so serious that he'd hide it from me for so long? These thoughts began to fill my head as I scribbled away, not even realizing I was sketching at all. I looked at the book and found not pictures, but different words and phrases.

"Answers; Beginnings; Dark angels ; This is where it ends; This is where it begins; Darkness." All these and similar phrases, all over the page. I began to get scared; why would I draw this? What could this actually mean? I quickly stuffed it back into my bag before anyone had time to read it. I looked around, hoping that I would find who, if anyone, this was directed towards. And, I guess, that was the first time I saw Him.

The grey hood of his jacket covered most of his face, aside from his ominous blue eyes and some of his sleek black hair. He walked past, and I had an odd feeling that something was different. I looked back at my sketchbook, and the words were gone. I could've sworn that he had stared at me, even if it may have been for a second, but I would'nt have seen him do so.

I couldn't comprehend what had compelled me to do so, but I decided to try and talk to him. Couldn't hurt, could it?

"Hey," I hesitantly called to him. He continued walking, not acknowledging my greeting. I tried again, and again he persisted. "I'm trying to talk to you," I stated.

"Don't," he abruptly replied, refusing to say any more.

"What do you mean," I asked. "Why can't I talk to you if I want?"

He sighed, as if the answer was obvious. "Because if you do, you'll be forced into something you don't want to be a part of."

"What if I do," I replied.

He looked at me sternly, rage filling those blue eyes of his. "If you do, then I pity you."

Something convinced me to keep pursuing the topic. "Why?"

"Because then, you'd have a death wish."

With that he left, leaving me only with curiosity and unanswered questions.

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School ended like any other day would've. The only thing slightly worth sharing was that I ran into the same kid later. He simply glared at me and walked away. What's with him, anyway? He seems like a nice kid, if he'd give me the chance to get to know him, or talk to him at the very least. His final words echoed in my mind. "you'd have a death wish." What did he mean by this? Surely nothing could be that bad.

Can it?