This Crazy Life (On Hold)

Chapter One

Chapter 1

I don't remember much of my childhood. 

I don't remember much of anything at all. 

I'm on my 18th year and i can't remember most of the last 17. 

My therapist says i repress my memories. I figure, if my subconscious can do that, I don't want to remember. 

My parents had abandoned my siblings and I long before I was born. Not in the physical sense, but they may as well have. 

My sister is messed up pretty bad. We only speak when she doesn't hate me, which I never seem to be aware of before the bite. My 2 brothers...Well, there are no words to convey, they are entirely in a different league. Only one stays in contact with me. The other...He only calls on Christmas. 

I am considered the 'normal' one in my family. Although from an outside point of view, I am far from it.

So, I'm in my senior year. I am alone, with no family to call my own. 

My therapist is my only outlet. I have no friends, family or life. 

I work at the local Pet Shelter. Louise, the owner, is nice enough, but we keep to ourselves.  

The work there takes up some time. Although I wish I had more to do. But, alas, I do not.

~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~

Walking home in the dark, I'm less than observant. I watch my feet as I walk, the dirty converse probably in need of a replacement. My Ipod is on full blast, drowning out any and all thoughts in my head. Having had a long day at the rescue I'm pretty content. Exhausted even. The whole building had to be cleaned. Every kennel, table, floor, etc. I've had exactly zero chance to myself. Which translates to: No time to think. My thoughts are always dark and gloomy. I do my best to avoid using my thinker. Harder than some people make it seem.  

"You know you should probably watch where you're going." Rayne states curtly through the bass of Pitbull. 

"Pssh, Please no one ever comes down these roads." I bite back. 

Okay, I should probably explain. This is one of the issues I refuse to speak to my therapist about. For the sole reason that I really don't want to be locked up. 

But Rayne really isn't a problem. She's actually quite helpful. Sometimes. She is my common sense. Without her I would quite literally be lost. 

In a way she is my subconscious, but according to articles and an abundance of medical studies, she is my split personality. 

"No, I am your other half." Rayne says with venom that a rattler would be envious of. 

"Yes, but according to Other people, you are one of my multiple personalities."  

"So! Other people are wrong!" 

"Jeez, okay, stop being so touchy." At this Rayne ignores me until I trip and land flat on my face. 

"Told you to watch it." Then she proceeds to ignore me. 

I am startled nearly out of my skin when someone grabs hold of my hand. 

I quickly jerk free and take note of my surroundings. I'm nearly home. Just barely a block away. I can see the bridge I have to cross to get to my street. And my ear phones fell out. 

"Sorry, saw that face plant, come to see if you're alright." Drawls a deep southern voice. 

I cradle my hand to my chest and stare at the long jean covered legs. Counting the threads of the left knee. My heart beats nearly out of my chest as I register the complete maleness of this person.