18 Years Not Knowing

Hey, if you can think of a better title, please tell me! (:

Chapter 1:

"Vyolet!" my sister called from the kitchen.

I poked my head out of my bedroom door. "Yeah?"

"I'm going out. See you...whenever." The little blonde fifteen year old, Cyan, turned and left. Yeah, my parents liked color names. Well, my mom did. I never knew my dad. Either way, I didn't have the same father as Cyan.

Wait, let my back up and introduce myself. I'm Vyolet Lyrik Payne. I'm seventeen, although I turn eighteen the next day, and stand about five feet eight inches. I guess I'm skinny, seeing as I don't eat cow meat and that's all my step-dad makes. So I either eat a salad or don't eat at all.

My hair is a natural blonde color with purple streaks added in. Ha, get it? Vyolet streaks. Vyolet. Yeah, I did that on purpose.

Yeah, anyways. The girl who just left was my fifteen year old half-sister. She had blonde hair as well, but unlike me, she was what you'd expect from a blonde. She was a cheerleader, popular, and extremely ditzy.

Though, just like my mom, she couldn't wait for me to leave. We didn't exactly get along well. We were polar opposites. Pop music for her, hardcore rock for me. Pink for her, purple and black for me. Yeah, I was one of those girls.

"Music!" my step-dad, Craig, yelled from the living room. Oh, great. He only called me that when he was drunk.

I cautiously peeked around the corner. "Yes, Craig?"

He was sitting on the cough watching a football game. He glanced over at me and patted the seat beside him. "Come. Sit."

"Uh...I'm kind of busy..." I thought desperately of some excuse for me not to hang out with a drunk Craig. I'd never had to deal with him alone.

His eyes narrowed. "Sit down NOW," he ordered dangerously.

My eyes widened and I quickly sat down. On the opposite end of the couch. He pointed sternly at the seat right next to him and I reluctantly slid to it.

"So," he began, strangely being nice to me. "How was your day?"

"Uhm...it was good?" I ended sounding like a question because I wasn't used to him actually seeming to care.

"That's great." He grinned and placed and hand on my knee. Okay, this was getting highly uncomfortable. I moved my knee away from his hand, only to have him grab onto it forcefully. I froze.

"Uh...what are you doing?" I asked, voice shaking with fear.

"Nothing," he replied, turning back to face the television as his hand rubbed up and down my thigh.

I felt a strange burning feeling in my mouth and arms.

I tried moving my leg away, but he suddenly shoved me onto the floor and straddled my legs.

"Craig-" I squeaked.

"Shut the hell up," he ordered, clamping a hand on my already hurting mouth. His other hand trailed up my shirt. I tried to scream, but all that was heard was a muffled noise. He grinned evilly. "No one can hear you if you scream." The hand up my shirt lifted my bra, and suddenly the fear was replaced by anger.

A feral growl erupted from my throat and suddenly my hand was around his throat and I was holding him up against the wall. "Don't. Fucking. Touch. Me."

The man's eyes were big as saucers. I let out what sounded like a mix between a sigh and a grunt and dropped him, then made my way tp my room. Just in case, I locked the door. I was confused by what just happened, but most of all, I was tired. A glance at the clock showed me it was 11:59 PM.

I dropped onto my bed. Almost as soon as my head hit the pillow, my body exploded into the worst pain imaginable. My mouth hurt, my arms hurt, my legs hurt. Heck, even my hair hurt. I clamped my teeth together to keep from screaming.

What was happening to me?

After what seemed like hours of agonizing pain, but was probably just a few minutes, it just left. I felt fine. Breathing heavily, I stood up, very unsteadily, and walked over to my mirror. And gasped.

The person in the mirror was so not me. My previously blonde and purple hair was now pitch black with neon green streaks. My once blue eyes were now silver with tiny red flecks. But the most drastic changes were to my body.

Where I had been skinny, almost anorexic-like, I was not very fit. I even had noticeable muscles and the beginnings of a six pack. And where the skin stretched across it has once been tan, it was now as white and fair as newly fallen snow.

"What the...?" I was at a loss for words. "I must be dreaming," I told myself, then stopped talking, mesmerized by what I saw in my mouth. The sight made my fear and confusion levels raise drastically. Why? you might ask.

Because now joined in with my straight white teeth, replacing my eyeteeth, were two gleaming fangs.

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How is it?

For some reason, when I thought those words, it came out in a British accent. Strange. Well, British accents are pretty cool. Sometimes I wish I was British...

Anyways! How do you like it? (That was British too!!) Comment, Vote, and Fan my lovelies. (:

~McKenzie