I opened my eyes to find myself in my room. I had no idea what had happened or how I had got here. The only thing I did remember was that my parents were dead. Grief racked my body and I curled up in my bed, wrapping the covers around me.
I started sobbing quietly at first but then found myself losing control and it wasn't soon until I went into full blown sobbing and snotting. The thought of being on my own for god knows how long is soooo appealing... not.
My head snapped up when I felt a hand on my leg. There was a boy sat on the end of my bed looking rather concerned. A boy I had never met before in my life. In my house.
I took a moment to take him in. He looked around 5 foot 7, had dark, black hair, hazel eyes, with eyeliner rimming them perfectly, was definitely no older than 22 and looked, in a way, odd. Flawless even. There wasn't a spot, blemish or freckle on this boy.
Now I know what you're thinking. How is it that she can stay so calm when there is a strange boy, whom she has never met, sat at the end of her bed with his hand resting on her leg? Well I didn't. That moment I took to look at him was about a millisecond. After that I screamed. Loud.
The boy panicked and lifted his hand off, backing away with his hands held up in surrender.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Don't scream. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm sorry."he repeated when he hit my wall.
I ran out of breath and stopped to draw in another. It was then that three other lads came into my room looking worried. I screamed again. The boy, okay, man, slammed his hands over his ears and looked frantically to the others.
"Patrick! Make her stop!!" he yelled as loud as he could.
The boy, with long, blonde/brown hair, glasses and a hat, stepped to my bed. Sitting next to me he looked me directly in the eye, put his hands on my shoulders and smiled.
"Hey there. I don't suppose you could stop screaming for me could you? There's no need to be alarmed. Let me explain."
I could stop screaming. Long enough to draw in another breath. I backed away from him as quickly as possible, despite his best attempts to grab me, and apparently forgot about the end of my bed. I carried on screaming for the short drop to the floor. Except I didn't hit the floor. I found myself rising slowly as if being carried.
When I opened my eyes I found I was correct. The boy who was sat on my bed when I woke up was looking down at me and walking out of the room. I looked around his side to see the others following us. I realised I had stopped screaming and opened my mouth to continue doing so but then stopped. I didn't feel scared. Deep down I knew there was no need to be. The only thing I felt now was hungry.
I coughed slightly and the boy looked down at me again.
"Yes?" he said raising an eyebrow.
"Can we go to the kitchen? I'm hungry." I said quietly, not trusting my voice to hold.
"Certainly." he smiled, obviously relieved I wasn't going to scream again.
"Erm. In fact?" I started.
"Yes?"
"Can I walk on my own?" I felt stupid being carried.
"Not without support." he stated.
"And where would that be?" I asked.
He put me down and held out his arm.
"Right here." he said and grabbed me as I tried to step forward on my own but ended up tumbling.
I grabbed onto his arm gratefully and felt my other arm being held up. I turned to see who it was only to be greeted by a guy with longish, straight, brown hair, glasses and lots and lots of tattoos. I smiled and we made our way to kitchen where I was plonked down onto a chair while "Patrick" whisked off to the fridge to make me something.
