Chapter One

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"Where in the world's the forgotten?
They're lost inside your memory
You're dragging on, your heart's been broken
As we all go down in history"
Green Day, ¡Tré!
"The Forgotten"

I suppose I should start from the beginning, explain why I'm writing this, and if you're reading it, then it means something's happened to me, I don't know what though, it's not like I can look into the future. Though that would be pretty cool.

Anyway this is my story, my legacy you could say. If I go down, it won't be without a fight. This is confidential information, you cannot tell anyone. If you do, that was probably a very big mistake, but if you do tell anyone make it count. Don't tell it too a dud or something.

As I write this I am currently off in the middle of nowhere, thinking I'm safe for a few short hours, which, by the way, I am not. Sorry, I have a tendency to get off track.

Anyway, a little bit about myself, I'm an odd kid and I always have been, I've forged my own path, and have never really had a normal life, though I suppose I never would have been able to, or could have really. Normality, is overrated anyways(though it is kind of nice at times).

There's one thing that's important about this, this is my story, I can't go down without giving a proper goodbye.

Oh, and one more thing, never forget the forgotten.

~Yours truly,
Peter Smith

Peter looked down at the page in front of him, pen in hand, staring down at the short letter he had written. He had spent hours trying to find the correct words for it and finally had. Running a hand through his jet black hair he scanned the page one last time then folded it and slipped it into a envelope. It was the last time he looked at that letter, but not the last time someone looked at it, for it was only the beginning of the end.

Years earlier
The two young parents looked down at their newly born son. They had been overjoyed, the young boy had the brightest blue eyes, and dark hair. But there was something very concerning about the baby boy, he had wings, small black wings, they were dark as night but beautiful. The parents exchanged nervous glances.

"Honey, he- he has wings!" Said, Jocelyn, the boy's mother.

"I- I know." Said Benedict, his father. The two were equally stunned at the strange occurrence.

"We'll love him anyway. No matter what." Jocelyn said, very clearly establishing her position on the matter at hand.

"Of course. But I don't think it's safe to stay here." Jocelyn looked up surprised at what her husband had just finished saying, silent tears started to run down her cheeks. She hated the idea of leaving her home, but knew it was for the sake of her son's safety.

"I know." She said quietly. "When will we go, Ben?" He sighed, knowing they had to leave as soon as they could.

"As soon as we're packed and ready."

"Of course, I should have known." Jocelyn stood quickly and went to ready her things, Benedict did the same, quickly packing, getting all the things they needed and nothing more. Ben picked up the side of their bed's mattress and took out about a thousand dollars, it would help them along the road, though not for long. One thousand dollars isn't much in the long run of things.

In the many hours of driving to get away the three persons sat in silence. Though, Peter, he was a quiet baby, he didn't make a sound.

"He doesn't have a name. What shall we call him?" Jocelyn asked Ben, finally breaking the silence which was becoming almost unbearable.

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