Chapter One.

So, I got my thoughts together, and started a chapter. It's really rough-ish right now. My grammar is probably atrocious. @@ Ohwell.

Chapter One

“The sonuvabitch shot AT me!”

The entire compound could hear her screaming. We could also hear the sound of glass breaking. Mr. Lemieux wouldn’t be very happy about that. I kept my head down, trying my best to ignore the cacophony of noise coming from the next room over.

“Just keep typing, Klip.” I told myself, “Just keep typing.” The pile of files I needed to transcribe kept getting taller, until they began to teeter on precariously in my inbox. Such is the life of a glorified secretary. While I put the finishing touches on the current file I was digitalizing, the fight exploded into my part of the office.

“Fayth, sweetheart, if I had known you were in any danger…” Mr. Lemieux, always the sweet talker.

“Bullshit! You sent me with a gun, which I almost got SHOT WITH.” Ms. Condry, in stellar form today, interrupted him before his velvet words had a chance to work. All I had to do was keep typing, eye contact would be a fatal mistake. Then it happened, my eyes strayed from the screen and caught Fayth’s. “Why couldn’t you’ve sent her?!”

Shit. I wasn’t invisible anymore.

Aleksander.

A little blurb today.

I was never the favorite.

That was my little brother. He was special. The spotlight was his.

No matter what I could do, or who I became, I was never my little brother; Aedryan.

It started from the moment he was born, pink and fuzzy headed. He made not a sound, just whisked gently into consciousness, and therefore ruining my existence as a person. I may’ve been just a whelp myself, but I remember.

There was rain. Thunder resounded in the distance. Panic fluttered on the wind, between the cabins and the shops, until they all came to rest outside of my window. They weren’t looking at me, oh no, they were looking at him.

It wasn’t until years later that I really understood why. He bore the marking. It nearly swallowed his entire left foot, at first. A black paw print, much like the one great grandfather had. They cooed and awed, until I broke the window. Then they just shouted at me, and stitched my hands up. I still can trace the scar across the back of my hand.