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These Violent Delights

New York

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a part of These Violent Delights, by Horseygirl.

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Horseygirl holds sovereignty over New York, giving them the ability to make limited changes.

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New York

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New York is a part of These Violent Delights.

2 Characters Here

Annabel Nightingale [16] "Every person is deserving of love."
Drew Sanders [16] "Falling feels a lot like flying when it's intentional."

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Character Portrait: Annabel Nightingale Character Portrait: Drew Sanders
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Annie stood on her toes, her body perfectly in line. She couldn't spin, due to the oxygen tank, but was able to preform first through fifth position. Feeling confident, she extended her leg above her head quickly but before she could make another movement, her breathing became a little harder and she coughed.

She stood flat on her feet, covering her mouth as she coughed violently. When she pulled back, her palm was spattered with blood. Oh, no... not again...
Bell tried to reach for her phone, but a violent fit of coughing sent her falling to her knees. She wheezed, struggling to breathe between coughs that racked her entire body. Her vision blurred with tears- it felt like her lungs were collapsing. she couldn't get in any air, and was beginning to panic.

Unable to keep herself up, she fell to the ground. Her coughs became weaker, and each ragged breath became smaller. Bell fought hard, trying so hard to catch her breath. Her entire body trembled. Blood pooled beside her mouth on the floor, as it became harder and harder to keep he eyes open. She felt like she was drowning, and was too weak to move. Finally, she gave up. Her coughing and wheezing stopped. She closed her eyes, and grew still.





Annie's one golden amber eye and one blue eye slowly fluttered open. Her body felt heavy, like she was trying to move through syrup. She blinked, and sat up. Everything was so clear. She was always a little farsighted in her blue eye, but now her vision was perfect. Better than perfect. She could focus in on everything all at once. And all of the colours in her studio were so much brighter than she remembered.

Her brow furrowed, and she looked down at the dried puddle of blood beside her. She tried to remember what happened. It was all so fuzzy... she remembered. She practically drowned on her own blood. It was horrible, and painful. She touched the air tube that blew a steady stream of oxygen into her nose. It was off.
She took in a deep breath... and for the first time in so long, she felt no pain. She could breathe! In wonderment, she pulled off the tubes and stood up. Bell was able to move to fluidly- even more graceful than she remembered before she was diagnosed. It was so easy.

A bubble of laughter escaped her as she stood on her toes, and danced. She was able to dance again! She didn't once have to catch her breath, or feel a deep pain in the back of her throat. In fact, she was so much more flexible and could move so much faster than she could remember. It was almost... unnatural how she could move with so much ease and speed. She was so agile!

Looking over, she caught sight of herself in the mirrors. She looked... alive. Being sick, she was vey pale and she had dark rings around her eyes. But now, her cheeks were pink, her lips were a soft shade of red, her skin looked healthy and glowing, and her eyes... what? For a moment, she could've sworn her eyes were slitted! Like a cat's! She blinked, and when she looked back her eyes were normal again.

Unnerved, she backed up and heard her phone vibrate. There were so many thoughts running through her head... was any of this real? Was this all a dream? Was she dead? Because she was pretty sure she felt herself die...
Trembling slightly, she picked up her phone.
From: Unknown Number
Meet me at room 42-B, at the Hayat Hotel. The door is unlocked. Everything will be explained.


Annie's brow furrowed. She didn't know who it was or what was going on, but she knew that she had to go. She changed into a white sweater, jeans, and boots, then pulled on her coat and knitted blue hat. She zipped up her coat as she left her house, and got into her car. She lived just outside of New York, in a heavily wooded area. It was very peaceful and quiet- she had no neighbors, or really anyone nearby. When she used to be Prima at her dance company, she would usually stay at another apartment she had in the upper east side of New York.

She knew where she was going, given that she had passed by the hotel many times. She had never actually been in it, but she knew just by looking at it that it was really nice. But when she got there... it was pretty much empty. There were a few people there, but they all just sort of glance at her and quickly looked away. She politely asked the receptionist what floor room 42-B was on, before heading off to the second floor. Annie hesitated at the door for a moment, before unsurely walking in.

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Character Portrait: Annabel Nightingale Character Portrait: Drew Sanders
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The rain had soaked through his hoodie not long after leaving the house. His hair was sodden, and fell limply against his face, even with his hood up. The road was silent, seeing as it was two in the morning. His figure was almost impossible to spot as he made his way along the road. His hands were shaking as they were balled up in his pockets, but they had nothing to do with the cold. He couldn't do this any more. It had to end tonight. It had to.

He hadn't bothered with an explanation. He'd just left his door unlocked and a note on his coffee table, reading "I'm Sorry." Nobody would miss him enough to look for an explanation. To wonder why he had done it. He just couldn't keep living like this. He had come home from work to sit on the couch and stare blankly at the TV, wishing for an idea for his first play to hit him.

He'd started writing at around midnight, but by one he was yelling at the walls and cursing himself and all of his flaws. He'd wanted someone to just take his hands to stop him from throwing things, to pull him close, then pull him to the couch and ask him to talk. But there was nobody. He'd had a drink or two, before making the decision.

He reached the centre of the bridge and stared down into the water. It seemed like an awfully long way down, but that was what he wanted. The impact would make it a lot harder for him to survive. He took a deep breath and climbed onto the railing. As he stared down, he realised that he should feel something. Fear. Regret. Something to make him reconsider. But instead he wanted to jump. He took a deep breath, and the words escaped his lips before he could stop them. "I'M NOT SCARED!"

He took a deep breath and stepped forward. His foot met only thin air, and he fell. He blacked out as soon as he hit the water.





He rolled over, sighing a little with the warmth. It then hit him that he shouldn't be feeling warmth. He shouldn't be realising anything. He opened one eye wearily, then the other with surprise. He was at home. In bed.

Yet the feeling of falling was as fresh and as vivid as if it had happened only moments ago. He listened for movement in his apartment. Maybe someone had found him and had brought him home. But as he sat up, his body was pain free. The impact of the water should have done some damage, if not killed him. And yet he was sitting here, alive. It didn't feel real. Something couldn't be real.

In disbelief, he stood up and looked in the mirror. His blonde hair was unruly, like it had been soaked and then dried by itself. But as he pulled off his shirt, he saw flawless skin. No scars. No bruising. No marks whatsoever. He stared at his wrists, almost a little relieved when he saw the two long, jagged scars on either wrist. His tattoo was still there as well, a little comfort.

But that wasn't enough to stop him from sliding to the floor, feeling overwhelmed. He was sure that he had gone to the bridge and jumped. The memories of his wet hair in his face and the sensation of falling felt incredibly real. But so did this. His mind was playing tricks on him. He was going insane. The two scenarios couldn't exist together. He either didn't jump or this wasn't real.

He picked up the bottle of pills that sat on this bedside table. He stared at them, contemplating swallowing the bottle. But none of his previous attempts had worked. And the fact that he had attempted showed that they didn't even do what they were supposed to. Knowing his luck, they wouldn't work either. So instead he swallowed two, hoping that it would clear things up.

His phone buzzed gently, and he stared at it. Nobody ever texted him. Ever. He picked it up and read the message on it.

From: Unknown Number
Meet me at room 42-B, at the Hayat Hotel. The door is unlocked. Everything will be explained.


Everything will be explained... That was enough to make him stand. He pulled on a t-shirt and pair of black jeans, grabbing his denim jacket. He didn't feel like eating, so he just headed straight for the hotel.

It was fancy, posher than Drew could ever afford. He received a few glares as he headed in. The receptionist looked completely suspicious as he asked where the room was. He found the room and went in. Nobody was there, so he sat on the couch to wait.

He closed his eyes and could still feel the sensation of falling. Of seeing the water rushing up to meet him. Of losing himself as he hit the water. He heard someone outside the door and looked up.

The first emotion that hit him when he looked up and saw the petite blonde standing there was disappointment. She looked just as lost as he felt.

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Character Portrait: Annabel Nightingale Character Portrait: Drew Sanders
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Annabel closed the door quietly behind her, and when she looked forward she caught sight one someone sitting on the couch. He was very attractive, with bright blue eyes and unruly blonde hair. She could tell that he wasn't the one who texted her, just by the way he looked at her. Like he had been hoping for somebody else. She smiled gently at him, and shyly took a step forward. "I'm Annabel. But you can call me Annie or Bell." She murmured to him gently, tucking a strand of her short hair behind her ear. She couldn't keep her hair long, being in and out of chemo. "May I ask your name?" She asked shyly, glancing at the ground then back up to him, her posture low and submissive. She didn't even notice it anymore- she just automatically just stood in the most nonthreatening, submissive way now.

Abruptly, the phone rang. Bell jumped back in surprise, and unsurely looked towards the other male. He made no move to get it, so she unsurely picked it up. Before she could say a word, a firm voice interjected. "Annabel. Lovely to see that the both of you are here. I'm glad you came. Please put the phone on speaker." Her brow furrowing, she looked at the male on the couch. How did this person know that they were both there, and that she picked up the phone? She placed the phone down next to the base and put the phone on speakerphone.

"I'm sure the two of you are very confused. But to answer the burning question- yes, you died. No, this isn't a dream. And yes, you are alive again. You're healed. I know it sounds crazy, but think about it. You remember dying, but obviously you aren't dead anymore. And you are perfectly healthy." Annabel paused, and took in a deep breath. The person on the phone was right- for the first time in so long, she could breathe. And she remembered very vividly choking on her own blood and not being able to breathe.

"You two are... special. Gifted. There are others like you. But you must not try to find them- when we wish to speak to you, we will find you. You must never publically show your gift, or try to contact anyone from your old life right now. Don't speak a word of this to anyone. Do you two understand?" Annie looked over at the male again. "Hello? you two dead again?" The voice spoke again. "Y-yes. I understand." She answered quietly.

"Good. Remember that. Now, you two could be very dangerous right now. You must not show your gift to the world until you have full control of it. Now, i'm sure you are dying to know what your gift is. The both of you: close your eyes and think bout the one thing in the world that makes you more angry than anything else. What you are afraid of the most. Let it take over. Let yourself go. And... try not to destroy anything." With that, the person hung up on them.

Annie stared at the phone, then at the person on the couch. She wavered back and forth, wanting to know what the person on the line was talking about but a part of her was afraid. Deep down, she knew everything the person said was true. She had died. She came back. And she was different. Biting down on her lip, her mismatched eyes met the male on the couch's. "You first."

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"I'm Annabel. But you can call me Annie or Bell. May I ask your name?" She asked. He looked up at her, then back at the ground. "Andrew. But please call me Drew. Nobody's called me Andrew since..." His fists clenched at the memory of his mother, calling goodbye. Before he could say anything else, the phone started ringing. He watched her as she answered it, before setting it back on the stand and putting it on speaker.

"I'm sure the two of you are very confused. But to answer the burning question- yes, you died. No, this isn't a dream. And yes, you are alive again. You're healed. I know it sounds crazy, but think about it. You remember dying, but obviously you aren't dead anymore. And you are perfectly healthy." This was impossible. He hadn't spoken to anybody since he'd finished work yesterday. Nobody knew that he had jumped. Nobody knew that he had died. This had to be all in his head. There was no other explanation.

"You two are... special. Gifted. There are others like you. But you must not try to find them- when we wish to speak to you, we will find you. You must never publically show your gift, or try to contact anyone from your old life right now. Don't speak a word of this to anyone. Do you two understand?" He smirked a little bitterly. Him? Special? Hardly.

"Good. Remember that. Now, you two could be very dangerous right now. You must not show your gift to the world until you have full control of it. Now, i'm sure you are dying to know what your gift is. The both of you: close your eyes and think bout the one thing in the world that makes you more angry than anything else. What you are afraid of the most. Let it take over. Let yourself go. And... try not to destroy anything." He frowned as they disconnected. What angered him? Not much succeeded in angering him any more. Much like nothing much made him laugh.

As she looked up at him and met his eyes, he noticed that her eyes were two different colours. He couldn't help but think how pretty they were. "You first." She said quietly. He nodded, closing his eyes.

He thought, back to the days when his medication actually worked. Back to the days when he felt. And he found that something did make him angry. He remembered the one time his father had been angry. Coming home from court, when the drunk driver that had killed his mother received an innocent verdict. Leaving court, still feeling unwell from his attempt. Innocent. His father's muggers, who had beat him to death, had been declared innocent of murder, instead getting away with manslaughter. The justice system had failed his family. It had failed him.

He felt a rush of energy through his body and opened his eyes. Flames flickered along his arms. He frowned, willing them to go out before he allowed himself to panic. The flames disappeared. He focused on one hand, and watched as it burst into flames. Again, he found it easy to extinguish them. They felt oddly easy to control.

How ironic. He had tried drowning himself, and had not only failed, but had also gained the ability of fire manipulation. This couldn't be real.

"Now you." He said to Bell, watching her cautiously.

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Bell curiously watched Drew close his eyes, and tense up a bit. She felt for him- something terrible must have happened to him, too. It was unnerving- the person on the line seemed to know everything about them. Although, everyone has something that had hurt them or rubbed them the wrong way.

She looked up at him, to see flames flicker along his arms. Her eyes widened slightly, surprised. They disappeared, then he held out his had, which burst into flames. She watched in wonderment, flashing him a dimpled smile. She had to be crazy. this was impossible, wasn't it? But then, how was she magically healed? How could she breathe? How could he make himself burst into flames, and yet receive no burns?

"Now you." Drew told her, and she bit her lip. What do I have to lose? She thought to herself, before taking in a deep breath and closing her eyes. Seth was the first person to come to her mind when she thought of fear. He would beat her, just for the smallest of accidents. She was so afraid of doing anything wrong- afraid of making him mad.
She trembled slightly, wrapping her arms around herself. He would leave her, bruised and bleeding on the floor, and go off to do whatever he wanted. Like she didn't even exist.

He would hurt her, and hurt her, and all she ever did was love him. She loved him so much, but was so afraid of him at the same time. She remembered the all-consuming fear she felt when she broke a glass or spilled something, then looked up to see him coming at her. Bracing herself for the slap or punch.

She jerked back quickly, her back hitting the wall. She opened her eyes, and blinked. She had moved half way across the room, way faster than she should've been able to. She looked at Drew, and was able to focus in on the slightest of details. Each strand of his hair was a slightly different shade of blonde, and from across the room she could make out all the different colours in his bright blue eyes. But that wasn't the most unsettling part. She could hear his heartbeat, and the people three rooms away talking to each other. If she focused, she could hear exactly what they were saying.

She wrapped her arms tighter around herself, and yelped when she felt something sharp give her arm a little cut. She pulled back, to see her nails were only about half an inch longer but they were incredibly sharp and smooth. Somewhat afraid of what she's see, she looked in the mirror to see what she had gotten a glimpse of before. Her mismatched eyes were slitted. She felt so much pent-up energy, like she could run for miles and remain completely unfazed. She felt powerful, and like she finally had control over her body.

Feeling overwhelmed, she quickly let go and felt her nails retract, her eyes go back to normal, and her senses dull somewhat. She could still see and hear astoundingly well, but it was toned down significantly. Her eyes flicked to the ground, then back at Drew. For some reason, she felt a little embarrassed.

"So, Drew, you have the amazing gift to manipulate fire without the slightest of burns, and i'm a cat. Brilliant." She laughed lightly despite herself, and flashed him her dimpled grin once more.

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He watched her as she did exactly as he had done. After a few moments, she jumped back- leaping across the room so her back hit the wall. He jerked back too with the fright. She looked at him, meeting his eyes. It suddenly hit him that her eyes were slitted, like a cat's. As she wrapped her arms around herself, she yelped and pulled back. Her nails appeared sharp. He watched her as her eyes returned to normal, flicking to the ground and then back at him.

"So, Drew, you have the amazing gift to manipulate fire without the slightest of burns, and I'm a cat. Brilliant." She laughed a little, but Drew just felt overwhelmed. This wasn't real. It couldn't be. It was impossible.

"No. No, no, no, this can't be real. It's all in my head. I did jump last night, this is all just a dying delusion." He muttered to himself, forcing himself to his feet and running his fingers through his hair. He screwed his eyes shut, remembering the feeling of falling. The lurch in his stomach as he fell. His wet hair against his face moments before he stepped off. The wind blowing against his frame, pushing him to jump.

"WAKE UP!" He yelled at himself. He needed to let go or wake up. This wasn't real. It couldn't be. He couldn't really manipulate fire. He had never really met this pretty, petite blonde with mismatched eyes who was like a cat. He was dying. He was probably lying on a bank or in a hospital bed, struggling for breath and his body attempting to survive what he had put it through.

"This isn't real. This isn't real." He muttered to himself, clenching his fists. He clenched them so that his nails dug into the skin of his palm. The pain did nothing to clear it. He looked up at Bell, who was probably terrified of him by now. "You can't be real." He whispered, almost more to himself than to her. This wasn't real. He had probably just lost it, for once and for all. The attempt had left him with brain damage and now he was trapped in this world until he died or woke up. He stared at his hands, which had burst into flame again. "This can't be."

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"No. No, no, no, this can't be real. It's all in my head. I did jump last night, this is all just a dying delusion." Drew quickly stood up, running his hands through his hair. Bell could tell he was overwhelmed. She took a little step closer and bit her lip, unsure of what to do.

"WAKE UP!" She moved a little closer, worried about him. He wasn't taking all of this well and it was only a matter of time before he ended up bursting into flames or accidently setting the room on fire. "This isn't real. This isn't real. You can't be real. This can't be."

Bell stepped in front of him, glancing down at his hands that were now in flames. Wordlessly, she slowly reached her p to his chest, looking up to see if he disapproved or would push her away but he allowed it. His heart was beating hard and fast, and she could feel it just below her fingertips. She gave him a soothing smile. "If you were dead, than how could your heart be beating so fast? How could you feel my hand on your chest?" Her voice was smooth, soft, and gentle. "I'm here. I'm right here and if your hands weren't on fire then I'd let you feel my heartbeat too." Her smile broadened just slightly.

"I'm not going anywhere, Drew. I know it's all crazy and i'm confused too, but I guess it's a good thing that there's two of us. we can sort through it together." She tilted her head slightly, her smile not wavering for a second. Her eyes were gentle and inviting.
"And anyways, if this really was your last dream, than surely you could think up someone a bit better than me." She laughed lightly and glanced at her hand that was still resting on his chest. It has a few rather painful looking scars, from when Seth had once broken her hand.

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She put her hand on his chest. He looked down at her. Suddenly he wanted her to be real so badly. Nobody had voluntarily tried to calm him down before. Most of the time, they ran away. "If you were dead, than how could your heart be beating so fast? How could you feel my hand on your chest?" Her smile made him feel a little better. But something kept reminding him that this wasn't real. "I'm here. I'm right here and if your hands weren't on fire then I'd let you feel my heartbeat too." He just stared at her smile. At her mismatched eyes. He'd never met anyone like her before.

"I'm not going anywhere, Drew. I know it's all crazy and i'm confused too, but I guess it's a good thing that there's two of us. We can sort through it together. And anyways, if this really was your last dream, than surely you could think up someone a bit better than me." She laughed a little and looked at her hand. He raised one of his, now flame free, and put it over her hand. It was scarred, and he suddenly had a million questions on his tongue.

"You're one of the reasons this has to be a dream. I've never met anyone really like you before. Most people tend to be frightened of me when I freak out." For the first time in what felt like forever, one corner of his lips lifted up without him forcing it to. It wasn't even a half smile, but it was getting there. "I think I might stick with this dream, though." The words left his lips without him meaning to let them.





"So what's your story, then? How you lived, how you died?" He asked, wrapping both hands around the paper cup of coffee. It was cold, but the coffee warmed him from the inside out. He was feeling a bit better now, after his meds had had time to kick in fully. But in the back of his mind, he still felt like this world would shatter at any second, and that he was just killing time until that happened. He figured that there were worse ways to kill time.

The marks on her hand made him wonder. His sleeves covered his scars, something he was a little glad of. Even though he got the impression that he would end up telling Bell his story anyway, he lived in the hope that he wouldn't. And so he was glad that she couldn't see his scars, just in case she asked. He took a mouthful of his coffee as he watched her.

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"So what's your story, then? How you lived, how you died?" Drew asked, and Bell glanced down at her cup of coffee for a minute. Her pursed her lips, choosing her words carefully. How to word her sad story without making him thinking she was too broken? "Well, I was Prima Ballerina at one of the most prestigious dance companies internationally. Best known for playing Satine in Moulin Rouge and Clara in The Nutcracker." She smiled fondly, looking back up at him. "Those were the best years of my life. It was amazing." Her dimpled smile widened for a moment, then fell slightly.

"But then I got sick. Lung cancer. And you can't exactly dance with lung cancer, although I really I tried to work through it, but eventually it became to hard. I could barely walk, let alone dance. I went into chemo, and my long blonde curls all fell out." She looked down at her coffee sadly again, tucking a short strand of her hair behind her ear again. "Thus the little boy haircut." She gave him a strained smile.

"I... had a boyfriend before I got sick. While I was a dancer, everything was great. We were engaged, and he really seemed to love me... but things started going downhill when I got sick. He... wasn't particularly kind." Her voice broke off, and she couldn't quite meet his eyes. "He left me about a few months ago. I was stating to get better, too. I've been in remission, my hair grew back... but I guess the cancer was still there, just waiting to strike. I had a really bad attack, and..." She shuddered, remembering coughing and choking on her blood. "It was horrible. I died."

Her mismatched eyes met his soft blue ones, and she offered him a half smile. "Sorry it's not very happy. But at least I'm alive now, right? Things seem to be looking up." Bell flashed him her dimpled smile, and took a sip of her coffee. "May I ask what your story is? You don't have to tell me everything, or really anything at all." She gently spoke to him, resting her elbows on the table.

She was quite fascinated with him. He was so different than all of the self-centered, egotistical men that she met while she was a dancer. He seemed so broken, and down to earth. It was easy to get lost in his sky blue eyes, and she found herself wondering what had made him the way he was. It seemed like he almost didn't want to give himself the opportunity to be happy. Like he didn't think he was worth it.

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He listened to her story, sipping on his coffee. He wasn't entirely surprised to hear that she was a dancer- she had the perfect petite figure, and dancers tended to be pretty. His hands tightened around his cup when she mentioned her ex. She didn't have to say anything more- the scars on her hands told her enough. He detested people like that. People that said that they loved them, but then hurt them.

"May I ask what your story is? You don't have to tell me everything, or really anything at all." He sighed, taking a mouthful of coffee.

"My story isn't exactly happy either. My mother was killed in a car crash when I was five. The bastard that killed her got away with only a fine. Left my father distraught. But he looked after me. He made sure that I was healthy and... Well, as happy as I could be. I was diagnosed with clinical depression when I was fifteen. I've been on anti-depressant medication ever since, but well... It hasn't always worked.

He slid up one sleeve so she could see the two long, jagged scars that ran down his wrist. When he spoke again, he seemed to have lost most of the volume that his voice had held. "I lost my best friend when I was seventeen. I tried to kill myself, but my father found me and took me to hospital. They patched me up, but I spent a month in the psychiatry ward. I went to counselling, but it did nothing for me. They changed around my meds, and it looked like that was working for a little while. Then my father was killed in a mugging when I was nineteen, a year into my stage production degree. I tried again, but my roommate found me. They changed my meds again. I got the words "To die would be an awfully big adventure" and a picture of a map and compass tattooed on my arm in memory of him. He always read Peter Pan to me as a kid, and that always just stuck with me. I graduated with my degree and got a job at a coffee shop to cover my costs while I tried to write a play. Last night, I just... I'd had a really bad day in general. I got home and tried to write some more. But I ended up just getting really angry at myself and... I decided to try again. I jumped off a bridge at two AM, then just woke up. And I suppose you know the rest."

He'd never said that much to anyone. He slid his sleeve down, covering his scars. He stared into the depths of his coffee cup, wishing that his story was different. She had probably wanted to survive so badly when she had been sick, and here he was, willing to end it all.

"Annabel? Is that you?" An unfamiliar voice called. Drew looked up to see a man coming towards them. He glanced at Bell, and the expression on her face worried him. The man looked at her, surprised. "You're looking well, Annie. Better than you were the last time I saw you." He looked over at Drew, raising an eyebrow. "Who's this? He doesn't seem much like your type. Not... You certainly wouldn't see him around a dance theatre, would you?" He joked. Drew stared into his coffee and clenched his fists.

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Character Portrait: Annabel Nightingale Character Portrait: Drew Sanders
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Annabel looked down at Drew's arm when he pulled up his sleeve, and she felt her heart sink. She could already tell that his story was a very sad one indeed. She listened to his story, and felt her heart break for him. He deserved so much better. "Oh, Drew." Her voice came out in a hushed whisper, and broke at the end. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and hold him close, and make his pain go away. She touched his hand, and her eyes looked impossibly sad.

Before she could say another word, an all too familiar voice pulled away her attention. "Annabel? Is that you?" Bell tensed immediately pulled away from Drew. She didn't need Seth going after him. Her eyes fell to the ground, she crossed her legs, and she crossed her arms across her chest. She didn't look angry, she looked... afraid. If you looked closely, you could see her hands tremble slightly.

"You're looking well, Annie. Better than you were the last time I saw you." She felt his eyes slide over her body, and she felt herself tremble a little more. "I'm in remission. I have been for a little while, now." She whispered, even though she knew that wasn't the only reason she was looking so much better. She was better.

She finally met his gaze. Despite everything he had done to her, even though she knew just how horrible he could be, she still softened slightly. Her arms uncrossed, and her hands fell into her lap as she looked up into his dark eyes. She could feel herself just slightly slide closer to that dark, cold place that was so familiar. It was like drowning.
"Who's this? He doesn't seem much like your type. Not... You certainly wouldn't see him around a dance theatre, would you?" He remarked, with that trademark smirk. Just as quickly as the softness had come, the hardness replaced it once more. "Perhaps that is a good thing. I would never find a man wonderful as him there. No good man has ever met me there." She snapped, knowing it would upset him given that they met at her dance theatre.

He took a quick step towards her, his hand half raised as though he would've struck her if they weren't in public. His dark eyes flicked around, checking to make sure he hadn't brought attention to them. Bell flinched, expecting him to hit her. Her bright, frightened eyes flicked up towards Drew. Seth stepped towards her, grabbed her arm tightly, and leaned in to whisper in her ear. She tensed and flinched again, knowing there would be angry-looking bruises where his hand was. "I'm the best thing that ever happened to you." He practically snarled at her. No, She thought. You were the worst thing that ever happened to me.

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"Perhaps that is a good thing. I would never find a man wonderful as him there. No good man has ever met me there." Drew's eyes flicked over to look at her. Was she just trying to rile him, or did she really think that he was wonderful? It was probably the former. He wasn't wonderful.

His fists clenched as the man raised a hand as if to strike her. Her eyes met Drew's, and he could see the fear in them. The man stepped towards her and grabbed her arm, leaning in to whisper something into her ear. All Drew could think about was the fear in her eyes. He felt anger flood through his body, and he surged to his feet, shoving the man away from Bell. "Don't you dare touch her." He snarled, stepping in front of Bell.

The man raised one eyebrow. "Who the hell do you think you are?" He asked. Drew didn't respond, staring straight at him. Drew didn't see him move, but he was thrown backwards, hitting the floor a few metres away and sliding to a stop. It took him a second or two to get his breath back, but it hit him then that he was just like them. He hadn't laid a finger on Drew, but now Drew was at least five metres away.

By that point, people had started running. Those who were hesitating made up their minds as soon as Drew stood up,his hands ablaze. The man looked over at Drew and raised his eyebrows. "What do you know? We have our own little superhero." Drew looked at Bell, silently asking what he should do.

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Annabel lept up, her heart stopping when she saw Drew go after Seth. She opened her mouth to speak, but stopped quickly when Drew was thrown back without Seth even touching him. She gaped, realizing that he must have abilities like the two of them. People were getting nervous, and leaving. But if that didn't give them away, Drew certainly did. his hands burst into flames, and Bell tensed.

"What do you know? We have our own little superhero." Seth spoke, pulling her attention away from Drew. She bit her lip, unsure of what to do, until Drew looked over at her. She quickly went over to him, turning her back to Seth. "Come on. let's go." She calmly murmured to Drew.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" Seth roared, grabbing Bell's arm tightly. She whirled around, claws instantly out, and scratched his cheek without really meaning to. He jerked back quickly, his hand immediately going to his now bleeding face. "What the hell?!" He snarled, and Bell stared at him with wide eyes. "I-I'm s-sorry I didn't m-mean to..." She stuttered, her claws now gone and her eyes back to their normal state.

She glanced over at Drew, flustered, before quickly turning away and leaving the cafe. She felt a little overwhelmed, and out of control. Everything had been happening too fast, and it was so hard to absorb it all. Not only that, but she felt dangerous. Like she couldn't trust herself- she had hurt someone. Even though he may have deserved it, Annie had always made a point to be the person that helped, never hurt. If she had hurt him, she could hurt anyone. How could she really trust herself around people again?

She found herself pacing, debating going back in to make sure Seth didn't hurt Drew. She heard someone coming towards her, and shyly stepping back into an alleyway.

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Bellmade her way over to him. "Come on. let's go." She murmured to him, but the man didn't seem too happy with that arrangement. "Where the hell do you think you're going?" He yelled. Drew sucked in a breath as Bell raked her claws across his face. She muttered something, before leaving the cafe.

"Come back here, you little bitch!" The man snarled, going to storm after her. Drew stepped in front of him, allowing the flames to flicker out and pushing him away. "Leave her alone." He snarled back. The man stared at him for a moment, before Drew felt something collide with his nose. He stumbled away, his hands going to his nose and staring when they came away bloody.

The man went to punch Drew in the gut, but Drew moved fast enough to defend himself. Instead, he felt the fist collide with his ribs and winced a little. It wasn't hard enough to break, but would still leave a nasty bruise. Drew managed to shove the man against a wall and grabbed a knife from a table as he did so, holding it in front of his face.

"If you ever touch her again, I will make you pay. She deserves so much better than you. They say being burnt alive is the most pain a person can ever experience. Touch her again and you'll find out." Drew snarled. He released the man and started walking away. The cops wouldn't be called- fights like these were far too common and usually burnt themselves out after a few minutes.

He pulled out his wallet, producing fifty bucks and leaving them on the cash register, scribbling "Sorry about that" on a note and leaving it with the money. As he was walking out the door, he heard the man yell at him. "You're a psychopath!" Drew simply shrugged, and walked away.

He found Bell down an alleyway, looking terrified and upset. He put his hands on her shoulders and squatted a little so he could look her in the eyes. "Are you okay?" He asked gently.

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Bell blinked, a little surprised when she saw Drew. He put his hands on her shoulders, and bent down a little so he could look her in the eyes. She softened a bit, and felt herself relax sightly. "Are you alright? He asked, and she bit her lip. "I-I hurt him. It doesn't matter if he deserved it, but I've never really meant to hurt anyone before... I've never been able to cause that much damage, without even meaning to."

Her rich blue and golden amber eyes looked up at him sadly. She felt so dangerous, like she couldn't trust herself. But as she stood there, looking at him, she felt herself relax. She felt safe. Her quick breathing slowed, and she threw her arms around him. She buried her face in his chest, and held him tightly. "Nobody has ever stood up for me like that." She whispered.

She stayed like that for a while, feeling warm and safe, before she reluctantly pulled away. "You're hurt..." She murmured, looking at his nose. "Come on. I'll fix you up." She murmured, taking his hand into hers and tugging him along with her.




Bell shut the door behind them when they got to her house, and smiled a little shyly. She lived just outside of New York, and had driven him to her home. It was quite large, yet still had a cute cottage feel to it. Before she could lead him in further, a voice from down the hall caught her attention.

A rather severe looking woman, with her hair pulled back into a tight bun and thin glasses seemed to come out of nowhere, and stepped in front of them. "Uhm-" Bell started, but was cut off. "Annabel. Drew. Nice to see you again. I spoke to you on the phone earlier. You two haven't been getting into trouble, have you?" She frowned at the two of them, but didn't give them a chance to answer.

"Anyways. You two probably aren't very strong right now, but nonetheless you will need training. Have you figured out what you can do yet?"

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Bell led him into her house. He'd only caught a glimpse of it, as he had been mostly focused on the ground. Well, the ground and her. People were nice to him, but it always took him by surprise when people showed him the same amount of kindness as she was. He was always just... there. On the occasions when he'd gotten himself beaten up when he was drunk, people had checked he was okay, and then left. Nobody had ever offered to patch him up. He'd never believed in destiny. But now he was starting to wonder. He was wondering if they were supposed to meet.

And then, of course, there was that voice in the back of his brain reminding him that this reality- this pleasant reality where somebody actually cared about him- was soon to fade with his dying breath.

He jumped a little as a voice spoke from down the hall. A woman appeared, one who reminded him of his old headmistress. But less friendly. "Annabel. Drew. Nice to see you again. I spoke to you on the phone earlier. You two haven't been getting into trouble, have you?"

Again? I have never seen you before in my life. He thought, but before these words could leave his lips, she spoke again. "Anyways. You two probably aren't very strong right now, but nonetheless you will need training. Have you figured out what you can do yet?" Drew raised an eyebrow, letting go of Bell's hand.

He didn't even have to think about it. The flames just came so naturally to him, engulfing his hands in flames. The woman raised an eyebrow. "Pyrokinesis. How much control do you have? For example, can you set any other part of your body alight other than your hands?" She asked. He shrugged, concentrating a little more. The flames left his hands and flickered up his arms and across his shoulders, before he extinguished them. She observed him for a second. He attempted to read her expression, but allowed his eyes to drop instead. "Interesting. Everyone else I've seen tends to set themselves and everything else around them ablaze, and we usually have to use hosepipes to put them out. But you seem to have almost perfect control."

The woman turned around to Bell. "And what about you?"