I cried as everything went from black to bright red to black to a searing white. They were the lights that would haunt me for the next three hours. Three hours of ambulance lighting. Funny, I had always liked those colorful lights before that night.

That night. The most horrible night in my life. Possibly.

We had been attacked. That was it, wasn't it?

Attacked. Both parents of mine were dead from that man who had broken in to take our money.

Dead from trying to save me. I had been sleeping and they said that there was none else in the house. He killed them and left with all the money. I woke up the next morning to find them gone. Quickly calling the police was all I could do. Then the sirens. The Lights.

The beeping was the worst. The monitor that was hooked into me, the constant beeping! I wish it had shut off. Just one dead green line going across the black screen, it was making me go insane. I thought about death a lot. Who it was, female or male.

It was a long time before they would let me out of the godforsaken hospital. It wasn't as if I was in any serious damage physically, they just had no place to put me, as I was now alone in this world. I had to be put into processing, then sent to a shelter for children as they arranged my home and gave my dog up to the pound. I actually told them off for doing this, demanding my dog be given to my best friend. Because of my 'state of mind' they obliged willingly. I think it was just because I was being a bitch.

I was loaded into the car of my new parents three weeks from the Sunday my parents were killed. They were the complete opposite. My parents were loving, and kind. These parents were strait collared black tie bozos looking for some tomboy they can make into their own 'little princess'.

I was the ginny-pig.

I was set up in a lace filled room. All of it was pink, blue and white. It looked like the outside of that strawberry birthday cake I had when I was five. The only things from my original life were stored in public storage until I was 18 and could move out. The only items I had with me were 2 stuffed animals and a photo album witch reminded me of the better days.

Soon after I was placed in therapy. They thought my 14 year old mind was too fragile and needed guidance through this hard time. In fact, they were somewhat right. It was hard. Was.

I was walking home from school one day when I suddenly dropped to my knees and hit the pavement. Blackness swirled around me and I was hit by a thousand volts. The volts turned out to be one of those medical electric heart re-starters. But I knew that there was something else.

Ever since I woke up in the hospital bed and the doctors told me I has suffered form severe stress trauma, I had to take off months of school. But, ever since then I saw the world differently. Not the whole world, just... him.

Him.

I saw him for the first time when I was sitting up in bed reading. He was tall, my age, and slender. He had long amounts of black hair witch were spiked on the bangs. Much like the anime characters in my book that was open upon my knees. A black robe donned him and a silver tunic clad his figure underneath.

He was standing outside a see through window to the Critical Infant Care Center. One baby he was looking at particularly hard. The baby was breathing irregularly, and had had problems in the past with its health. I learned this from my weeks stay here.

Suddenly the babe began to quiver and I saw the boy's hand become tighter, closing slowly into a fist. Soon, his fingernails touched the inside of his palm as his hand made a whole fist. The babe lay still. Its parents came, and little baby Gabriel was pronounced dead at 2:30 pm Wednesday.

The boy turned around slowly at 2:31. Seconds after he had killed the babe. But how could he? He had just watched it! And closed his fist!

He turned, and looked into my eyes. His eyes were the color of freshly spilt blood. A crimson purple. I tried to look away as he walked over to the window to my room. His lips were curved downward in a frown as he held up his hand again, his fingers, slowly closing.

I jumped out of bed and ran to the glass, the little IV needles ripping out of my arm. Little blood spots splattered onto my rope as I pounded again and again on the un-crack able glass.

"Stop!" I yelled. "I don't want to die! Stop!" I started to cry. Tears of regret and betrayal spilled down my cheeks. I knew I was lying, from the look on the boy's face, he knew it too. I did want to die. Wanted it so badly. My breath caught in my chest and I hit the floor.

The next moment I drew breath, the doctors were standing over me. "Never rip out you IV's! You had no fluid in your body, you could have died!!" The doctor almost screamed at me. I ignored him, my eyes staring into the nothingness of my rooms ceiling. I knew that wasn't it. It was the boy, he made me faint. He was telling me something. He could end my pain.

I then knew who the boy was. He was death.

Hours went by and I again slipped out of conciseness. Not because of IV drips or stress trauma. But because I had willed it and ~he~ had helped.

I was standing in a long hallway, the boy standing on the opposite side.

"Who are you?"

" I am who you think I am." His voice clicked and hissed like a serpent. But it was smooth, and surprisingly kind. I loved it.

"Why have you come?"

"You know why I am here. I want to have you. I wish not to give you to them, but earn you a place in the heavens." His arms stretched out as if to hug an invisible person.

He was right, from the moment those blood red eyes looked at me. He knew how far my depression ran. I wanted my life to end. I needed my life to end.

I slowly walked, one foot in front of the other, down that hallway. His hands brushed my arms like silk, and his mouth curved into a happy, almost joyful smile. I smiled too, but with more sadness. His arms enclosed around my waste as I lay my head against his chest.

Suddenly, I could not breath. Terrified, I looked at him.

"Hush, like the babe, it hurts when it is taken. Rapture will come shortly."

And it did.

My head began to swim, my vision clouded. As I felt the brush of lips against my forehead, white wings of light surrounded me as I was being lifted upwards.

The doctors could never find out why I never woke up. They said I was in complete health, my heart just stopped.

They were wrong. I was dieing inwardly from sadness. Death had helped me with that sadness.

I was with my real parents before the doctors found the monitor.

Just one dead green line going across the black screen.