I had tried so many times to understand that hidden talent that I found within myself, the kind that only came out when I was alone and away from the world. My creations were beautiful--they never lacked the potential, at least. But they were also twisted, lost, misunderstood, and I suffered to explain why they came from a shallow soul such as mine.

My parents knew nothing of my passion for music. They would not approve, anyways. They were firm believers in the practice of logic, of pure educational values that you could take with you, into the world of economics and through life, to become some sort of rich business fanatic.

But this... this was ostentatious. It had no right to be so obscure, no right to carry that odd, haunting beat that I had spent weeks creating forced me to close my eyes and regain my state of mind. It didn’t used to be so hard to accept these things. But, then again, I had never felt such a need for expression before.

I had just moved from the town that I had grown up in through all my life to the cold, rich, infamous town of Winter. People all over the world envied its citizens; they were all insanely beautiful, and academically skilled. I knew of not one human being who was not intimidated by them.

I was no exception. I was scared to death of this sudden change, and the fact that I was not experienced in moving every year as my parents had been was no help. What was I going to say to the other students? Would they be as artificial as the girls at my previous school? I was not blinded to the fact that Winter Academy of the Elite--the only school around--had been more than reluctant to accept me. I had the grades, but not the... aristocracy that they held. Not many people moved in and out of Winter. Not many people seemed to want to.

But my parents had insisted. They were wealthy beyond imaginable--not even I knew how much money they had, exactly. Though the citizens of Winter were less than urgent to invite our family with open arms, no one could resist the proper amount of money. My parents were the owners of a luxurious resort that they had set up in various cities. They were built to feel like home, without the keeping and setbacks of the real thing. For an impressive amount of money, guests could be treated with the most delicate politeness, served day in and day out by more than urgent well-raised young adults.

Me? I didn’t fit in at all. While my parents were the sit-up-straight, wash your hands after every meal kind of people, I believed in a well-worked immune system and unrestricted creativity.

If my parents heard my music, they would freak out. In their world, nothing had a right to be different and complex.

A car door slammed from outside our sinfully large mansion. Four floors, each the size of an average house. I had a floor to myself, and had locks to every door, but my parents were ridiculously against teenaged privacy. I shoved the music sheets into the folder that I had kept for situations like these and locked it into the closet, switching off my plug-in keyboard rapidly. I kicked it under the bed, pulling my hair from its pony-tail as I raced towards the door. I ran downstairs as fast as I could, sighing and fighting to compose myself as the large wooden door swung open and revealed my stiff-faced, pale, brunette mother. She nodded and gave a tiny, polite smile before swooshing past towards the coat rack.

“Hello, Lilac, how was your day?”

Lilac. I fought the groan that erupted in my throat at the sound of my name, turning away from my mother so that I would be free to roll my eyes, a habit that I had grown accustomed to through the last few years. I hated my name, and went stiffly by my middle, Liam. Lilac was too... delicate, so desperately feminine.

“It was fine, Mom. The neighborhood is beautiful,” I managed as my mom grew impatient. “Where’s Dad?”

Mom sighed in exasperation as she slipped her insanely high heeled shoes off. “He insisted on giving the Winter Academy headmaster a visit. He wanted to see what kind of school we‘re sending our daughter to, though I think you‘re old enough to care for yourself. I don’t see what trouble you could have--you study, you’re polite, and, as much as I wish the world didn’t depend on it, you’re from a wealthy family.”

Yeah right. My mom tried to be humble. It never worked the way she thought it did.

“Have I been accepted? Tomorrow’s Monday.”

“The letter came when we were still back home. We told you that, didn’t we? Winter seems to be a pretty spiffy society, but Frederic is set on you having classes with the same people so that you can become comfortable with familiar faces or something--I don‘t know. Don‘t see how it would make any difference--you‘re still the new kid. But I’ve never seen your father have anything but his way, so don’t be apprehensive, dear.”

I bit my lip. Oh, how I had hoped that I would be rejected, and we would be forced to move back to our hometown. With a forfeited slouch, I walked to the stairs and turned abruptly, smiling that stiff, polite smile that I had been forced to practice. “Well, I’ll be unpacking, I guess. Excuse me.”

I thumped upstairs before my mother could say anything else that might endanger my hopefulness. The stairs were a slick marble, cold under my bare feet. Truthfully, I hated all the space. Back home, we had only had a spacious apartment, and that had made me somewhat anxious. Someone could sneak into your house and you wouldn’t even know it. I had always been an obsessive compulsive person. I hated disruption in any certain routine, and would go to any length to make sure my projects remained untouched.

I neared my floor timidly, making sure that my mom didn’t suddenly come up with something else to tell me and invade my personal space. If I was ever caught with lyrics like the one that I had been working on this morning, it would mean unending chaos.

The air of my floor already felt... different from the rest of the house. I was candle crazed, fascinated by how many scents they could come up with. My latest purchases were “clean sheets” and “new car”. I liked coming into my room and having a nice, calm aroma there to welcome me. When my parents were screaming and rushing around the house trying to file important paperwork or make an extreme decision that could affect the business, I was sitting on the couch watching them, laughing to myself.

I stalked to my room lazily, not sure of what to do. The song--drums, guitars, vocals, and all--that I had been working on for months was finally complete, and I had little choice but to wait and let it settle in my mind before revising it again. Options were what I was worst with. I could go running, or hiking, like I used to, but the land of Winter was unfamiliar to me, and I was afraid that I would get lost or find myself unable.

So, traveling straight to my desk once inside the bedroom, I pulled out my old poetry book and crashed onto the bed. I always cried when I looked at these painful, old memories. I had been a very depressed thirteen year old, endlessly pondering and analyzing the world and its people. And so, as I flipped through the pages filled with desperate lyrics and painful sketches of bleeding roses and the such, I found myself crying to sleep.

“Like soldiers, march on, if we can make it through tonight we’ll see the sun. arch on, march on...”

The familiar ring tone of Good Charlotte’s March On blasted into my ears. I groaned and flinched, my poetry book tumbling to the floor as I shoved the covers off. It was 5:30 a.m. I flipped my cell phone open irritably and mumbled something that was supposed to be a “hello”. My dad’s gruff voice came flooding through the speaker, forcing me to snap my hand away from my ear. Carefully, I leaned towards it again.

“What? Dad, slow down.”

Dad paused for a moment to catch his breath and started again. I sighed and leaned back onto my pillow, shooting daggers at the clock as I waited for his response.

“Okay. Sorry. Um... now I forgot what I was saying. But it doesn‘t matter. Just get dressed and wait by the door. I’ll drive you. School starts at six, not seven--sorry. Hurry.”

“You could have woken me up earlier--” the silence that exploded through the speaker told me that he had hung up. I was too tired to comprehend what I had just heard, and had no intention of trying, so I kicked out of bed and pulled myself towards the dresser.

Fighting to spend as little time as possible on my outfit, I slipped on my knee-length, long sleeved black cotton dress. I tried to pull up my matching knee high socks while I walked down the hall, but it didn’t work, and I ended up sitting halfway between my destination and my takeoff point, mumbling to myself with tired inaudibility.

I tumbled towards my bathroom swiftly, brushing my teeth and hair and applying eyeliner while shoving anything in my way off of the counter. I knew that I would wake my mom up, and she would storm upstairs and scold me for being so inconsiderate, but that didn’t matter now. What mattered was getting to school on time on my first day.

I swung my backpack over my shoulder and sped towards the stairs. Feeling for my iPod in my pocket, I raced down impatiently, promising to myself that I would count the steps when I came home. Either there were a hundred, or I was getting weak again.

The front door swung open almost as soon as it came into view. My dad poked his well-groomed head in, smiling when he saw me and disappearing again. I followed calmly, well aware of the risk that I took when being in the same room as my father on one of his happy days.

“Are you excited?”

I bit my lip, thinking this over. It was a lot easier to be honest with my dad than Mom. I actually liked Dad--everyone did, even his business enemies. He was a happy-go-lucky kind of guy, smiling and joking around while making a point. I didn’t know how he did it, but there was not a concept that Dad couldn’t help you understand.

“Kind of. But I’m mostly nervous. I mean... Winter, Dad. Scary.”

Dad chuckled from the front seat, glancing back at me and raising an eyebrow. “Really? Well, actually, I know what you mean. But Winter has a great population, and they’re all pretty wealthy. That means money. At this rate, you could go to grad school a hundred times, and we’d still do alright.”

I sighed. That’s how it always was: education before fun.

The rest of the ride passed in silence. Winter sure was beautiful, I couldn’t deny that. Gallant Victorian houses sat on the perfect-paved street, grass green and lush, a soft sprinkle of winter’s first snow across it. The trees were completely white, towering over us in humble pulchritude. It was still dark out, that kind dew over the car window. The stars of the night sky were perfectly visible with the lack of streetlights. That made me smile.

The car reached a halt after only a couple of blocks, and I instantly swung the door open. That new-school apprehension filled my veins, and I was giddy with excitement. Smiling and bidding farewell to my father and promising to walk home--it was a straight walk, anyways, and a short one at that--I gently swung my backpack onto my shoulder and trudged towards the tall, white building that awaited me.

It sure was pretty, if nothing else. I almost didn’t want to enter the glorious school, out of fear that my boots would track mud over their clean floors. But, nevertheless, I trudged on, ignoring the staring teenagers around me. I caught the door behind a pair of laughing girls that seemed oblivious to my being there. Most people seemed to know exactly where their lockers and classes were already, which left me standing there dumbly as I thought over what I thought I should do.

After asking for specific directions to the principle’s office, getting lost, and asking again, I found myself standing before a big redwood door with a matching steel knob. I carefully turned it and peeked in, hoping desperately that I wasn’t supposed to have knocked.

“You must be Miss Ri?”

I flinched and realized that I had been looking the wrong direction. Smiling sheepishly, I stepped in and closed the door behind me, folding my hands behind my back and nodding to the short, skinny, handsome man who sat at the desk.

“We are happy to have you, Miss Ri. I have your schedule, a map of campus, and your locker number right here.”

I murmured a thank you as I slid the packet off the desk and into my arms, nearly dropping it in nervousness as the headmaster poorly stifled a chuckle. At least some people were human enough to make mistakes.

“I’m sure that you will find the academy to your liking. We have a suitable education for you, with many optional classes and plenty of individuals who I’m sure would gladly lend you a hand if anything went wrong. Have a nice day, Miss Ri. You are excused,” I smiled my thanks and rushed towards the door, glancing behind me before pulling the making my escape. In the corner sat a figure that I had not noticed until now. I looked him over hurriedly, frowning at how dense I was being today. Too tired, I thought. The boy looked to be my age, and was a few inches taller than me A bit too thin, but undoubtedly muscular. His long-ish brown hair was a faded shade, his skin an odd, not-quite-pale color. And yet, despite the untouchable features of the boy, his eyes were what caught me and sparked the unquenchable thirst.

They were a weird, indigo-turquoise color, blending in perfect collision. But his pupils were tiny, the kind you got when a fire was blasting right in front of your face. While the hall was fairly dark due to the sun not yet filling the windows, his eyes were still ready for the brightest possible light to blast in at any moment. It was almost as if hehad no pupils whatsoever.

But then the door was closing behind me, and I was on my way to my first class, the boy’s strange appearance still fresh in my mind.

It was amazing how many people there actually were at this school. It was like Mall of America or something, judging by the size of campus and the diverse population of students. Everyone seemed, however, relatively... normal. Though each were intimidating, with enviable good looks that I occasionally found myself scoffing at, there were no ridiculously beautiful people in Winter as the outside world had proclaimed--well, aside from the boy in the headmaster’s room.

No one spoke to me in any of my classes. People stared, that was for sure, but never spoke. They all watched my every movement, flinched in surprise when I snapped at their inconsiderate stares, whispering to one another when they thought I wasn’t listening. One thing about Lilac Liam Ri that was not hard to catch on to was that, however dense I may be in any other case, I am exceptionally talented when it comes to catching people bad-mouthing me. If you are in the same room, and have a problem with me, I know.

Lunch came quickly. Pulling out my sandwich and hoisting myself up onto one of the stone walls in the front that fenced the giant building, I took one bite and put it back. The taste of food, though I had long ago gotten over the disorder, made me nauseous, particularly on nervous days like this.

I turned to the other side and laid back, my arms folded beneath my head, as I stared at the now-clear sky above. If anything, Winter was peaceful. My being an... outsider could be an advantage. I was certainly better able to observe the relationships of these people without being blinded by the yearn to be included.

I closed my eyes and let the soft hum of talking voices fade as I focused on a new music piece to start. I had already synced the keyboard, guitar, and violin together for the previous song, leaving revision the only priority towards that project. I needed something more to focus on, some sort of lead. Inspiration--that was the word. I wanted to work with something that I hadn’t worked with for a while. A solo, to avoid recording and meshing each separate piece, like I usually did.

“Hi--You’re Lilac Ri, right?”

I sputtered some sort of squeak as I shoved my self upright--amazingly without falling off of the wall--and smiling at the newcomer. He was raven-haired with bright brown eyes, a wide smile on his face as he pushed himself up onto the cool stone beside me.

“Uh... Yeah. But, if you don’t mind, could you call me ‘Liam’? It’s my middle name...”

“Sure, no problem. I’m Pachith Vulpes, by the way,” He extended a slender-fingered hand warmly, his fingertips gently brushing the back of my hand.

I stared at it for a moment before placing my small hand in his and letting him shake it. He sighed and crossed his legs with impressive balance--I, myself, had my legs dangling over the edge, the bottoms pressed against the wall in hopes of not falling. I was once the strongest girl in my class, my boundaries far beyond my view, athletic abilities my specialty.

But that was gone.

Pachith and I sat in silence for a few moments as we stared at the people around us. The world was so busy. Everyone had a goal for every moment of the day, and if they didn’t, they found one.

“So... how old are you, Liam?” he questioned, turning to face me again. He swung a leg over the wall so that he had one on either side, patting his hands against the stone in some sort of subconscious drumming. I smiled to myself--my new friend was impatient.

“I’ll be sixteen in twelve days.” I admitted.

“Really? I turned sixteen, like, seven months ago. My brother and I would have been juniors now, but... we got pretty preoccupied with track and field. Competition grows every year.” He shook his head solemnly and I giggled. He didn’t seem to understand why I was laughing--well, I didn’t either--but he smiled along.

“You have a brother?” I asked, intrigued.

“A twin.”

“And you both do track... it must be fun, being able to have someone to practice with, I mean.”

Pachith laughed outwardly, the sound warm and friendly. “Yeah. He’s my biggest competition. I can’t seem to beat him in long jump, but I’ve got high jump mastered. Do you do anything?”

I shook my head, frowning solemnly. “Sports wise, no. I used to, but I... I just...”

“What happened?”

A shudder shot down my spine. I knew what had happened. The world was oblivious, but I knew. But before I could shoot back that automatic defense line, I looked up and into Pachith’s big naïve eyes. I couldn’t destroy this friendship--not yet, at least.

“I... made some fatal mistakes.”

He nodded, seeming to understand my defensiveness. He bit his lip for a moment, looking me over, before trying again. “So do you have any other hobbies? I mean, everyone has something they enjoy doing, right?”

I nodded, smiling. “I’m a big music fanatic, though my parents don’t know anything of it. I taught myself the piano, violin, flute, guitar, cello, and the trumpet... I’ve not yet mastered any, but I’m working on it...”

There was a pause. Suddenly self-conscious, I looked up to find Pachith staring dumbly at me, his eyebrows raised. “Dang,” he murmured blankly. “That’s pretty amazing--I mean, I’m about as tone death as you can get.”

“For some reason, I can imagine that. You being tone-death, I mean--you’re too lanky,” I laughed, hopping off of the wall.

“Now what does lankiness have to do with music, Lilac?“ he teased, copying me and staying at my flank as we walked back towards the building, meeting the bell’s beckon with perfect timing.

He waved as we set our separate ways, and I smiled to myself. A friend on my first day, even when moving this late into the year. Maybe moving on wouldn’t be so hard as I thought.

As quickly as I could, I sped towards the building’s exit, backpack still wide open. I zipped it hurriedly and pulled my iPod from my pocket and turned it on. There were plenty of others anxious to be off the school grounds. Some lagged behind, chatting with a group of friends, ignoring the teachers stomping back and into their shiny cars, managing to scold a few students on the way.

“No, it’s not alright. Do you want to die, Bear? Do you?” a sharp, deep male voice exploded into my eardrums. Glancing behind me as I hurried away--I did not want to get caught up in that, or anything that had to do with death--I vaguely felt myself freeze in place. It was the same obscure, beautiful boy that I had seen earlier, in the Headmaster’s room. He was cornered by a long-haired brunette who looked to be about five-ten, and still shorter than the boy by about four inches. The brunette’s hands were clasped to his head in exasperation, his posture stiff with worry. Whoever that boy was, he was deeply cared for, and in danger.

And then, for the second time that day, the boy without pupils met my gaze.

Then I was on my way again, spinning on my heels back into the crowd of people, away from the chaotic scene, returning to my safe spot in the secluded corner.

I was a messy walker, as odd as it sounds, so the sound was easy to follow. I focused on it as intensely as I could as I turned away from the school and down the street. It was the soft scrape that, no matter how hard I tried to walk without it, I was stuck with. I was so weak. It was hard to think of how I had once been, how I had been the champion, how people would come to watch me run and jump, cheering for me as I slowly became better and better.

But I had let them down. I had let myself go, destroyed that path. I hated myself for that. I hated that I had been so cruel as to completely and utterly destroy all of those chances. The pressure had gotten to me; I was forced to be perfect. But I found the line between black and white finer than imaginable, and I slowly stumbled to the wrong side.

My house loomed before me like some annoying dream that wouldn’t go away. The long, intimidating driveway was vacant, which meant that no one was home and I would be able to blast my music as loud as wished--with, of course, a few precautions here and there.

I pulled my keys from my bag and sped up my pace, giddy with relief at the thought of coming home to think in peace. The fallen memories were slowly climbing up the latter, and I knew from experience that it was best to be prepared for them. I was traumatized, and repressed the harsh thoughts ruthlessly. But every once in a while they would shine.

The house was silent as I pushed through the door. A shiver shot down my spine at the echo of my footsteps, stumbling towards the stairs with my backpack on one shoulder. Tired as I was, I made it up the many flights of stairs and into my room, shutting the door gently behind me and collapsing onto my bed.

At least I had made an acquaintance today. That was nice.

I closed my eyes and focused on slowing my breathing, as if I was meditating, relaxing my muscles and letting a smile fade onto my face. I was always so tense, so ready for someone to shoot an offensive comment my way. It had once been an advantage; now it was just a useless habit.

It had ended--or so we all thought--two years ago, when I was fourteen. My parents were panicking day in and day out, and the business was in jeopardy. They had lost a lot of respect because of me. What kind of wealthy, polite, happy family had a daughter as troubled as me?

I can still hear them arguing every night, as I clasped my knees to my body and ducked my head down into my skinny arms. They were angry at me, and we all knew it. But they were not aloud to point fingers at a child, to say the things that were true, but I would never be able to admit. So they took it out on each other, in order to be able to have a composed face when I was in the room.

But I could hear them.

“You’re the one who pressures her--you and your goddamned assistants. She’s still a girl, Frederic! For goodness sake, she doesn’t have to think about those things!”

“Shut up, Maris. Just shut the fuck up! You’re the one who spent the most time with her! How the hell could I contribute to her issues if I wasn’t around?”

“Exactly! You were never around! Having a father that doesn’t want anything to do with you is bound to be ten times worse than having a dead one! Do you know her? Do you know what she likes to do? What her writing looks like? Her favorite color? Yeah, Fred, do you even know your daughter’s favorite color?”

“Don’t act like you know her any more than I do. No one’s buying it. You have no clue what she wants out of life--no one does. Stop pretending, Maris. I don’t know what world you’re living in, but you’re not perfect. Dammit, you’re far from it!”

I remember my blonde braid, twirling it around my finger and unwrapping it, over and over again. I tried studying, once, while they were arguing. I ended up subliminally doodling all over the paper until you couldn’t see the answers any more. Gosh, I tried everything. But each time I was just left to sit there and take it all in, until finally, I got sick of it.

I was sick of hurting my parents. I didn’t want everyone to pity me anymore, to walkup to me and hug me and tell me it will be alright, to ask me the most personal questions. So I locked it all away, in hopes of regaining a life.

I knew that my parents no longer loved each other. The only thing that kept them together after my dismemberment from their perfect family was their business. So I stepped to the side and took care of myself, so that they wouldn’t have to.

After a couple hours, I woke up from my slumber and decided to get out. Tying my hair back briskly and wrapping my coat tight around my too-skinny waits, I trudged down the stairs and out the door, greeted by the first snowfall of winter.

People were outside, holding out their hands, smiling as the snowflakes fell into their palms. Up close, they really were pretty. Not inhumanly beautiful, like the boy without pupils, but unusual, nevertheless. Some were the classic high-cheek boned, long necked, slender-fingered women and men of the modeling society. But the others, the younger citizens, were only extremely pretty, or cutely handsome. Perhaps that was why I hadn’t noticed it before. Big eyes, small noses, tiny frames. It was weird, looking at these people and comparing them to the life I had known. The preppy girls who smothered themselves in makeup weren’t fit to even lick these people’s boots.

Maybe it was the way they smiled as they stared at the falling snow, like millions of falling fireflies filling the cold air. I wondered why they took such joy in the snow, when most of the people that I had known groaned and put away the miniskirts.

I continued down the street, in no obvious direction, but with obvious purpose. Though I had my license, I was highly against using a car to walk mild lengths. It was a habit that I had picked up through life and, though the reason for the activity was not to a good cause, It was comforting and meditative.

Slowly but surely, the ground was beginning to seem inevitably padded with thick, pure snow. Children ran out to play in their luxuriously cushioned snow pants, mothered smiled out the windows as they mixed hot coco to prepare for their sons and daughters to get cold and come back inside, fathers drove home from work in their shiny black cars, rushing into the house to be home with their families. It was all so surreal, like some cheesy old sitcom. It was strange to watch these isolated people carry on with their lives with no worries but the most simple, while the rest of the world was gouged with depression and mental disorders and murders.

It was no surprise, witnessing this with my own eyes, that outsiders were intimidated by Winter’s way of life. These were happy, beautiful grateful people. Compared to Winter, everyone else were just narcissistic melodramatics.

I walked for a few miles without recognizing where I had gone. The air was full of the smell of wet pavement, the road shining in melted slush as cars passed by. As the buildings became for frequent and larger, such as night clubs and supermarkets, I realized just how big Winter was. It had different districts, like New York or Chicago, all filled to the brim with happy people.

I found myself standing in front of some sort of night club, with big flashing lights and all-aged acceptances. The walls were a firm black brick, the windows tiny but clean. It towered above me like a giant, it’s colossal hand extended, as it invited me in for a taste of real Winter culture.

I pushed open the door, waiting for the familiar sound of the bells that were hooked to the top to jungle. But, to my humble surprise, the music inside was much too loud to hear something that simple.

The crowd, large as it was, pushed up against the stage as tightly as possible, waving their arms through the air as multicolored lights flashed around. The ground was, instead of a grungy pavement, was covered in slick black carpeting, the furnishings only the most urban black sofas and chairs and tables. It was somewhat like a jazz lounge, though more various in genres. Pictures of string and brass and woodwind instrument were lined up against the ever-so-high wall, while complicated looking electric guitars were displayed like jerseys or ice cream flavors. People in suits and hats and jet-black sunglasses sat in the back, tapping their toes along with the music as lithe girls with long black hair and tall blonde boys intertwined like black and white against the stage, where a charming, long haired brunette man sat and played piano faster and harsher than I would have thought possible, as a lankier looking boy followed the same tune on an electric violin.

It was weird, watching them, how they could get the crowd riled up using the most basic instruments to create rock-sounding melodies. I couldn’t see their faces, only their silhouettes against the bright lights, but they seemed so happy, moving along with the music; they were so... passionate.

I smiled and slid my backpack that I had taken with me for emergencies into my hand as I went to sit in an empty booth in the back corner. Some of the other wallflowers glanced at me as I passed, their smooth, flawless skin shining in the lights, but I received no ridiculed attention like I had expected to receive.

I closed my eyes and focused on the music as I thought over the new composition that I was planning to start. I had no planned inspiration--generally I took the idea of a hurricane, or a war, or rejection. Then there were the happy things, like birth and marriage and just straight out joy. But now I hit a wall: I had done everything. They were all stacked neatly in little paper folders in a cardboard box at the top of my closet, waiting for me to revisit them someday. Who knows--maybe it was the right time to do so. But I could feel that hidden need in my throat, like when you are about to say something, but forget it. And then of course it bothers you for the rest of the day until, finally, you remember it. But usually it’s midnight when that happens and the person you were talking to in the first place is no longer around to converse with.

But that was the thing with my music--it was on my own time, and there was no one to pressure me to get it done. It would be nice, I decided, to receive some feed back every once ion a while, but I wasn’t going for professional or anything that required acknowledgement. I had only taught myself, after all; you can only go so far with that.

“We’ll be taking a bit of a break for a while,” a familiar voice cooed. The lanky figure that had bee playing the violin hopped off of the stage, stretching and wobbling towards the drink stand. A beam of light shined onto his face, and I smiled in calm recognization, standing as the pianist came to stand beside the first. It was the man from earlier, who had been scolding the boy with no pupils. The violinist was Pachith, though he looked... Calmer now, lighter. I paced towards the water stand, where the duo was headed, hastily not sure if I should make my presence.

“Water, please,” Pachith grumbled. The bartender nodded and filled the cup swiftly, handing it to the violinist as he scooted into a chair. His companion hopped up beside him, crossing his legs and letting his long brown hair fall from it’s pony tail.

“Um... Pachith?” I murmured, unsure of myself. The raven-haired boy looked up to meet my gaze. There was a pause as he glanced at the brunette, before turning back to me and grinning gently.

“I’m sorry, but I’m Chythe, Pachith’s twin brother. And who might you be?”

I blushed, scratching my neck sheepishly. “Oh, sorry... Um, I’m Liam Ri. It’s, er, nice to meet you, Chythe.”

“Nice to meet you, too, Liam,” I noticed a cautious look sweep across his face as I introduced himself. Brushing it off, I turned to the caramel skinned man who sat silently at his side, smiling politely.

“And who are you?”

He flashed perfect white teeth that complimented his smooth caramel skin and dark brown hair. His eyes were a crude light grey, piercing behind long black lashes. “Telle Ronaldi, nice to meet you.”

“Telle represents the ‘three P’s.’” Chythe mumbled.

Telle jerked his head glare at Pachith’s twin, licking his lips as his fist tensed. “And what might that be, Chythe, my dear friend?”

Chythe grinned, sticking a finger up for each P he identified. “Pianist, Photographer, and Player!”

I giggled, covering my mouth with my hand, as Telle rolled his eyes, saying nothing. “Pianist, photographer, and player, hm? For some reason, I can imagine that...”

Telle crossed his arms. “Oh, gee, thanks.”

Chythe and I laughed as the gallant looking man dropped his dignity. He was naked against friendly criticism, but, to his advantage, Telle still was insanely handsome. Chythe, I had noticed, was thinner than his brother, with more innocent features and a sharper tongue to contradict them. I sat beside them , listening as they carried on about the audience or the new semester. I listened keenly, trying to pick out some information that might lead to my finding out who the boy with no pupils was. I couldn’t get his face out of my mind--those perfect, powerful features that told of his strength and rebelliousness, while his big eyes and full lips and thin waist showed nothing but cuteness.

A plump announcer in a sweater vest and glasses called the dup back up to the stage, obviously irritable. Chythe sighed loudly and followed, folding his hands behind him as he paced through the crowd. Telle stayed behind for a few moments, eying me strangely.

“Don’t stay out past dark, Liam. Promise me you won’t stay out past dark.”

I blinked, wrinkling my brow in confusion. “What do you mean? What’s wrong? Winter’s a nice place... right?”

“Yes, Liam. But, please. Don’t stay out past dark. You should probably start heading home now. It’s getting late. See you at school,” Telle waved without looking back as he ran to catch up with Chythe. I didn’t understand, but something about the deep tones of Telle’s bass-like voice forced me to obey. I stood, glancing back and waving as Chythe caught my eye from atop the stage, and found my way to the door.

The air was cold around me, my breath perfectly visible as white mist in the snow. The streets were much more crowded than they had been a few hours ago, but I still saw no reason that I should be particularly wary, but Telle’s words still haunted me, and no woman messed with a man who was more popular and stronger than she was.

People pressed against me, smiling white smiles, their clothes ranging from baggy T-shirts and jeans to corsets and leather miniskirts. They seemed to be everywhere, not a breath of fresh air to be brought to my screaming lungs. I was vaguely aware of becoming dizzy, of realizing that I had not eaten for the last few days. I pressed a hand to my head as my knees buckled down. Cold air swept past as I dashed for the nearest alley, squatting against a wall, the cement cold beneath me.

Angry footsteps neared, followed by the angry bickering of a woman and a man in some other language. I scrambled up clumsily, my backpack hanging on for dear life to my shoulder, and ran to the back of the building, It was even darker here; quieter, though, easier to breathe. I walked a few more feet until I was safely away. And collapsed again. I squeezed my eyes shut and scolded myself. Why couldn’t I just be like normal people, and keep track of my meals? I knew how prone I was to dizziness, how fragile I was, how I could not risk this. But it just never seemed to catch on.

“Tired, love?”

I gasped, looking up to see a pale, raven-haired man sitting cross legged in front of me. Why hadn’t I heard him? I pressed closer to the building, whimpering at the intimidating glare in those fiery red eyes. He scooted closer, every movement of his tall and lean body graceful. He reached out and took hold of my chin, jerking my head to look at him. Long nails brushed my skin, his hands unfairly cold.

“Now, what’s a pretty human girl like you doing in a flock of vampires and werewolves? Silly girl. Silly, pathetic little girl.”

His voice stung against my ears, inhumanly calm, yet so furious. In one swift movement he had a knee on either side of me, kissing my neck with his perfect lips. I whimpered, trying to push away, but he had me in an iron grip. I shoved against him, dug my nails into his back, but I was pitiful against him.

“Did you know, dear? I’m a vampire. Shh, Liam, shh...”

“H--How do you know m--my name?!” I let out a yelp as his hands pushed up my dress, fingering the small of my back, sending uncomfortable shivers down my spine.

“Everyone knows your name, Liam. You’re the human girl. The skinny, depressive, human girl.”

He shoved me down against the pavement, my head hitting the ground. He slid his hands down my arms as I squirmed and kicked, unable to disrupt his ease at any cost. A lump rose in my throat, forcing a cough, a shriek. He reached for my underwear, fingers tensed, eyes determined.

“STOP!”

My voice scared me. I was scared after realizing what I had done: he would probably hit me now, knock me out so that I would have no chance of escaping. But he paused. Not for long, but for a moment, he paused. I took the opportunity to roll onto my side, stepping up rapidly.

But the I tripped.

A pained grunt sounded from behind me. I flipped over, still crawling back, looking for the strange, beautiful man. Instead, I saw a more muscular, boyish figure, standing over a bloodied body. The newcomer slammed his fists into my attacker’s gut, kicking him, leaving him unconscious. He took a few deep breaths before squatting down, slowly approaching me on his knees. Carefully, gently, he held out a timid hand, his hair covering his face.

And then he looked up. That perfect white skin and luxurious lashes that enveloped the fierce, indigo-turquoise, pupil-less eyes that expressed every emotion that stung when I met them, confusing my heart mercilessly. The pulchritudinous boy smiled sheepishly, meeting my gaze as he leaned forward.

“Are you okay?”

Darkness.

“It was Melville Helch. Don’t be ridiculous--Melville gets his way, no matter what the conditions. Don‘t go blaming me.”

I awoke to the sound of two restless voices arguing. I was in a bed, fully clothed, with the covers tucked around me and my shoes to the side. I whimpered, my head pounding, my heart thumping in my chest. Realizing the situation that I was in, I froze, waiting until my mind cleared so that I could try to remember what had happened, and who I was with.

“I don’t care. She could have died.”

“I swear to God, you’ll be the death of me.”

“Probably.”

Here was a pause in the arguing. I could picture them sitting there, staring at each other, arms folded, though I had no idea who they were or what they looked like. I sat up, mumbling subconsciously. They said something inaudible to each other before nearing the room that I was in. I froze in mid-action, caught in an extremely uncomfortable position, as the door opened.

“You awake?”

I stifled a shriek as the boy with no pupils walked into the room. His eyes were as haunting as I remembered them, his hair still that awkward faded brown. That’s right, I thought sheepishly. He saved me. He grinned timidly as Telle followed behind him. The handsome brunette’s features were creased with worry, as he leaned against the wall and looked me over.

“Are you okay?”

I blinked and smiled as reassuringly as I could. Mom would be worried sick about me by now, and she expressed those feelings by interrogating me as soon as I stepped through the door.

“Don’t try to be comforting, Lilac. You look dumb when you fake it.”

I narrowed my eyes my savior, crossing my arms as I did so. “Well, aren’t we social, mister boy-with-no-pupils.”

He glared back, followed my motions without realizing that he was doing so. “Shut up. I have pupils. They just don’t dilate.”

“Ha. Right. What’s up with that, anyway? Are you blind?”

“No. I just can’t see in a lot of light. But there is nothing too dark for me, and because of that, I saved your life. You should be thankful.”

“Oh, trust me, I am,” I retorted angrily. “But I’m not thankful for you calling me dumb, O Kind One.”

“I didn’t call you dumb, I just said that you looked dumb when you faked emotions.”

He glared at each other for a few moments as Telle sat awkwardly in the middle. He wrestled his thumbs for a few moments, raising an eyebrow, before growing impatient and breaking you silence.

“You,” he demanded, turning to stare at me. “Need to eat something. Come on.”

Stumbling up from the bed and sticking my tongue out at the boy-with-no-pupils as I passed, I followed Telle clumsily, well aware of the boy-with-no-pupils following just as awkwardly behind me. I remembered him being so graceful, so swift, last night when he saved me. Maybe the light affected his agility?

Telle sat me at a table, the boy-with-no-pupils across from me, and rushed into to the fridge, pulling out a few random trays and mumbling to himself. “Are there any foods that you dislike or are allergic to, Liam?”

“Um... nope, I’m fine with anything. You really don’t have to, though...” No reason to tell him that I despised food in general.

“Don’t worry. I should have sent you home from the club sooner. I’m sorry.”

I ducked my head, fighting to hide my blush. But when I glanced up, it was obvious that the boy-with-no-pupils was not fooled. He narrowed his eyes flatly, arms still crossed. I stuck my tongue out, smiling hurriedly when Telle looked back at us.

“So, boy-with-no-pupils, what is your name?” I mumbled, realizing that I had not yet asked. He seemed to know mine, after all.

“Bear.”

I snickered without realizing, instantly ashamed. “Um... That’s an, er, interesting name...”

Bear turned his head, perfect profile boyish and rebellious. He was cute, I thought grudgingly. In an annoying sort of way. “I never knew my parents. Telle found me... Wandering the streets... when I was young. He thought I was a bear when he first saw me, hence the name.”

“A... bear?” I turned to Telle for confirmation, biting my in confusion when he nodded. “How...”

And then it hit me. My attacker, though I was suspicious of him having been intoxicated at the time, had spoken of werewolves and vampires. I had to admit, I wasn’t as skeptical as I thought that I had ought to be. There was just something about the people of Winter that kept me wondering how they could be so beautiful, so perfect, so intimidating. It certainly would explain why Telle had wanted me home early, why Winter was so secluded from the world. Why Telle would have thought that a boy was a bear.

“Um... That man last night... he said something about vampires and werewolves…?”

They both froze, refusing to meet my gaze. I grinned widely, feeling the rush of victory through my sore veins.

Before I can move on, I must explain to you why I believed it. If someone walked up to you and said that they were a vampire, would you believe them? Probably not. But I had long ago given up on common sense. I had no proof that I was not already dead, and it was all just a dream. I needed something to believe in, some indulgence, some inspiration. I do not think that you could fully understand until you have given up on yourself--and life, altogether. After seeing the glorious people of Winter, I had suspected nothing less. Suddenly, everything fit together.

Suddenly, I had a purpose.

“I’m right... I’m right, aren’t I?!”

Bear slammed his arms against the table, leaning in to stare at me with those depthless eyes of his. “Are you an idiot? Of course not! What kind of girl are you? How could you believe that freak?”

There was a pause. I raised a skeptical eyebrow at Bear’s frustrated face. If I was really wrong, I thought. He wouldn’t be so aggravated by my guess.

Telle, drummed his fingers against the counter that separated the kitchen from the dining room, staring at me in wonder. After a few moments, he turned away again, back to the food that he was preparing. He got some plates and scooped the pancakes onto them, grabbing some syrup and silverware as he stalked towards the table. He set everything up while I sat patiently waiting for his answer to my accusation. He sat down next to Bear and stared at me until I took a bite, chewed, and swallowed. Telle cleared his throat timidly and picked up his fork.

“It’s a wonder that you believe that. I have never known anyone who accepted a concept such as this. You really are a strange one.”

Bear fiercely forked the food into his mouth, pouting as he did so. He looked angrily up at Telle as he swallowed, anxious to speak his say. “What the hell? You waited years before you told me what was wrong!”

“You never guessed. You were young and angry. If I had told you before you were ready, you would have had my head for it,” Telle retorted blandly.

I stared at him. He was so calm about the matter, while Bear was sitting there fuming. I admired that--the man sitting there reading a book while the ship sank. He smiled at me as I fought to spit out my answer.

“So... what are you?” I murmured dully. It was an odd question. When somebody asks you “what you are” it is most likely an insult. But, at the time, I paid that no mind, filled only with genuine interest.

Telle grinned, long, dark-brown hair hanging over his shoulder as he leaned forward, sharp grey gaze intense. “I’m a full-blood vampire. There aren’t many of us in Winter--or in the world, for that matter. Most people are only a quarter vampire, or half. Same with werewolves.”

“What do you do?”

“Well, if you mean what kinds of abilities and the such that I have, then there aren’t many,” he answered, seeming to ponder the answer as he spoke. “I’m a classic vampire, which means that I just suck blood and charm people. I’m relatively strong and quick, but I’ve seen better.”

Bear grunted, having stopped eating. “He’s being modest. You saw him playing piano, right?” I nodded. “That’s not even close to how fast he can go.”

“Now who’s being modest?” Telle retorted. He turned to me and smirked mischievously as chills shot down my spine. I blinked. “Bear is half full-blood fironyte vampire and half full-blood coldwind werewolf.”

I blinked.

After a moment of wondering why I wasn’t acting surprised, he leaned back in his chair, smiling sheepishly. “Sorry. Forgot you were new,” I nodded in curt understanding. “So... Full-bloods, both vampire and werewolf alike, are very powerful and very rare. Fironyte vampires are very strong, very beautiful, very quick, and have resistance and comfort in fire. However, they are not aloud to look straight at it because of their eyes. Coldwind werewolves are beautiful, strong, quick, have resistance and comfort towards snow and water and wind and ice and the such. They are also, generally, the leaders of the pack...

“So, long story short, Bear’s top of both classes. Both combined. That’s why he’s rather... outcast. People fear him.”

I stared blankly ahead, struggling to keep up with the logic. From what I understood, Bear could kill me in an instant. And yet, instead of screaming and running for my life, I was all the more comfortable around me. It was that sense of danger, that adrenaline, that feeling of being alive, that kept me at his side. Well, at that time, at least.

I grinned. “Lilac, sweetie, how was your day?

“Oh, it was great, Mom! I just found out that everyone here is either a werewolf or a vampire!

“Really? Wow, honey, how exciting! I had no idea! Let’s go say hi to everyone and ask them uncomfortable questions!

“Okay, Mom! Great idea! I can’t wait!”

Bear stared at me, incredulous and confused, fists tensed in frustration. “What the hell are you doing, Lilac?” he demanded angrily.

I giggled, forking some more of the pancakes into my mouth. “I don’t really know, but I think it has something to do with what my mom would say if she heard all this.” Telle raised an eyebrow and smirked. Bear folded his arms and looked away. I knew that they thought I was crazy--so did I. But how was I supposed to react?

“So, um...” I struggled for something to say that would take the conversation away from my insanity. “What do you do about blood?”

“Because most of the vampires here are halves, we can feed off of each other without causing any harm. And if you’re a full-blood like me, and don’t have any blood to exchange, you find a werewolf who’s willing to give up their blood, like Bear.” Telle explained.

I nodded in understanding, pushing my empty plate away as I finished chewing the last piece. It was odd here, in this little apartment, with these comforting strangers. The building was small and cozy, one big room holding the kitchen, dining room, couch and TV. A hallway trailed from the far right corner, leading to two other rooms. “Whose home is this?” I questioned admiringly.

Bear grinned sheepishly as he stood to take our plates to the sink. “It’s mine,” he mumbled, distracting himself with the running sink and a dishcloth. I smirked to myself at his reluctance.

Bear was hard to understand, for, as strong and handsome as he was, their was also a source of timid indecisiveness in every decision he made. He touched everything with gentle fingers, only briefly met another’s eyes, thought before he spoke. And yet, when I had first saw him, I had been so intimidated; afraid, almost. He reminded me of his name, how it bore two different meaning, depending on if you were talking about the untamed animal or the teddy. And his eyes--those amazing, obscure eyes. The more I glanced their way, the more intriguing they became. That strange green-blue-pink color that they had, that endless ocean of his all seeing gaze. His skin was clear and pale, his faded brown hair sad, almost; calm. His build was both muscular and lithe, his legs tall and confident.

Telle, however, was the exact opposite. With his long brunette hair, piercing grey eyes, and slender model-build, the sure man only proved viciously charming and urgent to add his opinion towards any situation. He was easily approachable, the kind of handsome smiling man that would help old ladies across the street and dazzle school girls with playful winks and comfortable body language. Telle never ceased to say something, whether it be helpful or discouraging, and that was what made me comfortable around him.

And then there was me, Liam, the uncategorized guest to the dazzling town of Winter. I was weak, both emotionally and physically. Once, I had been warm and pretty, with a healthy body and optimistic voice. But when I had developed my problems, that had all gone down the drain, and I was left with a rebellious stomach and lame muscle. My hair was a dull, dark blonde, my skin as average as you could get. I was neither short nor tall, disgustingly skinny, and had crude blue eyes that could haunt any nightmare. As for my personality, I was secretive and obsessive, lacking self-confidence and the will to live a happy life.

The three of us were opposites. Yet here we were, at Bear’s kitchen table, our trust in one another as I took their word that they would not harm me and they told me the truth about Winter. It had, of course, occurred to me that they could be lying simply for the purpose of making a fool out of me, but I had decided to take that chance. If I did not know, after all, the same consequences would take place.

“It’s a snow day,” Bear murmured, checking the clock. “You should probably stop by your house, Lilac, to say you’re alright... Then we could show you around or something, if you’d like...”

“Well... My parents wouldn’t be home right now, so there’s no point in going back, I guess,” I muttered. “So... Um... What do you do around here on snow days?”

Bear grinned boyishly, leaning over the kitchen counter, rag still in hands. “We go sledding, or ice-skating, or skiing, or snow fighting, or make snowmen. Winter is a winter fan, believe it or not.”

Telle snorted at his friend’s wording but made no objection, nodding his sullen agreement. Slowly, he stood, pulling his hair back with a rubber band. “So, what do you want to do?” he questioned softly.

“Aw, you’re leaving it up to me?” I complained. He nodded. “Well… then let’s go ice skating. That okay?”

Bear groaned, dropping his head into his hands. Telle, instead, snickered, patting me on the back. “Great choice, Liam--Bear has never been.”

“I’m sure you’ll do fine,” I muttered, trying my best to be reassuring. Though, I could not see someone like Bear doing well on first try, so I don’t think it worked.

“Yeah, whatever,” Bear said. “Let’s just go and get this freak show over with.”