So, for those of you who have read it before, I've decided to re-write this story. And for those of you who have not read this, then ignore the following announcement :p

Basically, I really, really like this story, but it's needs revising, badly. I don't like how quickly I rushed into things, or where it was headed. I have future plans for the story, and where I left off wasn't going to necessarily bring the story to them.

So, chapter by chapter, I'm re-doing it. Most of it will be big changes, some not so much. So please, re-enjoy the story and let me know what you think.

And for those of you who have no idea what I'm talking about, read this one! It's better, I promise, and please review!

Thanks!

Life, generally, for me hadn't always seemed to bad. It had been good, just average. Normal family, with hard working parents, best friend with whom I hung out with everyday. A good, promised future ahead which I could predict easily, just as I liked it. But it seemed all that got taken away in just a matter of a few weeks.

Like, for example, the average morning used to be that you'd wake up after a restful night of sleep. You'd go through your normal getting-ready morning routine, then meet the family downstairs for breakfast. The instant aroma of mom's peachy cooking would instantly greet you as you sat down at the table. My dad, as always, would be reading the paper, his leg crossed, ankle on the knee, and he'd drop down the paper for a few seconds to greet you. Linda, my younger sister, would already be scarfing down my mom's cooking, seeing as how she was always the first one up and ready. Finally, my mother would serve you your breakfast and my father's, before sitting down for hers, and the table would be filled with talk of what today's events would be.

Finally, at seven o' clock sharp, my father would stand, kiss his wife, and bid his children goodbye before he left for his successful job in his window sales company, and you'd finish off your morning happily before leaving for school.

Okay, so maybe mornings weren't that perfect, but you get the idea.

Today though, mornings in the William's house were completely different. Now, you'd wake up instantly annoyed, and curse at yourself for not getting a good nights rest. Why? Because yesterday night was just too stressful, and your mind is too full to sleep. You slowly get ready, not bothering too much with your appearance. It's not like it matters anymore, anyway. Sitting at the table to greet you isn't mom's peachy cooking -- oh no, it's the oh-so wonderful silence and awkwardness that greets you, just like a slap in the face. Mom sits at the table, going through her stacks of papers on the messy kitchen table while idly sipping a cup of coffee. Linda goes through the kitchen, stomping around and slamming the cabinets shut before complaining there's no food, then proceeds to storm out. And what about Daddy? Well, he's no where to be found. Why? Because he left, and made it real clear that he's never coming back.

There's no point in saying good morning, my mother simply won't answer. And why should she? Obviously, it's not a good morning, and it's a sure sign that the rest of the day is going to be shitty too.

I can't exactly recall when this all happened, and details seem a bit fuzzy. All I know is that I did nothing to deserve this: no father, a shit home life, no friends, a blurred future. All I had now was the lesson that had forcibly been taught: that nothing is for certain, and you cannot trust anyone.

---

I entered Grant High School that Wednesday morning with nothing on my mind except going home. I wasn't in the mood for school. It was still early in the year, and yet, I was more than ready for it to be over. Call it that made up disease 'Senioritis' but I hated school. Days, especially now, seemed longer than ever.

I was walking down the crowded main hall, my head down, watching my feet as I walked, when I suddenly collided into someone, and hard.

"Sorry," I immediately said as I looked up, expecting to see some angry student. But rather, all I saw was an arm, and as I glanced up some more, my gaze widened.

I had never seen him before; he must have been new. I knew I'd recognize this guy anywhere if he wasn't. He stood probably about six foot three or four, towerous compared to my five foot three height. With the time I had I quickly studied his features; he wasn't real lean and thin, but he wasn't real bulky and fat either, just somewhere in the middle. His hair was mainly a dark brown, with some lighter shades within it. It was long, ending just past his shoulders, and was just barely styled in messy dreadlocks, a look no one in Grant had.

He wore a big black shirt with nothing on it except two thin, white lines that went down the baggy sleeves. He wore faded, baggy old jeans and had big, black converse shoes. His appearance was topped off with a chain wallet, I noticed, a black studded bracelet on his right arm, and a thick pinky ring was worn on his left hand.

The look on his face was what made me quiver, but his features were what made me unable to look away.

He at first glared at me with nothing but hate in his dark eyes. His right eyebrow was pierced and the earring of choice was a thick silver loop with a little ball in the center. His eyes, I noticed, though kind of hard to see because of some stray strands of hair, were a beautiful shade of dark green. His nose seemed in perfect proportion with the rest of his face as did his mouth, and he had a little bit of a stubble on his chin that went all along his jaw line all the way up to where he had some small sideburns.

The look in his eyes finally softened a little, and his face and body relaxed. He then just nodded solemnly at my apology, and continued on down the hall.

I turned and watched him walk away. There was something intriguing about him, but I couldn't quite place my finger on it. In simple terms, I thought he was actually pretty cute; I tended to go for the odd, different guys. But there was a much deeper attraction here, which is what I couldn't understand.

Finally, the hoard of students forced me on, and I proceeded to my locker, just in time, actually.

Standing a few lockers down were my favorite kind of girls; the preppy, 'think-they're-so-much-better-than-you' kind, who had tons of Mommy and Daddy's money. One of them, a tall blond who was wearing a short mini skirt, was leaning on the locker as her friend, a shorter brunette who was chewing gum, loudly, grabbed out books and binders from her locker.

"So, have you seen that new kid yet?" The tall blond asked.

"Yeah, the really tall freak?" Her friend ask. Strangely, I couldn't help but feel a pang of anger go through me. Still though, I stayed quiet as I listened, wanting to know what they'd say.

"Yeah, so apparently he transferred here from some school in Colorado," the tall one began, "after being in jail."

"Jail?" The short one asked. "What for?"

"Murder," the blond said, her eyes widening. "Apparently he killed some kid, then beat up the police officer."

"No way!"

"Yeah! And what's worse is he's been to like, twenty other schools all around because of all the fights he gets into and stuff," the blond was saying. "And Dean told me that he heard that he's–" She leaned in closer as did her friend, "a Devil worshiper," She whispered loud enough for me to still hear.

"Wow," the brunette said. "That's crazy. I don't want someone like that in our school." She slammed her locker shut, and they both started away.

"I know, it's ridiculous the trash they just let into communities, especially ours…"

I should have know better than to trust bimbo's like this, but still, I couldn't help but wonder if any of that was remotely true. But in all seriousness, what high schooler had the guts to actually kill a kid, then beat up a police officer? The schools and fights I could easily see as true, he did seem like a rebel, but still.

I tried to shake off those rumors about the guy as I headed to math. Still though, I couldn't help but think about them all class period.