When I opened my eyes again, I was staring at the back of a seat, my eyes wide and teary. Sweat ran down my cheeks and soaked the neck of my T-shirt.

Of course; it had only been a memory. My relief didn't change my expression though, tears running down my cheeks, clean now. I had to breathe in deeply for three full minutes as I realised that my breath had hitched during my nightmare and it was a blessing that the old lady beside me was too far into her dream to realise her neighbour had been hyperventilating.

I turned to the window on my left, looking out to the dark sky, making sure not to make any noise as I did so. I couldn't fall asleep again, not after the resurfaced memory had instilled a deep set fear in my chest. I only had to close my eyes to see the mutilated and disfigured bodies of my parents. Twelve years later and I could still remember every small gruesome detail of the beasts work to my deceased mother and father. Which was probably not the best thing for a seventeen year olds' mental strength. I was 'unstable' at times, especially when I had continuously been sent back to the Orphanage from the age of five to fifteen, after which, I'd resigned to a 'black stage' as Mrs Crockford had described it; but I'd call it clinical depression or post-traumatic stress disorder.

Humans were not the nicest of creatures, but they were also not the worst. My mother had once said that there was good and bad in everything, and it had made sense to me after the first rejected adoption. I can't say I blame Mr and Mrs Donivan for taking me back; I had been a six year old girl who could not only play hide and seek to the point of impossible, but also change my features and body.

At this point in my life, I had chosen the most nondescript appearance a human could have; muddy brown eyes, short dark brown hair and a short, but unavoidably pretty stature. I liked to be unnoticed and had adapted well with the less attention I received.

Sighing, I got up from the seat and squeezed past the other two flight passengers on my right and walking down the narrow passage. The toilets were empty and I went into the furthest one, knocking quietly just to be sure I wouldn't be intruding on anyone. Apparently, I wasn't and slipped into the door, closing it and sighing as I bent over the sink and splashed my face with cold water.

Straightening and reaching for a paper towel, I dried my face and looked at my reflection. The muddy brown was nowhere to be seen, two intoxicating golden honey orbs staring back. My hair hadn't kept the habitual brown, instead a starlight powder had seeped through the strands and lengthened to just below my elbows, coiling into natural ringlets. My body had changed as well, curves I had hidden forming and revealing a very different stature from when I had gotten on this plane. An elegantly curved bosom and sinuous hips, complimented with a smaller waist and long, perfect legs and arms, even under the bulky clothing I had chosen to wear, showed. Not many people bothered to look back to a short and less curved person, which was why I liked the form I'd chosen two years ago. I had even conjured up some acne to stand out less.

It had worked, the high school life quiet and uneventful, with rarely anyone paying attention to me. Shutting my eyes, my mind began to burn as I phased into my chosen form, the supple curves reducing, my legs shortening, and my features changing ever so slightly. The starlight ringlets shortening tickled my back and I groaned softly as the burning sensation in my mind deepened.

Opening my eyes again, I grimaced at my changed appearance. Muddy brown eyes; short dark brown locks; short, less curved figure; it was all there. I ruffled the back of my hair out of habit and unlocked the cabin door, finding a short line of males, young and old, waiting outside the door. The worst thing, from my point of view, about humans; they were too easily drawn in by pheromones.

If I was just a little lax in my control of my 'appearance', then it would usually be this way. Another fine point of humans; they were easily dissuaded from the scent. I only had to walk by them, keeping my head low of course, and let my embarrassed thoughts stifle my pheromones. The men, and one woman, in turn and looked away with confused glances, meeting no possible answer as to why they were out of their seats as I slipped past them and went back to my seat.

The woman beside me hadn't woken up and without a thought, I opened the brochure I had received over a week ago. It was very vague, with ancient script in many parts, with a huge title in the centre of the front; Wiccan College. This was where I would be spending the rest of my education. I had apparently already been enrolled in it years before, but this year I was to start there. They had dorms and activities; the brochure pitched an excellent learning environment, and the release from the Orphanage was probably one of its' biggest appeals. Not to mention; it was on a completely different continent. The USA, a place so different from Australia, that I was sure I would be shot two minute standing on their 'independent' soil. The movies and documentaries, not to mention the history books, just added to my apprehensive attitude. Maybe, with a little luck, I wouldn't have to use the subway or train; I'd never used public transport, besides a school bus and taxi, but even then, America was probably very different to Australia. At least the place where I had grown up didn't have guns (that I knew of) and accents I had trouble understanding.

At least I would be able to start over. Maybe, in years to come, I would be able to move back to the place where I had spent the majority of my childhood. Before then, my parents and I had just… drifted. But we had been happy.

The following hours, in which I found it impossible to sleep, were spent in silence. My neighbour had long woke up, relieving me of the snoring, and was reading a paper-back novel. I was too shy to try and strike up conversation, and the lady was too immersed in the novel to pay any attention to me. It was only when the plane began to descend that she put it away after doggy-earring the page and looked past me out the window. I wasn't tired anymore; fatigue had cleared away any remaining weariness and I was clipping in my various seatbelts when the pilots voice announced our decline.

The rest of the plane trip passed in a blur, with myself a little anxious about finally making it to Wiccan College. It was a rational fear; after all, I wasn't sure if this was going to be anything like my old school. It was not near the coast, but in the Apalachian Mountains, in Georgia. Geography wasn't really my strong point and I was glad there was a map on the back, as well as a business card I would show the taxi driver—if I was ever able to hail one. The airport was loud and noisy and after a long stretch of time, I was able to carry my bags and suitcase out the glass doors, breathing in the strange taste unique to Georgia. It was nothing like Australia.

A man was kind enough to whistle for a taxi and I gave him an appreciative smile before giving the card to the driver, who nodded and threw the suitcase and bags in the trunk. I gave the man another smile as we drove by him; it really wasn't so often you met a person kind enough to do that. He only grinned and winked at me. This confused me, but I decided to forget about it and listened to the Italian music pouring out of the radio. It must be on a cassette, I thought and was soothed by the music, as was the driver. I had a personal love for the Italian melodies, among other music. But Italian music made my head feel light and I leant back against the seat, looking out my window as the cars and streets passed, soon to be replaced by some other town and then, mountains and trees. It was quite lonely as we got onto a turnoff, finding a huge iron gate blocking our way.

"Would ya' look at that. Hey, lady; this is your stop. The card did mention a gate, but are you sure ya' wanna' go in there? In the taxi bis', there has been some talk about this place."

I swallowed hard as I looked up to the towers on either side of the steel gates, eerily dark and screened to make it impossible for any normal person to look into. I could see shapes moving around in there and sighed heavily. This only made my nerves get even jittery, but I fought them and won, able to nod my head. "Yes, thank you. It's the address on the card, and this is the only place." I got out of the car and the boot opened, the driver getting out and heaving my suitcase and bags out for me.

He was concerned, "You sure?"

I nodded again, biting my lip and pulling out my wallet, "I'm very grateful to you for bringing me here. I only have these bills, which I exchanged for the US dollars, so here," I handed him a great amount of notes, which was well over the amount I owed him. "Please, accept these and the tip."

He was astounded, stammering out a short 'thanks' as he went back to get in the taxi, but that didn't stop his middle-aged face from looking back to me as he reversed and left. Me Alone.

The air around me was chilly, maybe influenced by my fear, and it took all my will power to take one step forward, my neck craned to look up to the guards' towers. Unsure of what to do, I did the only thing that came to my mind at this point. "Um? Hello?" I called, my timid voice carried up to the dark sentries. There was barely any movement, slight, but still movement. This relieved me and worried me. "I…Is there anyone up there?"