Sherbet Mayhem: Hi everybody! Wow, it's been such a long time since I wrote anything for this site! Seriously, it's been around a year since I put anything up! Anyways . . . I'm back, and it's great to be back, among a crowd of . . . gets nervous complete . . . strangers . . . woah, I don't know anyone on this part of the site! Um . . . hello, all you Teen Titans lovers, you . . . hey there . . . ahhhh . . . well, I guess anytime is a good time to meet new people:D Um . . . I don't own Teen Titans . . . although I do plan on becoming Raven one day in the not-too-distant future. Oh, and if anyone notices a sudden drop in my punctuation levels – it's done for a purpose, okay? No one has full stops in their thoughts, lol.

Anyways, I'm off, I'll catch you guys at the end of the chapter – and please, for goodness sake, review me; it makes me feel happy in my heart! Please be honest in reviews – I don't mind criticism as long as it's constructive. I do tend to argue back sometimes, but that makes things fun!

See ya at the bottom – enjoy "Vision".

Chapter One – Sleep Talk.

"There's more to come"

Then black

Always still pictures flashing pounding screaming but never revealing more simply still pictures and this black dark

Again another a boy

Young blond tall attractive

Gone again just like that so quickly hardly had a chance to

Again blue eyes saw him what's happening to him seems happy seems




That's him lying there lying not standing lying on the pavement

Street sign street sign

None so far urban grey raining pavement smells of tarmac wet gardens tarmac



No noise just silence after "There's more to come" just black sound empty noise loud silence


Blood there's blood it's all around the blackness the silence cries tears of blood it fills it drinks it drowns

The rain is the blood

Blood rain blood reign

The boy is the blood I am the blood the blood is all everywhere it dances and shines and shivers it is beautiful taste it

It laughs and breaks my crying silence scratches scratches

Scratch the blood stop the scratch scratch

The boy is dead and I am the blood so wet so wet drip run run wet slink in the silver light

Stop the scratch the blood taste the metal

What is this




What is this

Cyborg lay awake, watching the dull infra-reflection of his red eye casting across the ceiling. It was so bright against the darkness of the expanse of plaster that slept above him. He moved it, controlled it, watched it as it watched him, like a spider, flitting along desperately to avoid the cruel glare of a child's watch as it played along the wall.

He was hungry. He always became hungry if he woke up in the night, but declined to follow the urges of his stomach due to the comfortable groans his legs gave when he tried to move them. The lull of sleep was an inviting one, despite his hunger pangs.

The empty smell of his room calmed his angry stomach, and the gentle snoring of Beast Boy in the room to his left began to sway Cyborg like a lullaby. The Teen Titans had slept easily and heavily of late. The chirpy sound of their communicators alerting them to some new crime or atrocity in the surrounding city area had become little more than a memory. Crime, it seemed, was at an all time low.

Perhaps the Teen Titans had simply done a good job? Perhaps their effective crime fighting skills had acted as a successful deterrent to future criminals? Perhaps would-be felons were learning the error of their ways early enough to stop them attempting any large-scale crime; or small-scale, for that matter. Whatever the reason, the Teen Titans had been blessed with so much free time lately that it seemed criminals had simply been wiped out; exterminated, and would no longer bother them.

"Poor Robin" thought Cyborg with a smile as he rolled over to a more comfortable position, "He's so worried that we'll all be out of a job soon!"

Smirking to himself, his amusement further heightened by the sound of Beast Boy talking in his sleep ("Sure we can go to my room, baby, but be prepared – people say I'm an animal in bed . . ."), Cyborg began to let the gentle silk of sleep wrap around him soothingly, skilfully, till the emptiness of his room swam around him, and he reached the bridge between reality and fantasy . . .

Something began to tear him away from his dreams. A dim mutter at first, almost an incoherent mumble. He dismissed it as Beast Boy and attempted to fold himself back into the silk, but the mumbling grew louder, more frantic, more disturbing. There was a noise of movement amongst sheets, a noise of tossing, turning, writhing. Fear.

Almost reluctantly Cyborg dragged himself from the last fleeting remnants of sleep and sat up, his eyes chasing the darkness of his bedroom. To his left he could hear the usual noise of Beast Boy. To his right . . . what was that?

"Scratching?" he mused, puzzled. He slid off his hard bed, his muscles responding as if in limbo – was this an emergency? Or a false alarm? What was it?

The noises soon evolved into groans, into whimpers. Distress. He could almost smell it. The creak of a bed as someone twisted upon its slender springs . . . he knew the sounds of a nightmare when he heard them. In fact, for a small period of time, when Starfire had first arrived on earth, she had suffered recurrent nightmares about the feared destruction of her planet, which had only happened in her dreams but had scared her thoroughly nonetheless. Cyborg knew how to deal with nightmares.

"Whose room is on my right?" he thought as he headed for the doorway to his own room, his infra red tracking sensors able to guide him through the watery darkness surrounding him, "Is it Robin?"

As he exited his room and turned right to take the few short steps down the dark corridor to the nightmare room, a stifled scream, a choking, dying scream crawled its way into the narrow air. Cyborg stopped short for a second.

"It's Raven"

Robin was sound asleep when the scream jolted him out of his dreams and to his senses. He could feel adrenaline thrusting through his veins as he sprang out of bed with quick, cat-like reactions to the shocking noise. It sounded like someone was being murdered out in the corridor. His cover dropped from around his half naked body to the floor, and he leaped towards his own door, the pressures and responsibilities of being team leader rising to the fore as his courageous nature propelled him forward. He had to make sure his team was all right.

His black mat hair fell into his eyes, now devoid of its usual gel, and he swept it away with a quick jerk of his head. Before he left the room, he swiftly grabbed his mask – no matter how much of a hurry he was in, he would not leave his room without that. As he snapped it across his dark brown eyes, he threw open his door at the sound of frightened footsteps on the corridor outside.

Darkness greeted him, and the sound of commotion off to his right directed his feet as they shivered from the cold of the floor beneath him. The hair on his arms and legs stood on charged end as he ran towards the noise. As he moved, suddenly, a dim light flooded the corridor, and Robin could tell that someone's door was open, and the light had just been switched on.


He heard Cyborg and moved faster. "What's going on?" he yelled as he sprinted down the long corridor. It was Raven's door that was open – he knew this mostly because it was a room everybody avoided. Frowning when he heard no articulate answer, he found himself puzzled by the strange noises coming from the room.


The indigo light from Raven's room spooled around him as he entered its fill, and he squinted as he rounded the corner into her bedroom, attempting to scan the situation with half open eyes. He could vaguely hear Cyborg.

"Cy? What's wrong? Raven?"

As his eyes adjusted, he could feel his pupils constricting to restrain the prying light from his eyes. Things began to swim into focus now – the murky shape of Cyborg, his red eye aglow, Raven's bed, the furniture lying around the room . . .

"Wh . . . what?"

His sight returned to him, Robin stared around at the black walls of Raven's gothic room. Etched into the plaster, at almost every opportunity, were deep red scratch marks, as red as scarlet paint but embedded into the wall, usually in sets of three scratches. Paintings were torn in two, bloodied by these vicious animal markings, the ceiling adorned with them. They did not drip, but merely sat, watching the room. The furniture was unmarked and yet torn and ripped, as thought the paint on the claws of this giant beast had run out. Chipped off plaster littered the floor like black snow, barely visible upon the plum carpet. Cyborg was huddled at Raven's bed, and he glanced over at Robin as he took in the scenery.

"Robin, get over here."

Upon order, Robin darted over to Raven's bed, which lay directly in the centre of the back of the room. The black covers hung off the edges of the mattress in a limp, dead fashion, and as he neared the bed, Robin could see the deep cherry slices in the covers.

"Raven . . ."

He stopped next to Cyborg, and watched for a moment, aghast. His eyes widened in disbelief, and his body shook, whether with fear or cold.

Raven seemed to be asleep. She simply wore a black bra and black shorts, which seemed unharmed by whatever had mauled her bedroom. However, the pale glow of her skin was crawling with slashes of red, which dripped this time, from her nails, from her broken skin. As Robin watched, totally dumbfounded, her hand raised to her face and her long, well kept nails slammed into her cheek, pulling the flesh, gnawing it southwards with the tug of her sleeping hand. Her eyes remained firmly closed.

"Raven, stop!" Robin exclaimed, woken from his amazed stupor by the blood that seeped through her fingers. "Hold her down!" he ordered Cyborg, who complied by grabbing the slim girl's wrists and pinning them to the bed. Immediately she began to writhe, her mouth opening and biting at the heavy air. Cyborg groaned as he tried to keep her pinned down despite her struggles, and from underneath her closed eyelids, he noticed a black glow beginning to throb.

"Her powers! She's gonna use her powers!" he yelled in his thick accent. Robin grabbed her legs and pinioned her to the white mattress, which was spattered with red and pale patterns. Raven's head strained, pulled from side to side as though in the throes of some fever, and her mouth began to utter noises incomprehensible to her two friends. A black energy glowed at her bloodied fingertips, and Cyborg faltered, letting go of her wrists. Suddenly, her back arched manically and she snapped up in bed, an entirely chilling scream escaping from her mouth as her eyelids flicked open to reveal, instead of the white and the pupil, an expanse of bleeding rouge, which leaked from the tear ducts and trailed her face. Robin cried out in fear as her face neared his own, and squinted his eyes tightly. He didn't want to see this. She was bleeding under her eyelids.

Abruptly, the scream ended; no echo, no backlash. And the tension felt by Robin in the girl's slender legs dropped. He was too afraid of what he might see to open his eyes, and so he kept them tightly closed, revelling in the blackness he found behind them. Next to him, Cyborg watched as Raven blinked repeatedly, and, despite the traditionally white section of her eyes remaining bloodied red, her pupils appeared, as lavender as always, yet filled with confusion. Her eyes met Cyborg's.

"What's . . . what's going on?" Raven asked, her voice back to its usual deep tone rather than the terrified, ghoulish screaming of seconds ago. Cyborg sighed, momentarily relieved, and Robin opened his own eyes to look at his friend.

She looked at the two of them briefly before glancing down at her own body, and her face reeled with an expression of horror as she took in the damage. Her hair clung in strands to her face as she gasped for breath, the sight of her own body making her gag.

"I'm . . . what the hell happened?" Raven blurted in panic, her calm voice snapping to a tone of terror as she noticed the destruction of her bedroom. It was ruined, just like her body.

"Raven, you did this," said Cyborg after a momentary pause where the silence clung like shadow. "You did this to yourself when you were sleeping."

Her pale face fell to further ash, and she shook her head. "Impossible. I . . . I couldn't . . ."

Robin wrapped her blanket around her swiftly, gingerly. He noticed she was shivering wildly. His heart pounded with the remains of that adrenaline as he gave his friend a weak smile.

"We'll get you to the infirmary, Raven. Don't worry. We'll take care of you."

As he spoke, an unharmed vase standing on a shelf to Robin's left suddenly exploded, sending tiny shards of ceramic across the floor. Both Robin and Cyborg knew this was a result of Raven's fear leaking out as a force of energy and inhabiting inanimate objects. Her powers were directly linked to her emotions. When her emotions got the better of her, she lost control of her powers. Robin looked back at the slim, shaking teen in the bed. Her gaze still traversed the lengths and curves of her body, torn and damaged; her own doing. Pearl drop tears, a fiery mix of red water fell onto her hands. She was terrified.

"As far as I knew, I was sound asleep," she said through gritted teeth, attempting to keep hold of the reins of her feelings, "How could I . . ."

"Don't worry your head about it girl," said Cyborg with a friendly, comforting smile, "We'll figure it out later. But right now, we gotta take care of you."

Her eyes could not meet theirs. She could only focus upon the ribbons of red lace wrapping her pallid skin, the rivers of leftover thread seeping out of the scratches and heading where gravity pulled them. How pathetic she must look to them! Shivering, snivelling young girl, incapable of helping herself, lying in practically nothing and covered with self inflicted wounds that she didn't remember exacting. How the mighty Raven had fallen.

"I can take care of myself," she said feebly, pushing Robin's hands back from her shoulders, "This is my problem."

"Oh no," Robin shook his head, "That's not going to happen Raven. You need to let us look after you. We need to figure out why you hurt yourself, and wrecked your room, and whether this could happen again. We're your friends – we want to help you."

She forced herself to glance up at Cyborg and Robin, her cheeks burning with suffusion. She was ashamed of her behaviour.

"We want to help," repeated Cyborg gently with a smile. Reluctantly, Raven nodded weakly, wiping a blood tear from her cheek with her shaking hand. She allowed Robin to slip her arm around his shoulder and lift her from her bed, and he cradled her as he walked, almost the hero in a fairytale cradling his princess. Raven doubted that she would go back to sleep tonight.

"Well what was all that about?"

There was a silence as Beast Boy waited for his reply. Eyes dragged the ground heavily as the silence lingered. The four unharmed titans – Robin, Cyborg, Starfire and Beast Boy – had gathered in the main chamber of Titan's Tower to discuss the night's happenings. Beast Boy, the small green changeling, glanced at a nearby digital clock whilst suppressing a yawn.

"Three fifty am"

"Guys, come on. It's late. What happened back there?"

Robin winced at Beast Boy's impatient tone. He didn't quite know how to word the events. He had never seen Raven so helpless. To see her shivering upon her bloodied mattress, with no memory of what had happened, her eyes full of shamed tears – it was a look, Robin had decidedly realised, that she did not suit. The Raven he knew was strong and always in total control. The Raven he knew was self-sufficient in every way, a witty, quietly confident young adult. The Raven he'd seen tonight was a child, lost; frightened. The Raven he'd seen tonight had needs. Had bled.

"Well I guess all of us are searching for an open arm"

"Robin . . ."

Robin glanced up at the pretty Starfire in her lilac nightgown, who watched him curiously. "Please, tell us," she pleaded.

After holding her emerald gaze for a moment, Robin took a breath, and the air tasted stale.

"I really don't know," he said, lowering his eyes, vaguely disappointed in himself for not knowing all the answers. "I heard a scream, ran out into the corridor, saw the light from Raven's room, ran in there, and . . . well . . . her room was ripped apart, covered in these deep red scratches . . . and Raven was on the bed, covered in them too. At first I thought that someone might've attacked her. But-"

"She was doing them to herself," Cyborg interrupted. "She was fast asleep, and tearing herself to shreds."

Beast Boy and Starfire listened intently, Starfire's pointed face displaying expressions of horror at her friend's experience.

"Was it a nightmare?" she asked quietly, addressing both Cyborg and Robin. Cyborg stretched his metal muscles.

"I don't know. Whatever it was, Raven didn't know it was happening. She was fast asleep."

The silence embraced them again, heavy as coffin on soil. Questions milled through the air but no one dared ask.

"Where is she now?" Beast Boy asked tentatively, not liking the weight in the air. Cyborg answered quietly without looking up.

"In the infirmary. Awake."

Again, silence. Discomfort. Worry, awkwardness. Guilt. Intrigue.

Robin shivered. He was only in his boxer shorts, which were thin and offered little heat; and it was a dark, cold night. He stood, moved, to heat himself up. The atmosphere was thick but chilled.

"I'm going to go check on her, and then get some shut eye. You guys can go to bed if you want," his voice still held that authorative tone even when he didn't mean it to. Starfire raised a hand in protest. Her stomach shook with worry for her friend. She and Raven had a particular bond – they often acted like sisters. After their souls had mistakenly been switched by a criminal some time ago, they understood each other more than most realised. Her slight voice, with its odd use of grammar, caused Robin to wait.

"Robin, I would wish to visit the infirmary with you. Perhaps Raven would enjoy the appearance of company so early."

Her smile brought spirit to the puzzled group, but Robin shook his head.

"I need you guys well rested, just in case there's trouble. We're already one Titan down. Get some sleep, all of you. I'll be going to bed soon."

Starfire's pretty Tamaranian face fell a little, but she nodded reluctantly as Cyborg and Beast Boy made a move towards the corridor where so much had happened earlier. She followed suit, wrapping a length of her auburn hair around her long fingers nervously and saying a quick goodnight to Robin, who moved towards the infirmary.

"All of us are searching for an open arm . . ."

She could hear his thoughts. Somehow. She knew what he thought of her. She knew what they thought of her. She knew she was pathetic.

She could see herself in the reflection of the window of the infirmary. She'd asked for the curtains to remain open, and now watched the drops of rain as they caught the glass and fell like tiny memories, leaving their own gingerbread trails to be washed away by more droplets. The November skies fell upon the trees and fields outside brashly, drumming her window as though they were trying to enter.

She could see that Cyborg and Robin had done their best to clean her up. In the almost black window she could see her pale skin standing out through the water trails, now scarred at random by thin snakes of faded blood. Underneath the tips of her nails, however, browning blood remained as a constant memory jogger of what she had done to herself. Her wrists and shins had been bandaged to stem the heavier flow of blood from those more inflicted areas. She'd wrapped her own bandages.

"Well it's a shame how I curl up in the dark"

She resisted the urge to bury her head in her hands. She must've looked so pitiful to them. Whatever had happened to the self-sufficient person she had been so proud of? She knew "they want to help me" but deep down she was well aware that it was all a farce. They put up with her – and she was painfully conscious of the fact that although her admirable telepathic skills were an undoubted asset to the team, she was not really needed for much more than that. Their friendship was not genuine. Even Starfire – whom she spent a lot of time with, only really gained knowledge of meditation from the hours spent together. Nobody knew her, understood her. She knew they thought she was "creepy" – but she had always retained a degree of pride in the fact that they could always rely on her as a strong, self-sufficient person. Now even that was gone. Now she couldn't even take care of herself in her sleep. She had revealed a weakness that she didn't even understand herself. How could she expect their respect anymore?

There was a knock on the door.

She knew – "I know" – that it wasn't real – "I am alone".

The white doorknob twisted.

"I won't be fooled by smiles"

The door opened.

"Not again"

Robin entered the pale grey room with a smile. "Hey Raven."

She watched him with unemotional eyes. "Hi."

He shut the door behind him, the click seeming incredibly loud in the quiet of the room. It wasn't an unpleasant space, to be sure (there was a television, a games console, a shelf full of books and a mini refrigerator for those in recovery), but there was something unnerving about its lifeless grey walls; so pallid and devoid of colour. In her current state, her skin pale from fear and cold and her eyes so lacklustre, Raven seemed to fit in perfectly.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, running a weary hand through his hair, gently pulling at a few handfuls. He waited for the response.

"Tired," she answered, "but due to the fact that I can't sleep, that doesn't surprise me."

Robin smiled again, attempting to bring some brightness to the room. He felt as though he were stepping upon ice about to crack.

"You're being absurd"

He knew that. "It's Raven!" He'd known this girl for years now. Why should he feel uncomfortable or afraid in her presence? They'd always gotten on relatively well, and although they had never taken a particular interest in each other's lives, they knew enough of each other to get along professionally.

He had to get to the bottom of what had happened – Robin was not the sort of person to let matters rest overnight. He wished to discover the answers while the questions were still so fresh in his mind. He was at his sharpest when he was most curious.

"Raven . . ." he began, "do you have any memory at all of what happened to you?"

She blinked.

"Bold" she thought, "I expected him to skip around the subject for a little while"

"Not really. I only remember waking up. And being covered in scratches."

Robin nodded, his mind whirring. "Have you ever suffered from nightmares?"

"Not that I'm aware."

He was out of questions already. "That was quick"

He pulled over a small wooden chair and sat down, his arms and chest covered in goosebumps from the chilly night air. A glance at the pelted window told him the rain still hammered outside, and he could hear, if he listened hard enough, the wind chasing its own tail around the tower they lived in.

There was a short silence. Robin had run out of questions, and Raven did not have any information to give. She genuinely regretted that. She wouldn't be so frightened of what had happened to her if she understood it. And she didn't like being afraid.

"So . . ." Robin mumbled, now definitely feeling uncomfortable. This girl's heavy, lifeless gaze followed him and made him feel more bare than he was. "You're going to need sleep eventually."

Her purple eyes narrowed underneath the shadow of her hair. "Not if I can help it."

The look on Robin's face was enough to tell her he was totally incredulous. "You can't stay awake for ever Raven. It's impossible."

"Bet he wouldn't want to sleep if"

"You wanna have my nightmares for me?" she shot back, eyes glinting. "Wake up covered in your own blood? Try it. Then I'm sure you'll have no trouble getting back to sleep afterwards."

Sarcasm. Robin sighed, admitting to himself that she did have a point. Yet he also knew she really couldn't stay awake forever.

"If you go back to sleep, maybe we could figure out what's doing this to you, and-"


He fell silent at her raised voice, surprisingly strong for somebody in such a weak position. Despite being physically helpless, Raven was still totally in control of her mind. He admired that – and didn't want to leave her yet. Robin felt tired, but wanted to stay with her; make sure she was all right.

"The red's all gone from your eyes now, Raven," he said tentatively, hoping to earn a response. She glanced at him, but made no reply. Just those eyes, which, although the white had returned to highlight the lavender, were still so painfully listless that it made Robin feel unhappy just to look into them. Raven looked away, towards the window, and watched the rain collide angrily with the glass.



Raven's eyebrows furrowed as she seemed to concentrate on the water dripping down the glass. "Just go. Get away."

Robin was about to reply when the television on the nearby cabinet flickered on. He caught a glimpse of the black telekinetic glow about Raven's pale hands as it disappeared, and then rematerialised to change the channel. She kept the volume low, and flicked channels every few seconds.

"It's almost like you can't stay still, Raven."

She frowned at his remark. "If they're kept moving, thoughts don't wander to where they shouldn't go."

Robin raised an eyebrow, sceptical. "They never face their source, their reason."

"They never manifest."

"They never develop, blossom."

"They never hurt me!"

The wind growled and threw itself at the window as her voice raised, and Raven forced herself to calm down quickly. Robin's brown eyes flashed momentary defeat, and despite the television's hum, the room was cemented in silence once more. It lay heavy, and her thoughts began to tread unholy ground.

"I will NOT think about it I won't allow my thoughts to control me


Blood rain

Taste it

The boy is the blood I am the blood

Young blond tall attractive

There's more to come"

Raven gasped and snapped open her eyes. "I didn't sleep."

Robin looked over from his solitary chair, his hair falling sleepily into his eyes for the second time that night. "No, you didn't."

He grew suspicious at her almost frightened expression.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Raven sighed, her breath shaky and weak to her own ears. "You couldn't catch them."

He smiled, and Raven was fleetingly comforted by his presence. Despite all she'd thought (and how was she to trust her thoughts?) she was glad she was not completely alone at this point.

Her violet gaze shifted out of focus, and she found it again on the television screen. The dim voice of a middle aged newsreader churned out from the side speakers, and began to lay itself over the silence of the room in Raven's mind. She followed the man's lips, her eyes flashing. Her wayward thoughts dragged her body to move, to crawl forward, closer to the man. She couldn't hear Robin's pleas to rest, to stay still, but crawled to the edge of the bed, eyes of cold, blind sweat clinging to her body. The man spoke on, his lips moving, her mind not hearing but merely watching.

"The lips what is he saying

He knows"

The image changed, and her mind longed for the lips. They left her, and the screen displayed what she knew would come.

"Young blond tall attractive"

He lay on the image, wrapped in its edges and gloss. She wished, that from his position on the pavement, he could drag himself behind the thick, bold letters of the headline to hide himself from her sight. She willed him to move, desperately, longed again for the nameless, unrecognisable lips. But only saw the boy and the blood.

"Robin," she whispered, her voice low and hoarse. "It's him. The boy."

Robin, as Raven had crawled, had moved closer to her, perhaps in some frail attempt to stop her path. Yet her focus had spoken to him, ordered him not to touch her. To let her see.

"It's who, Raven?" he said gently, glancing at the screen. The report was a late night bulletin. The headlines read "Boy, 17, mauled at local zoo."

With a frown as the pieces began to fit in his mind, forming a vague image of his own, Robin glanced back at Raven, noting the scratches on her body, noting the treble form marks and bloodied bandages. He gathered his thoughts messily.

"Did you . . . did you see him?"

Raven's mouth fell slightly ajar as she nodded weakly. Her barriers crashed down as her thoughts danced wickedly, their voices grinning and flirting with her.

"it fills it drinks it drowns

The boy is dead I am the blood"

"I was there," she said, her voice trembling now to both Robin and herself. "Somehow. Maybe not physically. I . . . saw this image. I knew him . . ."

Outside, the rain hammered harder. It scratched the window panes in treble form marks.

"I knew him and it nearly killed me."

"There's more to come"

Sherbet Mayhem: Well, I REALLY hope you guys liked chapter one! I'm writing at 01:36 in the morning, as I am jetlagged from Florida (I just got back) and so my body believes it is actually 08:36 in the evening! Lol! Well, I'd really appreciate some reviews – that would be lovely! The writing on the Teen Titan section of fanfiction really seems of a pretty high standard and so I hope this meets people's expectations. I should update soon – I'm not too slow an updater, and I love to write late at night – it's when I'm at my best! To give credit where credit is due, I used some lyrics from Blindside's album "About a Burning Fire" ("All of us are searching for an open arm – well it's a shame how I curl up in the dark") and then used a single phrase from "The Great Depression" ("You must be bleeding under your eyelids tonight"). But that's all.

By the way – this story is not only going to get heavy, but pretty dirty too. If you've read any of my previous stuff, you'll know how I love to torture people in my stories (I only hurt the ones I love, lol) and so you can expect some rough situations ahead for the Titans. I can't wait to hear from you guys! Please review soon, and I'll catch up to you in chapter 2!

God bless and thanks for reading

Love Sherby