Name: Kiandra Mathers (But most people call her Kia)
Age: 25
Height: 5'9"
Eyes: Emerald green. She's never seen anybody else with the same eyes.
Hair: Jet-black and curly but not frizzy. It goes all the way to her waist because she's never cut it.
Skin: Slightly sunburned but other than that, it's very, very pale she prefers to stay indoors.
Family: All family is dead... you'll find out more later. :)
Personality: A very kind, loving person, but she tries to hide it all with a rough exterior. She tries not to become close to people because she know that if she does, it'll only be more painful when she lose them.
Other: She loves to play guitar and have an amazing singing voice. She writes her own songs and the music to go with them. She wears a pair of silver-rimmed (not real silver) glasses that she's managed to keep a hold on. As well, she has a silver locket with a black geometrical pattern on it. Sadly, it doesn't open. Someone also gave her a sword many years ago that never leaves her side. She's also an avid reader.


I swam and swam with all my might, but I could not escape it. It was faster than me. In an attempt to get away, I dove into the deep, murky water.

As I opened my eyes, I saw something towards the bottom of the sea. A large, stone tower stood in the water. I stopped to gaze at it, realizing my mistake moments too late.

The monster swept me up in its jaws and burst through the surface in a large leap. I braced myself to be crushed, but strangely it never happened.

I opened my scrunched up eyes and looked up at the beast that held me.

It was not a monster, and what held me was not his teeth, but his arms. It was a man; or, at least, half a man. His bare torso, arms, and face were that of a mans but the rest of him was covered in a dark shroud.

I tried twisting around to see what was behind it, but his strong arms held me firm in place. I finally gave up and settled with gazing into his handsome face. Strangely enough, it was vaguely familiar. I knew I had seen it somewhere, I just didn't know where.

He deposited me on a sandy beach after some time. It could have been anywhere from 5 minutes to 5 hours. Before I could thank him for the lift he was gone. Disappeared into the waves. I couldn't make a move to follow him.

As I lay there, with the sun beating down on me, and the water lapping at my feet, I felt happy for the first time in a long time. Slowly, I drifted off to sleep.

(End of Dream)

I groaned and tried to lift my heavy eyelids. They opened a fraction of an inch and stopped. From what I could see, there was a crowd of people surrounding me. Why they were there, I didn't care. All I wanted to do was find that man. But even as I thought of it, the image of his face faded. I tried hard to grab it before it went away forever but I couldn't. It was gone. I sighed deeply.

"She's alive!" came a shout from above me. I tried opening my eyes once again. Much to my delight, they did. A couple of relieved men stood above me, staring straight at me. I sat bolt upright, nearly hitting one of them in the nose, and looked around. Beds were everywhere. There was practically no room to walk around for lack of room. I guessed I was in some kind of hospital. A cross over the door confirmed my thoughts.

As I looked myself over I was surprised to find I was in a clean change of clothes that felt starchy and uncomfortable.

I groaned again. "Where am I?"

A woman dressed in a long, white dress came bustling in with an armful of jars and bottles. "You're in the infirmary." Well, duh.

"No," I said, frustrated. "Where am I? What city, port?"

"Oh," said the woman in realization. She was obviously not the brightest person, but seemed kind enough. "Port Jacobs."

"What country?"

"Jamaica." I breathed a sigh of relief. It was one thing to be in an unfamiliar town, and another to be on an unfamiliar island. Things weren't going entirely well for England and its neighbors. Landing on an enemy island probably wasn't the best idea.

The lady approached me and shooed the men away from my bed. "You're in pretty bad shape," she said. "Might I ask what happened?"

"I don't want to talk about," I grumbled.

I spent much of the next hour trying to explain to the nurse that I really didn't need bandages on my face. The two bright red marks no doubt looked very worrying to her. The scars had been cut into my face 7 years ago, but had never faded. They remained a deep cherry.

One of them was on the left side of my face. It ran straight down from an inch below the corner of my eye and stopped just short of the edge of my chin. The other started at the apple of my right cheek and curved up to my hairline. Each was cut deep, almost to the bone.

When I finally had the lady convinced, she started asking me about the other marks on my body.

"What marks?" I said. She didn't buy it.

I had 2 other cuts. There was a 3 inch one on my upper right thigh that slanted slightly to the left. The other went from the top of my neck on the right side, across my shoulder, to the crease in my elbow.

I had to stay there for two... entire... weeks. I swear it was the worst 2 weeks of my life. The woman's bantering coupled with the pain of my injuries annoyed me to no ends.

In fact, she probably could have let me go a week earlier. But she kept me for longer so that the bill she handed me would be even longer.

"50 shillings?!?" I shouted.

"You stayed here for 2 weeks. Normally it would be 57 shillings, but I gave you a discount." She smiled.

"Wow, aren't I special," I muttered to myself. Now, I had to get a job.