You might think this is a book about romance, love, betrayal, and so on. Wrong. It's a book about me.

My name is Drucila, but most people just call me Dru. I chose it myself when I was five. My adoptive mother was an alcholic, so was her third husband. Sonny, my adoptive mom, died in a car crash, big suprise, she was drunk when I was seven. Steve, my adoptive father, didn't have a job or money not to mention liquor,he was more agressive sober than drunk. In turn, any time he got mad he hit me two months of his abuse I had enough. When he tried to strike me again I bit him, drawing blood from his left arm and pulling out a large chunk of it. The other arm was lucky more or less, not to mention broken in three places. Steve grew paranoid of me,he took my fangs in consideration and came up with the idea I was demon from Hell sent to collect his soul. Any time I got near him he would whip out a cross.

One day, Anne, my school librarian and only friend, gave me a ride home. Steve had come outside and yelled at her to get away from me, because I was pure evil. Anne called the police and they took him to an asylum. Meanwhile I stayed at Anne's house, it was odd having a bed and food. After a while the cringing stopped along with the flinching I did when she came near me. Anne always let me make my own choices about turning down counciling and seeing a psycholigist, but it only lasted four months before Steve 'recovered'. The nurse said it was okay to visit, and he could take me home, but the exact oppisite happend. Steve and I had dinner together, it was alone so they could prove they trusted him. The moment I walked in the room he when psyco yelling worse trhan ever he picked up a fork and continusly stabbed himself in his left eye, spewing blood every which way,leaving a not so pretty mess. I laughed every stab until I grew as histerical as the patience. Every time the thought came across my mind the histeristy came back. The sick bastard deserved every bit of what he got, exept the roeses on his grave. Anne took sarcastic, slightly crazy, me in. Letus fast forward nine years in the future.

Chapter One

We recentlybmoved so Anne could work at a brand new school, the same school I'm set up to attend, South Haven High. Which isn't a problem. Anne is more like a friend than a mom. she's twenty-six and I'm aproimently sixteen, give or take a week, so there is a solid ten years betwwen usno one could ever mistake us for mother and daughter because of that and the fact we look nothing alike. Anne is about five three with red, curly, hair and green eyes. Were as, I'm five six with brownish-blonde hair, and blue eyes.

"Dru," Anne asked sweetly, "do you wnt ti go to the store with me?"

"No," I sighed heavily,"I have a lot of unpacking to do." That was a huge underement. I had five five whole boxes of books only the necessary titles. Not includinng my six boxes of CDs including: The Beatles the greatested band of all time, Seether, Evanescenes, Falling in Reverse, Black Veil Brides, Lady Gaga, Sara Bareilles, Asking Alexandria, Dany Elfman's geniusness, and much, much, more.

"Don't you need clothes for tomarrow?" she asked. Crap. there was always a catch.

"No, I'll go shopping after school tomarrow."

"Okay... Well, I'm leaveing if you need anything call me. I'll begone for a couple of hours be good and don't burn down the house." Anne tgrabbed her coat and headed to door.

I on the couh a while long and decided to get up from our new cream couch to do something productive. What sucked about tomarrow it was my first day and every one else second or third. that ment playing nice with the other childern and telling them about myself to every one of my classes. I panic whenthere are three or four people are near me when I'm looking at something. So my first day of school was going to be a blast! I chose the first box that was marked "music instument". I am ,what Anne calls, " musically inclined", because i can master almost any instument in about two months or so. In turn I play the flute, piccilo, bass guiter, drums, trumpet, ukulele, and piano. Anne feels like I waste my talents because I refuse to play in public or join band. There is everything unnateral about my talents and I'm a little curious on why I can do what I do, but won't venture to find out exactly what that is.

About three hours latter I had two-thirds of my stuff unloaded. I had to stop before I lost what little sanity I left. My bed was showered in a silvery light given off by the moon. After a couple seconds of looking up I found what looked like an attic door in the middle of my celing. To feed my curiosity I opened it. Up the wrickety steps a room was hidden. The room's walls were lined with book shelfs, there was a lounging couch in front of a dusty window seel, and on the oppisite wall there was a worn mahogony desk with a single book and a present. The book was titled
Works of Edgar Allen Poe on of my favorite short stories was marked in it The Black Cat.

The Black Cat is about a man who loves animals and he has a cat he loves and it's like his child. The man eventually becomes an alcholic. On night the man came home and stabbed the cat's left eye out. A year or two later he hanged it, and felt smug with the idea the black feline was dead. That same night his house caught fire and when he revistited the ruins of his old house the hangged cay was laying on the floor next to his bed, as if somebody threw it throught the window. A couple of months later a new black cat showed up much like the other, but with different markings on its chest and head. the man became atached to the cat, but was still weary of its likeness to the previous one. One day while helping his wife move things into the cellar the cat tripped him, so he became parainoid of its mockery and picked up an ax. the man savagely swang back the rust ax, but his wife tried to stop him. that has only lasted a couple of seconds because he swong the ax into the side of his wife's head. He felt no remorse for killing her only panic about hiding her body. Eventually shse was shoved into the old fire place and bricked in. The police went looking for her and while proving she was not in the cellar the man heard a soft meow in the wall. All of the joy was sucked from him the damn cat was still alive! Incased with his decomposing in the tomb. A lot happend after that, but you get the geust.

After I place a lamp in the room and turned it on you could tell ,without squinting, that the walls were silver and the floors matshed the desk by the wall. I then proceeded to move my books and CDs up to the quaint little room. When it was all over I sat down on the couch in front of the, now clean, window. Gazing around I remembered thr present on the desk. But it was too late to take a peek in the mysterious box, because Anne was pulling into the drive way.

"I'm home where are you?" she called from the stairs. "I got you something."

" Up stairs you absolutly have to see this!" I yelled excited about my new discovery." Come up stairs to my room."

"What is this al about if you want to show my a spider nest say it now before I get in there to knock sense into you."

" Can't you let that go, I was only eight?" I pretended to huff. Anne fallowed me as I climed up the wrickey steps.

"I don't remember the real estate lady telling me about an attic...It looks great almost brand new. Now you have your own library, Dru." she proceeded to look around. "I need to sleep, it's almost eleven. Good night, don't stay up too long we have school in the morning."

I plugged in my CD player and put in The Nighmare Before Cristmas Soundtrack compossed by Dany Elfman. I sat up for about an hour humming along with the beautiful songs and Googling South Haven and looking at its new webside on my laptop. Nothing outstanding has happened to the brand new school that decided to build. He was a major in mythology, literture, and psycology. Other than that and dates of try-outs for multipul sports. After turning off my computer and looked out the window to see something rather odd. A person with wing flying in the moon filled sky. I stepped awayfrom the window not because I couldn't believe, which I couldn't, but in fear I was afraid that I was loosing my little sanity I had. "Time to go to bed, Dru. I draw the line at seeing flying people.

After my usual bed time routine, I flopped in to my bed. It took a whlie to fall asleep considering mystrange surrondings. Finally my paranoia let me rest at one o'clock, only to be awoken five hours later.