A/N Hey everyone! This is my second story to post on here, and first to attempt with Left Behind. Please review and let me know what you think! I would really really appreciate it.

Why am I here? God doesn't care about me. He probably isn't even real. Screw this. Screw life. Mark thought to himself as he and his brother sat in the back row of the youth group at their local church, New Hope Village. In order to understand his anger and frustration, you'll have to look at Mark's past.

Mark had grown up in a Christian home. They went to church on Sundays and Wednesdays and every other Friday for prayer. They said their prayers before dinner and read the Bible together in the morning. He had a great life. But all good things must come to an end. His father, Derrick the supposed Christian, had an affair. His parents went through a nasty divorce. His mother, Teresa, eventually won custody of the three children and the house, but Derrick got the car and only had to pay child support for the youngest child (I doubt that would happen in real life but just go with it). So there left Mark. A twelve year old boy left the man of the house. He had to be the father to his younger brother, Jake, and his younger sister, Lucy. Jake was ten and Lucy was just barely one.

This left him angry at the world. He didn't deserve any of this. Fathers are supposed to be there for their children; supportive and proud. Especially since his father was a Christian. What did that even mean? "Christian"? All Mark saw was a man who cheated on his wife and left his family. The word left a bitter taste in his mouth now. Sure his mother was still a wonderful Christian woman. She walked the walk instead of just talking about it. But, Mark was still hurt enough to hate everything to do with Christianity and their God.

Mark is sixteen now. It had been four hard years since the divorce. Once he turned fifteen he had picked up a job to try and help support his family. His mom worked full time now so when he wasn't working he had to watch Lucy. Jake was fourteen and turning out to be as stubborn and hard headed as Mark. Teresa knew her sons were angry, but hoped church could help. Every Sunday and Wednesday she packed up the family and went to church. The two boys didn't mind Sunday because they were in with the adults. Still church, but not as bad. They however despised Wednesday nights. The youth group was filled with self-righteous better-than-thou teens. They were more concerned with the latest fashion trend and who was dating who than the whole reason they were there. Or at least that's how it seemed to Mark and Jake. Only God knows the heart.

So there they sat. The pews were padded with thick red padding. Chattering teens filled the small room. They had a side room off of the sanctuary just for the youth group. On the stage was a variety of instruments and microphones. Behind the stage was a backdrop picturing a teen bowing before a cross. The other three walls were covered in pictures of different events and teens who had graduated from youth group. The group was called, "Alive". Their motto was, "Living a life that glorifies the Risen King".

Mark and Jake sat alone. They didn't talk to anyone but the occasional whisper to each other. The talking of everyone else died down as a young adult walked on stage. He was wearing Toms, skinny jeans, and a V-neck. He had dark brown hair and a slight goatee. He had a guitar in his hands with the black strap snaking up his shoulder and around his neck. He walked to the center of the stage and stood behind a microphone.

"Hey guys! Welcome to Alive! I'm Greg, the worship leader for Alive. If you haven't met that's a shame. Come talk to me afterwards and introduce yourself." Greg joked. Laughter rippled through the crowd.

Other members of the band walked up onto stage. There was a drummer, a pianist, a bassist, and several other singers. "Why don't we all stand up so we can begin to worship our King?" Greg said as everyone stood up in their spots. Mark and Jake slowly stood up. This was their least favorite part of the night. Mark had always loved music and could play several instruments as well as sing, but he just didn't like this worshipping a God that he didn't even know existed or not.

Greg started to strum his guitar and right as he opened his mouth to start to sing he disappeared. A scream rose to Mark's lips. Below where he stood was a neatly folded pile of clothes. Mark looked around to see many others had disappeared leaving the piles of clothing in their place. In fact, the two brothers were only two of five teens left out of the whole room. The band was gone. The pastor was gone. Most of the kids were gone. Mark finally let the scream escape his lips. Jake quickly followed in Mark's example as they observed their surroundings. They had no idea what it could possibly be.

Mark rushed into the main sanctuary to look for his mom. He found the same thing there. There were a few stragglers, but the majority of the congregation had disappeared with the only trace of their existence being the neatly folded stack of clothes. Jake fell to the ground in tears.

"Wh…What? Ho…How?" He asked as he rocked back and forth trying to figure out what had just happened. Mark ran out of the sanctuary towards the nursery looking for Lucy. He saw one volunteer leaning against the wall as if in a daze. The other volunteers and all the children were gone. Mark finally succumbed to the tears that had threatened to overtake him. He fell to the ground weeping. What is going on?

A/N What do you guys think? It's short, but it sets the story. Please review!