Hello all my lovelies! This is a new story that I will be working on maybe frequently or not so frequently. We'll see how it goes...

All characters belong to Sega except my OCs.

Ch. 1 Second Chance

I've done the best I can
To make them realize
This is my life
I hope they understand
I'm not angry, I'm just saying...
Sometimes goodbye
Is a second chance

-Second Chance by Shinedown

"Are you sure there's nothing else we can do," my father asked my elder grandmother. I was sitting against the door, my ear pressed against the cold wood. I wasn't sure what they were talking about but from the sound of it, I'm positive that it was nothing good.

"They've found you, Dimitri. You know once they spot what they want, there is nothing else left to do," my grandmother's usually warm and soft voice was now grave and solemn. Who were they? Why were they looking for my father? Questions like those swam around my 8 year old head.

"But what about Rosalinda?" At the sound of my name, my ears perked up a bit. Me? Why were they talking about me? What did I have to do with this? Anxiously, I pressed my ear closer against the door.

"Kira will take good care of her."

"How long do I have with my daughter?" My grandmother took a deep sigh. That was a bad sign. Whenever she made any type of solemn noise, it was never good.

"They're coming tonight." Silence coated the room heavily. I could barely hear them breathing. I could still sense the sadness in the air but I hadn't yet figured out who they were. Why did they want my daddy? He hasn't done anything to wrong to anyone. Or at least I don't think he did.

I jumped back away from the door when my father opened it. His jade eyes looked down at me in confusion before a sad smile came upon his face. My father was a handsome man with a charming smile but he didn't look like the man I knew. He looked broken. Whoever they were, it was obvious that they weren't very good people. "Hey there, Angel," my father said as he bent down to pick me up. Without question, I snuggled into his arms, burying my face in his chest. In silence, he helped me put on my coat and shoes before we exited my grandmother's house. Out into the pouring rain we went.

My father let me bounce around in the puddles, smiling at me as I did. Even though I was young, I knew how to keep the mood of any situation light and care free. Besides, I didn't want my daddy to be sad. That was something I'd never dream of or seen. He kept looking back though, watching around for anything that seemed out of the ordinary, I guess. After a couple minutes, we stopped walking for my dad to bend down to my height. "Angel," he said, using my nickname to let me know that he was going to be soft about whatever he was going to say.

"Yes, daddy," I asked before smiling at him. A sad smile grazed his lips at the sight.

"You know I love you, don't you?"

"Of course! And you know I love you too, daddy!" I hugged him softly, causing him to chuckle. He broke out of the hug, putting both hands on my shoulders.

"I want you to do something for me."

"Anything."

"When I tell you to run, I want you to run. Do not look back. Just keep running until you get back to your grandmother's house. Once you get there, she'll give you money and a box. My special box. Now, when you get to aunt Kira's house: open the box. There are pictures and other things in there that I think you might want. But, don't start reading the journal until you feel you're ready to know the truth about what happened to mommy and daddy. Do you understand, Angel?" I nodded.

"Yes, daddy."

"Good girl." A sharp wind blew against us, causing my dad's sad smile to fall even more. "Listen to me, okay? Even though I'm not going to be physically around you anymore, I'll still be with you."

"But where?" He point to my heart.

"In there." The wind blew again but harder and much colder. "I love you, Rosalinda. Never forget that."

"I love you too, daddy. To the moon and back." He smiled, kissing my forehead. Then he took off his necklace that held a cross pendent on it and put it around my neck. He tousled my long pink curls before standing up.

"Run," he said. With that, I took off. My little legs pumped as hard as they could as I ran through the streets of the small town I called home at the time. I tried not to look back but my stupid youthful curiosity got the best of me, causing me to turn my head slightly. A glance of beautiful black wings took over my sight before I turned around to watch where I was going.

After that night, I never saw my father again. My grandmother gave me the money and his special box before sending me off to my aunt's apartment in New York City. She took good care of me just as my grandmother had told my father that dreadful night. My aunt gave me everything my heart dreamed of – toys, books, sketchpads, colored pencils, even pastels. Drawing had become my passion as I got older.

The things I drew were never normal though. Most of the time, I drew beautiful black-winged people. They were beautiful in their facials but dark in their auras. Angels as my aunt would try to past them off as. I didn't like the word Angel. Not under anyone else's voices. They didn't say it like my father did nor could they ever say it like my father could. On the inside, I knew these people I drew were not angels but yet something much more powerful. Something that was not divine in any way possible. Some of my books suggested the idea of fallen angels but still that didn't morph well with me. These things were not angels nor had they ever been. Unless they were Satan's angels. But what would the devil want with my father? And my mother?

Ah, my mother. I never really knew her since she was taken away by the same force that had taken my father a year or two after I was born. I could tell from the way my dad talked about her that she was a very beautiful and wonderful person. When I opened the box that my father gave me, there were pictures of her in there. She was a splitting image of me despite her golden eyes and blond hair. We both had the same wide eye shape, long curls, naturally plump red lips, and high cheekbones. As I grew older, I saw that I carried her body shape as well. Tons of curves from my perky chest to my thick thighs but in a graceful way. She had been a dancer back in her day so I guess that's where the graceful portion came from. She was beautiful. Sometimes I would talk to her pictures as if I were talking to her. Although I never knew her, she knew me. I could just tell that she did.

I have yet to read my father's journal. That's the only object in the box that I haven't examined. It just sat there in its suspicious glory. I wanted to read it but I knew in the back of my mind that I wasn't ready to know yet. I was waiting for some type of pull that would bring me to the conclusion that I absolutely had to read it. Until then, the book would wait right where it sat.

Even though the secrets my father kept have not yet been unraveled, I myself have changed. I'm not the innocent little girl who loved to put on dresses and flounce around as if I was some type of princess. That me was long gone. From the moment I arrived to New York City, I became Emo or Goth. Choose your choice of label. I don't care. Black became my new favorite color as was I obsessed with getting three holes in my earlobe and my cartilage pierced. Of course, my aunt let me do it but she wasn't too happy about it. As time went on, I went into the dark eye makeup and always having my nails painted black. Once, I asked her if I could dye my hair black but she denied. It was the only request that she didn't follow through with. I'm not sure why since a change in my hair color would do the both of us some good. Whoever they were, I knew they would come for me next. My aunt didn't move to one of the busiest cities in the world for nothing. I wasn't stupid either. My family knew they were coming for my father so they needed somewhere to put me. I wouldn't be easy to find in a city so crowded and busy.

I was easy to find anyway considering that I was an outsider at my school. Most people were turned off by my dark eye shadow, black frosted lips, and my all black attire. I honestly didn't give three shits nor would I ever give three shits if I wanted to. This was who I was now and whoever didn't like it could go suck on a dick. That's another thing about me as well: I didn't take shit from anyone. I don't care who you are, you mess with me then you're getting a black eye and a broken rib. My aunt had followed my request to take self-defense lessons as well as karate and some type of mat wrestling. I can't remember what the Chinese word it was named. She knew that I would need it sooner or later to defend myself against these people. If they even were people. That little glance of black wings always stuck in the back of my head. Whoever they were, they weren't human.

I'd done tons of research on winged creatures but nothing ever fit suit with me. Most people thought I was crazy for always drawing these things and talking about them. There was only one person who didn't mind my wild obsession. My best friend, Cody. He was a Goth/Emo as well. We became friends because he pushed me off the swings and I pushed him back when I got up. A weird way to meet a friend yes but I was grateful to have him. He was the only one aside from my aunt who didn't look at me as if I had three heads. He understood that I had more likely been traumatized by both my parents being taken away from me in the strangest ways since he himself had lost his parents as well. He was living with his sister who loved me to death. It was odd but whatever.

I guess this part of the story starts when I was walking home from school one day. I always enjoyed long walks with my heavy metal groups pounding through my ears. At that moment, "I'm Not Okay" by My Chemical Romance was blasting through my eardrums as I walked down the busy street. At first, I was too absorbed in my music to notice the figure in the black hoodie following me. It didn't really help that this street was filled with people at the moment so the person didn't stand out as a stalker in the beginning. It was when I started to take different turns and shortcuts that I noticed he was keeping up with me. A normal girl's natural reaction was to get scared and run like an idiot. Not me. I'm not normal. Instead, I gained a little bit of speed to see what the figure behind me would do. As expected, he picked up the pace as well. That proved everything in my head. He was following me.

Slowly, I kept gaining speed. The figures copied my acceleration, closing the distance between us. Having had enough of this little game, I took off through the crowd. People shot me glares and yelled at me as I weaved through them. Screw them too. I'd like to see them have some type of figure following them and see what they do. I'd bet that they would have been running a long while back. I'm surprised that from all I've witnessed from my mother's and father's disappearances that I didn't immediately take off when I first saw him. That would have been smart too but yet I couldn't bring myself to do it. For all I knew at first, he might have just been a normal person walking.

When I turned around to see if the figure was still following, my body collided into that of another person's. The figure was gone, thank god. I looked up at the person I bumped into, my eyes only catching on his ice blue eyes. "Watch where you're going," he snapped at me, his Hispanic accent strong but smooth.

"Fuck you," I said, pushing around him so that I could continue my way home. Stupid asshole. Some people in this city are just begging for a punch in the nose, I swear. I walked into the apartment to see my aunt standing in the kitchen cooking dinner. She looked over at me with her jade green eyes, her red hair swinging with the movement of her head. "Hey auntie," I greeted her. My aunt was a young woman, only late twenties. She was beautiful though. Nice skinny figure, strong but fascinating facial features and a caring heart even though she did have a mean temper.

"Hey Rosy. I'm cooking barbecue shrimp for dinner, how does that sound?" I forgot to mention that my aunt has this odd obsession with making food contraptions. Most of the time they were delicious but on an occasion, we'd just have to order out because things didn't work out so well.

"Yum," I said before walking off to my room. As soon as I stepped into the room, a sudden urge came over me. Draw. I needed to draw. I dropped my book bag on the ground and grabbed the nearest sketchpad and pencil. I sat down at my desk, instantly sketching the image that had popped into my head.

It was a boy. A beautiful boy with big luscious black wings. I didn't know who he was or why this image of him popped into my head but for some reason, I had a feeling that he had something to do with them. I worked on the drawing for hours, only stopping once to eat dinner. My school didn't believe in homework – thank goodness – so I had almost all the time in the world to get done with my drawing. Once I was finished, I date it and put it in my folder with all the other black winged people I'd drawn. Auntie never questioned my obsession with drawing them but she did look a little worried whenever she saw me working on one of those kinds of pictures. Something was trying to send me a message but I just couldn't decode it. Not yet anyway.

The next day in school as I was chatting with Cody as we walked into homeroom, I saw a group of girls surrounding a particular desk. "Looks like the whores have found themselves a new toy," Cody said with his strong New York accent as he flipped his blond bang out his face. I laughed.

"I wonder what he looks like."

"I take it as a dark haired surfer boy with the most amazing green eyes," Cody said in a fake high pitched voice to make me laugh.

"More than likely." We sat down in our seats as the teacher came in, causing all the girls to scatter up to her. Ms. Smith sighed as the girls pleaded to her about something. I would eavesdrop but I couldn't bring myself to give a fuck.

"Do you know him?"

"Who," I asked, not looking up from my little sketch of a wing at the corner of my paper.

"The new guy. He's staring at you."

"He needs to get a life."

"I don't know Rosy, it seems a little intense. You sure you didn't run over his cat or something?" I looked up at my best friend, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't even drive. I didn't even go in for my permit test yet." Cody shrugged, crossing his skinny arms as he leaned back in his seat.

"Whatever you say. If he likes you though then it must be one hell of a crush."

"Yea well he's out of luck." Cody raised an eyebrow of his own.

"And why is that?"

"Because I'm married to this little thing called art." Cody chuckled, rolling his eyes.

"If you say so. When are you going to consider dating anyway?" I shrugged.

"When guys stop being douchebags." Cody smirked.

"Too bad that's never going to end."

"More than less likely." I know what you thought you all were thinking. Did Cody like me? Well sorry for all you Team Get Out the Friend-Zone people out there but Cody has not shared one hint of interest in me nor will he ever. Hell he's seen me in nothing but a bra and underwear and still didn't get an erection. We were just that close that we didn't feel any type of romantic attraction towards each other. That summed up less drama for us in the long run so I'm guessing that was good. Besides, Cody was my best friend and I'd hate for anything to ruin that.

"Alright, alright, I'll pick a tour guide for Mr. Delgado," Ms. Smith yelled, getting all the girls to squeal happily. Immediately, my teacher's dark brown eyes went to me from over her glasses. Ah shit. "Rosalinda, would you please be Mr. Delgado's tour guide for this week? He's new here and will need help finding his way around." I wanted to say no so bad but I knew that it wasn't a question. She wanted me to do it just for all those girls to get off her back. They wouldn't fight with me but they would fight with each other if she had chosen one of them. That didn't stop them from shooting glares at me as they walked back over to the new kid who I have yet to see.

"Sure, Ms. Smith," I said in my polite tone which I hardly use except when talking to a teacher or older person.

"Thank you much," Ms. Smith said as she took a seat at her desk. I got up from mine as well.

"Wish me luck," I whispered to Cody.

"Don't forget to invite me to your wedding," he said with a smirk. I flipped him off before turning towards where the group of girls were. The first thing that caught me about the boy was his ice blue eyes. Yes, he must've been the douche I bumped into yesterday but that wasn't what caused me to freeze in my tracks. From his lime green hair that fell into his face a bit to his really tanned skin to his strong jaw, thick eyelashes that outlined his intimidating almond shaped eyes that house his unique irises to his muscular build and the faint scars on his arms. There was no mistake in what I was seeing right then and there.

He was the winged boy I'd drawn in my picture.

So, good? Bad? Meh? Continue? Delete? Tell me what I should do with this! It is going to be a lot different than what I usually write but I am trying to go out the box.

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