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The witching hour is the time of day/night that the most tragedies and deaths happen.
But no one really believes in that crap. Right?
Outside




Ever since I was old enough to count, my parents never let me out of the house. There are bars on the outside of every window, and all the doors have five locks. I have never attended school, or met anyone other than family. I was born with blonde hair, but being inside so long has turned it dark brown. My veins show through my skin. I'm 16 years old.
I sit in my room all day. It consists of a tv, but no cable. A computer, with no internet, a bed, dresser, and educational books like the encyclopedia or dictionary. Occasionally I get to play with dolls.
I am only allowed to eat homemade meals, which is not every night. And if I do something wrong in my father's eyes, I get beatings. I hate it here.
But on this night in particular, I will be getting out. To the outside. We have an alarm, and I have never been allowed to know what the code is. My parents feared me using it to get out of the house. Little do they know, they're really bad at not letting me see the pad when they type in the key. 0702 is the code. What I have to do is simple: put in the code, and unlock the back door to escape. If I get a stepping stool, I can easily reach the top lock, and I'm set to go.
I walk out to the family room, not a person in sight, however the tv has been left on, lighting the room. I see my parents' bedroom door is open, and so I walk into their room. It's nearly pitch black, but I grab my mother's large beige tote bag, and waltz into the bathroom, closing the door and flipping on the light, I search the bathroom to find a little green box beside the toilet. It's filled with money. $400 exactly. I grab it, turn off the light, open the door ever so quietly, and bring the bag with me into the family room, closing the bedroom door. I stuff the money in a pocket on the inside of the bag, and head to my bedroom, where I push clothing into the bag, along with a hairbrush, and a small notebook that I write in as a journal. I make my way into the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge, putting what I can into the bag, and I think I'm set.
I walk up to the alarm and press my clammy fingertips to the small padded buttons. 0-7-0-2 "System disarmed". I freeze. I hear rustling coming from my parents' bedroom. I can feel the sweat forming on my forehead. Nothing. I walk back to the back door, and unlock four of the five locks, careful as to not make a sound. I grab a foot stool, and climb up, undo the last lock and return the stool. Freedom.
I slide the door open, tote on shoulder, and slip outside. It's cool. Cold. Really cold. I stand there and stare outside. Should I really do this? What will they think of me? Will they find me? Will I ever see them again? No clue. But the trees are screaming at me to come to them. I've already come this far. Why not?
I walk slowly, feeling the earth and grass beneath my feet for the first time. It's exciting, and I can feel it building inside me- and I begin to run. Through the trees I run, elegantly, for I fear falling and hurting myself.
I'm running for about 3 minutes before I lose the ability. Now I gasp for air, stumbling out of the trees and onto the side of a highway. There aren't many cars. I stick out my thumb as I walk down the highway. After some time, a car slows down, a young man leans out the window.
"Need a ride, ma'am?"
"I would appreciate it." I'm shaking.
"Hop in, ma'am."
I crawl into the small vehicle, and get comfortable in the seat.
"Where to, miss?"
"Anywhere away from here." I say as I drift immediately into sleep.

When I wake, I'm lying on a bed, hands and legs tied to bedposts. I look around in panic. There's the man.
"Where am I?" I ask.
"Where no one will find you." He whispers, unbuttoning his pants and walking over.
At that first touch the world goes black.

Grey




The two lay together, tousled in the sheets. He had just drifted into slumber, and she lay awake looking to the ceiling- searching for memories of the past. The smell of sweet love still lingers in the air under the grey moonlight. Neither had ever gone so far before; to the path of no return. The deed is done.
"He doesn't handle his emotions well"- say the scars up and down his arms.
"She doesn't eat quite enough"- scream her semi-sunken cheeks.
Young and imperfect love fills these teenagers. The deed has been done.
In the dim glow of the moon through the window, she turns her cold face toward the boy. The moonlight shimmers off of his silk skin. She admires every aspect of him. The world around her grey- and yet despite the melancholy setting; though her face betrays her, she feels what she believes may be love. She looks in awe at the scars on his arms. Traces every outline of his face, and thinks back to the time she searches for.
It's a cold and gloomy day near the end of October nearly two years previous. She stands in the middle of festival games and rides. The clouds shade everything in grey. Everyone seems delighted except for her. She stands alone in her size 0 jeans and an overly sized jacket to hide the shame of her body. She looks at the ground around her, glancing up every once in a while to see the unfamiliar faces multiply. She kicks at the dirt under her shoes, drowning out the sounds of people. Everything seeming to move in slow motion around her. Just her. Her thoughts. And the dirt. It takes the girl a moment to notice that a pair of worn shoes are in place in front of her. Time speeds back up as she realizes a person is standing before her.
The boy looks at the girl, and the girl looks back. Nothing is said, yet the girl knows that there's something about him that attracts her. She steps closer.
"Surely someone beautiful as you isn't here alone." inside she flinches at the words he speaks. He looks her in the eye, to which she looks away. Stays silent.
"You know, you don't have to be alone now. Lets get ice cream together." He suggests in more of a statement than a question. She nods and he motions for her to follow him.
She takes the sight of him in before following- Having no clue that the boy will have such an impact on her life. not knowing that in time- she will get to experience love. Make love. See what others may never see and what's underneath those clothes. What's underneath the flesh- and the nature of his calm heart; his secrets and how he longs for a blade. She follows, changing her life forever.
A by with a knack for pain and a girl who doesn't eat enough lay together, stripped of clothing, in bed. She looks over at the boy who has fallen into slumber and thinks of when he saved her life- and she saved his.
She turns over, skin to skin with the boy; and suddenly the world isn't so grey anymore.

Phoebe




The man raises himself in his bed bed come morning. The light shines through the translucent curtains on the window. He sits up and shifts himself out of bed. Slowly lifts himself and wobbled over to the mirror in his bathroom. He stares down the face, aged along with the wallpaper of the bathroom. He stands for near a minute, before turning around, accomplishing nothing, and drags himself to the kitchen. He grips a coffee mug from the sink, turns on his coffee maker. A girl on his mind.
He leaves his home, drives to the nearby high school. He is a teacher- English. He sits through boring class after class, sitting watching the students- watching the sleep seep into their eyes. Some whisper to each other. Some write notes. Gossip. Others study. Others fall asleep. He gives an uneventful lecture. A girl on his mind.
He drives to the nearby cafe. Orders himself a hot tea and salad. He reads a novel for the hundredth time. A Farewell To Arms. No one notices him. He's nothing more than a part of the background. He sits reading his book. A girl on his mind.
He arrives home, and starts a warm bath. He bathes- a slow and and tedious task. The oils drain off of his splotched skin. He dries himself. Grabs a cup of milk. A girl on his mind.
He lays in bed. Stares at the ceiling. Moon shining bright. His cheeks glow with tiny rivers of teardrops that form

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