Even as a young boy the feeling of being scared used to thrill Avi like no other. By the age of eight he had already worked his way through many of the horror movies his foster parents would keep in the - what they thought were secret parts - of the house.

It was always something to look forward to when he was shoved from one family to another. What new terrors will there be for me to discover?

The scarier the movie the better because they were one of the only things that could distract him from the real horrors in his actual life. He had been in care since he was two after his parents died in a car crash.

The crash had been so terrible that the bodies were said to be unrecognisable. That might seem like an awful event for a young boy to go through but truthfully, Avi didn't really care. Yes they were his parents but he'd never really got to know them. He couldn't miss or feel sorry for strangers.

By the age of sixteen Avi had been in approximately fourteen different foster homes, one for each year. Sometimes he was kicked out for fighting, sometimes he ran away so many times the family gave up on him and sometimes he was removed after the foster carers were caught beating him.

That was his horror story. That was why he fed off the fictional nightmares only films could provide. The weirder the better also. Vampires, werewolves and ghosts were okay but what Avi really revelled in were the monsters.

Strange creatures that couldn't be described in a single word other than freaky. Like Stripe in Gremlins, or Pumpkinhead, or The Thing, that parasitic alien, even The Fly was better than your average vampire.

But not even scary movies could satisfy Avi's longing to be frightened. So he would go out looking for trouble, sneaking into abandoned buildings, or walking through the most dangerous back alley ways at night. People often told him they were surprised he'd lived this long with the amount of dumb stunts he pulled.

One more thing. What Avi also preferred about the movies to his real life, was that in the end the hero usually won. They would be scared out of their wits but would eventually defeat the monster.

Real life wasn't like that. Real life was cruel. It didn't care who was the hero and who was the villain. In real life, bad things happen and no one can do anything to stop it. Like parents being decapitated and burned to a crisp in a car crash. Like a drunk man beating a boy half the size of him for spilling milk on the table. People die. Fights are lost. Evil often wins.

That is just one thing to make clear before the story begins.

Anyway, that's enough of an introduction. If this were a work of fiction the story would most likely begin on a dark and stormy night in a big old house. But this is real life and this is the truth.

It started on a subway.

Yay new story! Updates should be slower on this one but we'll see how it goes :)