When I wake in the morning, the sun isn't even all the way up. Why must I always wake up so early?

I take a look at where I am. The white room with wooden floors. I'm laying in a bed with a purple bedspread. I wasn't dreaming. This is real. The whole thing.

Dang it.

Well, at least my new friend is real. What was his name? Caylen.

I close my eyes, but they just want to open again. I can't get back to sleep, no matter how much I try.

After laying still for a second, I realize my head has a dull ache. What am I supposed to do for entertainment around here? Am I even allowed to use the computer on the desk, or is it just used for detective purposes?

Maybe I should run. Not run away, but like Jill and I would run. To keep in shape as well as give us something to do. And avoid people. Don't forget that.

I dig in my suitcase for my running shorts, and after putting them on, I search the desk drawers for sticky notes, or piece of paper, or something. I find some tape, a notebook, and a pen. So I tear out a sheet, and write:

Went for a jog. Be back soon. -Natalie

I use some tape to stick it to the outside of my bedroom door. When I've made my way to the front of the house, I expect some sort of alarm to go off once I step outside. But thankfully, it doesn't happen.

When the cool fresh air touches my face, I think, I could run away from all of this. But then I think, Nah, better not. Besides, Caylen was so happy to have me here. I can't just leave. And it wouldn't be easy, anyway.

By now I'm jogging down the street, away from the little park. My new home is on the other side of town than the orphanage. But I'm not going back. I, Natalie Cace, am a chicken.

If I keep going this way, I'll leave town, and end up at the lake soon after. I think that's what I'll do.

Wow, I think. I'm going to get The Red! I'm going to put them in their place. They will pay for their crimes! They will pay for murdering my parents, and numerous others. But.... What can I, a little sixteen-year-old girl, do to them? I just admitted that I'm a chicken.

You'll think of something, my mind tells me. No matter what, they are going to get caught. I won't let them get away with any of it. Not after all they've done.

I wonder how Jill is taking my absence. Is she bored? Or maybe not bored? Is she sad? Or has she moved on? I wonder what Cathy told her. I wonder if I'll have the guts to ever see her again.

My mind moves on to other worries. School. Public school. I don't know anybody! Caylen's not even in my grade. What am I going to do?

Okay, Natalie. Relax. I'm going to be fine. I'm not the only new kid in existence.

About a half a mile away from the lake, past a wall of bushes, there is a creek that's connected to the lake. I've only been there once, a long time ago, but I remember a trail cutting through the woods that ends by the creek. I ought to go there.

I wonder how Preston is. Does he miss me? He might. He wasn't exactly a cool kid back at the orphanage. Donovan was the cool kid, because he was the oldest one who wasn't a total nerd, even though I find Preston's knowledge very cool. Liam was the one who bugged everybody, but if he went to public school, he'd probably be the most popular in his grade, getting on the teacher's nerves and such.

Does Cathy miss me? Maybe I'm overreacting and none of them miss me. That would actually be the best thing to believe; maybe I wouldn't be so bothered.

I almost trip over something before regaining my balance. Looking down, I see that my shoe is untied. As I bend down to tie it, I swear I see something move out of the corner of my eye. It's not unlikely; these woods are popular for hiking. But this early in the morning? On a weekday? That's kind of unlikely. Who knows? Maybe it was a squirrel.

I continue running until I see the trail, and then I step onto it and continue in the way that it travels. Up ahead, I can see the creek. Maybe it's not considered a creek. It's a little larger that a creek, but smaller than a river.

Criver. That's what my parents joked about that one time we went.

Only I can see the that the trail does not stop at this "criver". There is a wooden bridge, making it possible for people to cross to the other side. It looks fairly new; the pinewood looks as if it was just cut.

I slow as I get closer to the bridge. Once I'm near it, I begin walking across it. There's a small railing. It goes up to my hips but no higher. Well that's kind of dangerous, I think. But it must keep the children safe.

I put my hands on the railing and look at the roaring water of the creek. The early morning sun makes the roaring water sparkle. The current looks pretty strong, and the rain from last week has made the creek deep enough to lap the wood and splash my shoes as it crashes over a fairly large rock right below the bridge.

Out of nowhere, something is on my back. It's pushing me, and I'm tumbling over the side of the bridge, failing my attempts to grasp at it.

My right arm slams into the large rock, and I feel it cutting my skin.

The water - it's so cold.

The current is trying to push me away, but the rock is blocking me, although it's hurting my side. I move my arms and try to swim back to shore, but the water is pushing so hard and I end up tumbling under.

Didn't this just happen? Am I seriously drowning again?

Finally. My head comes up. But before I can call for help, the water just attacks my face again, leaving me coughing it up and struggling for air.

I reach as far down as I can and pull a handful of vegetation from the bottom of the creek. I pull handful by handful toward the shore. Toward land.

But I'm not getting far with each handful. About an inch at a time, thanks to the current.

There's no one to help me now. Maybe I'm done for.

But I won't give up. I struggle to reach farther as I grab more of the plants. My muscles are going to hurt tomorrow. Why do I always worry about things that don't even matter when I'm in trouble? Beats me.

Ah ha! I'm about ten feet from shore! A minute or two passes before I see a hand.

I look up and there's a person, knee deep in the creek, holding a hand out. To me.

I grab his hand desperately, and it slowly slips as he pulls me from the water.

Once I'm out, I collapse on my back with my eyes closed, breathing heavily. I open my eyes and I see a pair of dark blue ones. ...I've never seen eyes so blue, and so dark at the same time. They sparkle like the water at the lake. They're so...beautiful.

I look at the owner of these eyes. He's a boy, probably about my age. He has black hair and pale skin. But it's not sickly pale, in fact, it looks perfect. Some people think it's bad to be pale, but I think it's good, because it means your skin is healthy, and not burnt to "perfection".

"Are you okay?" he asks.

"Um," I sit up, and he stands. He's a pretty lanky boy, wearing a navy blue hoodie and dark jeans, soaked to his knees. He's probably freezing because of me. Of course, I'm freezing too. "Yeah," I say, "What just happened?"

He holds his hand out to help me up, and I grab it once again.

"I think you just fell off of a bridge," he says.

"No...no. Something pushed me. I felt it."

He looks concerned. And then his eyes dart to my arm. "Is that okay?"

I look down at my arm, the one that hit the rock. There's a deep gash, about four inches long, and blood is running down to my hand.

"Holy crud," I say, feeling dizzy at the sight of so much blood. "I...."

"Do you-"

"No, no, I'm fine. I'll handle this. Why did you help me?"

"I was walking in the woods, and I saw you drowning. What was I supposed to do?"

"Nothing.... I mean... Thank you."

"No problem." He offers me a small smile. He speaks in a way that sounds exhausted, maybe even sad.

"I'd better get going," I say. It doesn't look like this boy has any way to transport me to a hospital anyway. But, no doubt, I do need medical attention. I think there's a hospital a few blocks down from the new house. I'll have to go there.

"Be careful," he says.

"Thank you," I say it sincerely, looking up into his eyes. I want him to know I'm truly grateful for what he just did for me. "Sorry."

"You've got nothing to be sorry for. Now you'd better hurry; that arm's not going to heal itself.

"Yeah...." I'm not sure how to end this conversation. It's really quite awkward. So I turn around and run down the trail, my arm stinging and dripping blood.

Red blood.