The worst thing about dreams is, eventually, you will have to wake up. Instead of waking up into reality, I woke up into my nightmare.

I instinctively reached for my diary, the only evidence I had that my family ever existed, and the only piece I had left of my mother, besides the cold locket that lay against my chest.

Flipping through the pages of my diary, I saw the changes in my handwriting over the years. How I had used it to pour my soul, and everything that we were, onto it's pages.

I saw the tens of hundreds of times I had written about my lonesomeness or my inability to fit into societies normalities. Though we can look and act human, playing the part is an entire different story. A very impossible story.

"Quinn get your ass out of bed!"

I let a grumble escape my lips. My mistake.

"I heard that! I said get out of bed! You are going to be late!"

Curse Michael and his perfect hearing. I could hear his footsteps thumping down the wooden hallway. Each step growing louder and coming closer. Our neighbors wouldn't like that.

I threw my new diary under my pillow, nearly missing and throwing it onto the floor. Thankfully I didn't miss. I never miss.

If Michael found my diary he would make me burn it, just like all of our family photos. No one could have proof we existed. No one could know about us anymore. No one except the school. The school where we had fake last names and fake student IDs. And that was the very school I was going to be late for.

Just like every morning, Michael came banging into my room, starting with the usual door slam, and following with throwing me out of bed.

"Jesus Christ you are supposed to blend in not act like a fucking drill sergeant!" I huffed.

"Reilly is already up."

"Reilly is already up," I mimicked in a mocking tone. "He gets up at 4 am every day!"

"That's it," he yelled, proceeding to lift up my mattress and tip it backwards, knocking me off onto the floor.

"You're such a douche!" I screamed, kicking him in the shin. I think it hurt me more than it hurt him though.

Sometimes I felt like the middle child of this family. Reilly never gets in trouble and he's always hanging out with Michael. Then there's me. They hate me. Probably because I'm a raging, hormonal, teenage girl.

"Just get up."

"Fine," I grumbled.

So I got up,a nd then I laid back down. He never said how long I had to get up for. Unfortunately, he saw right through my plan, and this time dragged me by my leg to the bathroom.

"Hurry up and shower or we're going to be late."

Grumbling again, I got up from the floor and took a shower. According to humans they have different preferences to where the temperature is "just right". Whatever that means. I usually just like mine scalding hot, but I think that's just a Bloodwing thing.

Finishing my scalding hot shower, I got dressed in my school uniform and left the bathroom, while tying my hair into a messy bun. All the girls at my school wore makeup. They were practically caked in it. I wished I could try it just once, but it would be a waste of our limited money, and it's better not to draw attention to ourselves.

"Hey Quinn, looking sexy as ever today," Reilly grinned as I walked into the kitchen. I rolled my eyes as Michael proceeded to kick Reilly in the shin.

"Look at that ass though," he whispered, as I walked to the sink. I turned around and threw him my famous red eyed glare, ready to smack his head. Michael nearly spit out his drink.

"Quinn no! You know we aren't supposed to do that!"

"What? We never even act like ourselves and I'm sick of it! I'm sick of pretending to be a human when we aren't!"

"Keep your voice down! They could be listening!"

"As if," I fumed. "We haven't seen an executioner in over two years! We're so goddamn boring they probably gave up months ago!"

Even though I said that, I couldn't help but imagine someone breaking through the door right now to attack us, to kill us, or even worse, to drag us away to dissect us. But nothing of the sort happened. I just stood there, trying to calm myself down, as I felt the blood in my veins boiling.

"Quinn, are you even listening to me?!" Michael yelled, as Reilly looked at me sympathetically. That was the first time in a while he'd ever looked at me nicely other than to ogle at me.

"Yeah, sorry," I breathed, still trying to calm myself down, "I should get going."

"Don't you want to walk with us. We should stick to–"

I grabbed my backpack, slamming the door closed as I left. I didn't need breakfast - it wouldn't have been meat anyways - and I didn't need to hear another one of Michael's lectures while Reilly just stared. Reilly was the master of staring and sitting quietly.

The chilly Boston air greeted me as I left our rundown apartment building. I missed the smell of fresh air. Here it smelled of gasoline and smoke. No matter how long they would force me to live here, I will never forget the fresh, free smell of a forest.

Walking down the streets of Boston wasn't usually bad, except for the few occasional dirty looks some gave you, but today it seemed like everyone was staring. Everyone's eyes trailed me. Blue eyes, brown eyes, even green eyes, but never a familiar pair of red ones.

Suddenly I became very worried. The thought that my cover may have slipped met my mind and I panicked, grabbing my phone to see my reflection. I nearly dropped my phone in haste, but thankfully I was able to catch it.

My eyes were not red. They were their usual brown. I sighed in relief, but looked again at my hair, tucking any loose strands behind my ear. I should have gone with a tight bun today, not a messy one. Nothing about me screamed Bloodwing, but I was still worried. I was turning into Michael.

I pretended to look at my phone, just like any other teenager would, but I never received any text messages, so I didn't know how authentic it would look. It was only a burner. Capable of texting and calling, but nothing more. It was just one of the many precautionary measures Michael assured we take.

Having enough of the stares, I decided to text Michael, actually using the phone for what felt like the first time.

"You're just paranoid," he responded.

"Really?" I texted back, "I'm the paranoid one?"

Michael didn't even bother answering again. He's a douche like that. I turned my phone off, but still held it up, using it as a reflection to look at my blind spots.

A tall man in all black stood a few feet behind me. I'd seen the same man yesterday, and maybe even the day before. I'd thought it was a coincidence, I thought maybe he was just commuting, but how often do you see the same person, right behind you, three days in a row?

Never.

Turning on my phone, I texted Michael, "I think I'm being followed."

"By a man in black?" Michael replied, almost immediately.

My eyes widened and I nearly stopped walking. I forced my wobbly legs to keep going. School was only three more blocks, but I was worried I wouldn't make it there alive.

Come on Quinn, just three more short blocks. Move those legs. Imagine you're flying.

"Yes! Michael plz hurry!" I texted frantically.

The man was getting closer. He was nearly breathing down my neck now.

"Hurry!" I texted again.

"I'm here," Michael said aloud, running to catch up with me.

I wrapped my arms around him and buried my face in his chest before I realized what I was doing.

"Quinn it's okay," Michael whispered. "He's gone."

"He's gone?!" I whisper yelled. "He was here only a few seconds ago!"

"Listen Quinn, I know you probably have friends here, but–"

"I don't have any friends," I interrupted.

"Oh okay. That will make this a lot easier."

We continued walking along. I looked back every so often to see if the man was still there. He wasn't. There was no trace of him at all. It was liked he had poofed into a cloud of smoke, only there was no smoke.

"Will make what a lot easier?" I asked. "Wait a minute, where's Reilly?"

"We have to move. He's packing. Tomorrow, after the lunch bell, we leave.

"Again? Michael, I'm sick of it. I've already told you. We've moved 6 times my entire life. Six times! And we are not even one of those military families!"

"I know Quinn, but we aren't safe here anymore. You know that. They are getting too close."

"Where will we go?"

We reached the school. I let out a sigh, seeing the hundreds of students standing outside. We were safer here. Public spaces were one of the only safe places we had anymore.

"North."

"North? Is that all you are going to tell me?"

"North," he repeated again.

The bell rang and he disappeared into the crowd of students, leaving me to stand alone. The one thing I'd always hated being: alone.