The concrete is cold, my belly is aching, my body is weak from dehydration and the sights and smells of the cars zooming by, the people walking past, the drunkards laughing from afar, the mentally unstable talking to themselves, promise me nothing but depression and frustration. Another sleepless, meal-less night with hardly anything to cover up with.

I curl up in a small ball and put my back to the world, facing the overpass wall. The things I've had to sacrifice to get a meal, those dirty immoral things I've done, plague me every waking moment of my life; I'm somebody nobody would ever want to be. Now.

My name is Jane Elizabeth Greene...

I'm 19 now, I lived in a forested place, in a two-story log cabin with my adoptive parents. I was the only child. Everybody in the family wore Victorian clothing. We chose to live different than modern day people because we believed we were all reincarnated and belonged in a different era.

Our lives were peaceful, quiet and healthy. My father has said people who live in the city don't live as long as those in the countryside do. I can believe that. I can really believe that.

We ate things from the garden, we made our own clothing, we got our exercise by doing things around the house, and we ate dinner together every night. I can't say that we ever had true fresh meat, though. We visited the store for that.

Life was good for me, then. "Us", then.

Until one afternoon, two years ago today - the day that changed all of us forever.

There was a knock at the door. My mother answered and a tall man about 25 to 30 with dark eyes and hair greeted her and pushed past with an unconscious man over his shoulder. I backed out of the way as fast as I could and saw the one over his shoulder had scratches and bruises across his face. His clothes were bloody and tattered, he had a broken arm and I saw a large slice in his back. The sight shook my whole body with anxiety.

He had blonde hair and a strong face. The strange man explained to my father that his 'son' was badly hurt while on a hunting trip with him and he needed to come home to heal. I was extremely confused, now that I realized he called this injured man my brother, and the fact he brought him home instead of taking him to the hospital. That was totally illogical to me.

My Mom was worried and my Dad was annoyed at this man's intrusion. I was so confused and hurt for this unconscious man, but I didn't say a word. My Dad told him to go ahead up to one of the spare rooms upstairs and I quickly trailed behind, my mother hurrying past me to catch up with them. The spare room was always off-limits. Mom and Dad forebode it for as long as I could remember. They said there is an evil presence in there and if I open the door, it'll come out and do horrible things to all of us. I tried to remind and warn them about it, but nobody listened to me.

When Dad opened the door to the spare room, the man rushed in and put my brother on a hospital bed in front of a window. The sight of this completely confounded me.

Everyone (including the man) told me to stay out of the room so I can leave my brother to heal in peace. I warned everyone again about the room. Each of them stared at me and then looked back to my brother. The man stared at me longer than my parents did and I thought I saw a ghost of a strange smile appear on his face. It gave me a strong urge to lower my head and turn away.

"We'll discuss it later Jane." My Dad said.
"Ok..." I hesitantly left the room and went to my own.

I stayed in my room for the rest of the night, trying to listen to what all they were talking about, but I couldn't decipher anything except that the man had to stay. He said he had to make sure the bed does its job properly.

Does its job properly? It was just a hospital bed!

My father said something with an aggravated tone and then I heard him say the name 'Scott'. I knew this must've been that man's name, because when he replied to my Dad, his voice seemed a little rougher and frustrated. Then my Mom spoke with a soft tone as if telling Scott not to worry about Dad's behavior.

I was looking at the door as I heard all of this, and then I stared down at my bed in more realization; it seemed my parents were keeping some really important things from me. They must've known 'Scott' for a while, and that was indeed his bed.

Why would they keep that from me?

I had a brother and he brought him back here, surely because of that bed. I was so confused why they've done this to me.

I started to feel angry and saddened.

Well, what else did they keep from me? Who was this 'Scott' guy? Why does he have that bed in there?

This was going to keep me up all night.

***

During the night hours, when all was quiet, I heard Scott leave my brother's room to go get something to eat from the kitchen. We may have dressed in Victorian clothing and didn't watch TV, but we did have some modern things. Refrigeration, air conditioning and lights... but we didn't like to use the AC or lights much at all.

I knew nobody was in my brother's room, so I carefully crept in and stood by his bed to look at him. Many questions ran through my mind. He looked more like me than he did my... parents.

I slowly knelt beside him and whispered; "I'm sorry this happened to you..." because I had a sneaking suspicion he may not wake up. I reached my arm across him and put my head on his chest to listen and make sure his heart and breathing was alright, and I wanted to hug him to assure he wasn't alone. I was certain he would need the warmth of a hug, because I've always thought love and a gentle touch helps heal wounds faster than medication. It's like encouragement.

Then something odd happened. I felt someone touch my back and hold a lock of my hair. I opened my eyes and quickly moved back, looking up and finding Scott standing over me. I was shocked - even horrified. How did this happen? I didn't hear him. I didn't feel his footsteps coming closer.

I didn't speak as he smiled and asked why I stopped holding my brother.

"You should. I'm sure he would appreciate that."

I didn't answer him.

He shrugged it off and took my hand, pulling me up.

"...Thank you." I quietly said. He smiled again and glanced down at my arm. Reaching slowly, he began to brush his finger over it. I inched away from him, asking what he was doing, and he shushed me. "Your parents didn't tell me about you."

That threw me off a bit. He was being pretty strange now...

"You're beautiful." He looked into my eyes again, "I like your skin." That was a really weird thing to hear.

"Um..." I awkwardly looked around and then at him again, "Thank you."

He closed his eyes in a calm, warm 'you're welcome' way. When he opened them, I focused more on his demeanor out of habit; a behavior I've developed over the past few years. What I saw in him... I would say, nothing seemed right about him at all. He looked like he had an ulterior motive and a raging temper if things wouldn't go his way. This was a red flag.

After a moment, he lowered his hand, because he could see I was studying him a little too closely and becoming nervous.

I gave a nod and left the room without looking back. I was clenching and waving my hands out as I kept thinking about that mean streak I saw in him. I wanted to go to my mother and ask her all of my questions and maybe tell her of my encounter with him, but if I did that, what would he do? They let him stay, and I think my Mom liked him. She seemed very accepting of him. Why...?

I didn't think he was going to leave any time soon.

I had so many questions and I felt so uncomfortable around him.