She was living in a world all her own. It was predictable, tamable, and above all, uninfluenced by anyone other than herself. One might think living this way would be suitable, but she wouldn't wish it upon even her strongest of enemies; if she had any, that is. Inside the house on Stone Oak Lane, she was safe from everything and everyone around her, no misdeed could breech the borders of the safe house in which she resided. Aneice knew little of the outside world, but she longed for what little pleasures she did know about. The prickle of grass beneath her feet, gazing at cloud formations in a pastel blue sky. It was silly to imagine such things, because until your experience them, you have no idea what they feel or look like. She never slept; didn't need to, but just once she wanted to know what it would feel like waking up in the morning to a brand new day. Aneice sat by the one portal she knew of to the world. It was a small window in her bedroom, to low to the ground to scarcely see the sky, but it was the only ticket to freedom and she took it. So sick of being caged, she shattered the glass and didn't pause to feel the pain. In fact, she didn't feel much of anything until she'd managed to crawl out from inside the house. It was a short drop down to solid ground.

She raised her hand to be devoured in a pit of sun. How queer the contrast between porcelain white skin and coal black blood. It weaved in rivets down her arms at a steady rate; dying her skin an inky color. The boy saw her much before she saw him, still, he lingered at the edge of the street, not sure what he was to do. Finally he crossed the threshold onto her lawn and cautiously marched towards her. Aneice's ears strained to pick up the movement of his feet across the grass; her hearing was exquisite. She lowered her gaze from her outstretched arm to the boy who by now was merely feet before her. What a curious looking boy he was; light brown hair that hung in curls about his face, troubling eyes that she couldn't determine a color, and lips so wide they didn't look like they rightfully belonged to him. He crouched down until they were eye to eye and she met him with a smile. He returned the gesture and offered his arm to her, which she accepted with her good hand. Pulling her up to her feet he examined her left arm; by now it was scarcely shedding any blood. An expression came across his face that did not suit him; his eyebrows dipped together and his eyes squinted, giving him the appearance of someone who had witnessed something vile. She retched her arm free from him and turned on her heel, but before she got far he called to her. "Stop, I didn't mean to scare you." Aneice was a proud girl, always had been, and did not heed his pleas and continued walking. "I know you're not one of us, and that's okay. But I want to help." he cooed, his arms wrapping around her shoulder. Not in an aggressive manner, more to stop her from making a mistake. She turned once again and looked into the boy's eyes, which she soon noticed, didn't reveal his motives. Still, she had reason to trust him although she didn't know why, and when he persisted she follow him she obeyed.

The house in which he lived could have been clipped straight from a historic housing magazine. The entrance breathed nothing but welcome; the house itself was wrapped within a smoldering green lawn. Alternating red and brown bricks made up the exterior and dome shaped windows added accents to the already overwhelming beauty of the house. She had never witnessed such a piece of art; she refused to enter the home until she had reviewed every last detail of the structure. The boy didn't seem surprised with her reaction, he explained he got it often. Circling around the front, Aneice followed a man made path consisting of rounded blocks of cement that lead her to the second marvel of the estate. The path fell away, but not before leading her to a white stone pillared gazebo. The top was wrought iron twisted together to form a spherical shape. The whole rustic appearance of it stole the very breath from within her. She vowed to return to it later for a deeper examination of the intricate patters of the formation, but the boy was getting restless. With much difficulty she followed him back to the front of the house and climbed up onto the porch, which creaked with age. A large scripted S branded the glass door in golden paint. He didn't bother knocking; simply swung the door open and held it open for her to join him inside. Unsure if such a move would be wise, she hovered outside for a moment, contemplating walking off without an explanation. But something in the way he looked at her changed her mind quickly. She stepped past him and he smiled and slid the door close. There was a horrible feeling in her gut that there was no going back, but any feelings of remorse upon entering the house quickly faded away when she took in the interior. The floors were wood, the walls were plaster like any other; but with a more defined pattern. In the corner of the large living room where they stood was a spiral glass staircase that wove up to the second floor. He took her hand; such a warm thing, and led her to that exact stairwell. They winded up the stairs and Aneice had to try very hard not to glance down; she wasn't one for heights. When they reached the final step she exhaled deeply and realized she had been holding her breath during the climb. The boy guided her down the hall and into the last bedroom. It must have been his. She knew because everything in the room explained nothing of him to her. The walls were white washed, the floor was tiled. The only furnishings was a mattress lying upon the floor along with a night stand beside it. On the far wall was a book shelf covered in every binding imaginable. He shrugged and apologized for the plainess of it all, but she didn't mind. The two of them sat down on the floor and talked. His name was Maverick and he hadn't always lived in this house. It belonged to his grandparents and only when they passed away and his father inherited it is when they moved here. He was seventeen, went to school, got decent grades and had never seen a girl as beautiful as her. Aneice blushed at the compliment; something she wasn't even aware she was able to do. Their conversation barely grazed the top of who they trulely were, but somehow it was enough to instill a bond of trust amongst them.

It seemed the more they left unsaid, the more they understood each other. When that final bridge of trust had been stabilized, he took her hand in his; no doubt unaware of the blood caking her flesh. The two of them had been so enveloped in conversation that they had overlooked her injuries. "Now that you know me a little better, do you think you have enough faith in me to tend these wounds?" He fidgeted under her analyzing gaze for several moments until she nodded her head and gave him permission to do the task at hand. There was a small bathroom just across the hall from the bedroom and he excused himself to it. It took him longer to return then she had expected, so, while she waited, she stood and walked across to his book shelf which she had been curious about since first viewing it. The vast majority of the books were viewably old and leather bound. A few appeared to be albums of sorts. She grabbed the one from the topmost shelf and dusted it with a quick slap of her wrist. It had the same scripted S on it as the front door; it must have been a family custom. Flipping open to the front page, Aneice saw the smiling faces of what she guessed were Maverick's family. He hadn't mentioned having a mother; but there, holding him as a little boy, was a woman that appeared a mirror image of him, even in his young age. At her side was a man she quickly recognized as his father; she had seen him walking before. Seeing them together like that made her heart ache, she would never know what it would be like to have a family... The bedroom door opened and he returned to the room. He didn't even glance at her but instead walked over to the nightstand and put down his armful of goodies. It was only once he had done that that he inquired as to what she was doing. There was a trace of anger in his face but she didn't falter. She closed the book and slid it back into place on the shelf before turning to face him. She smiled and shrugged. "Well, I've got all the things we'll need," he said and motioned for her to join him on the floor, which she did. He lifted a brown bottle and unscrewed the cap; letting the liquid flow over her arm. It didn't hurt, but gave her a very disorientating feeling. His fingers moved quickly to catch any of the excess medicine with a rag and than bandaged up his work. The entire process took only a matter of minutes but his hands shook the entire time. "There, that should do." She nodded graciously and examined his handiwork. It wasn't bad, to be sure. "So, you must be the last of your kind huh?" he marveled. Aneice didn't like the way he was looking at her; like she was a specimen beneath a microscope. She shrugged and deflected the question as best she could but he pressed on. "Not to be, well, rude, but how is it you managed to survive in exile all this while?" She decided it was time to leave. She stood and walked towards the door but he quickly caught up to her. "Sorry, you don't have to leave. I know that's probably a sensitive subject." But Aneice was beyond listening to him; she knew he was recalling what he was said the whole time she descended the stairs but she didn't hear his words. It was only when she was safely back in her own home that she could still her racing heart.