Chaotic Hope.

~Chapter One~ LENA (Eight Years Later...)

"VALENCIA DRAKE! GET YOUR SCRAWNY f*****g ASS DOWN HERE!" Shouted my foster father Travis Delaney, no doubt from his favorite chair in the living room downstairs—I swear the imprint of his grotesque body will remain in it long after he's gone.

"Please don't keep him waiting again, Lena. I don't think I can take another beating so soon after the last one." Another kid raised in the foster system and my chosen sister, whispers from the bed beside me.

I looked up at her curled in a fatal position, tears brimming her now lifeless hazel eyes, and felt that terrifying fury once again building inside my chest.

Four years older then my nine-year-old self, Ariz has always tried to shelter me from the realities we faced in whatever home they put us in at the time. This is just one example, but me being me, I knew exactly what she meant by 'beatings'.

This isn't the first time, apparently, but it will be the last.

My tiny frame begins to shake with rage as her thoughts bombard me. I've tried to block them out many times, but the stronger the emotions behind them, the clearer they are, and right now I'm out for blood.

Travis was just one of many foster daddy's that took full advantage of having young girls in their home—if you get my drift? And just like all the other's before him, he signed his own death warrant by making Ariz his latest victim...she belongs to me, and I always protect what is mine.

With that thought in mind, I jumped up from where I'd been laying on the floor and reached out to twirl a loose strand of her dark-brown hair around my finger, something I've been doing since we first met years ago, before planting a quick kiss on her cheek.

"I'll make this right, I promise." I tell her with a forced smile.

She opens her mouth but I'm already heading out the door, closing it softly behind me and promptly cutting off whatever she was about to say.

A real smile graces my lips as I made my way down the hallway towards the staircase, knowing full well I'm going to get an earful when I return to our room later but I couldn't let her talk me out of it.

Not this time.

Sure, we'll be moved yet again, and it will suck...really suck, but I'd rather have Ariz in my life than not all. Her comment earlier paired with the dark thoughts I just gathered from her, she's barely hanging in there. One more 'beating' from this sick f**k and I'd lose her, forever.

Over my dead body....

I hop of off the last step, square my shoulders and march into the living room with murder in my eyes. Only before I could deliver my brand of justice, I stagger to an abrupt stop just over the threshold and fight with everything in me not to grab at my head as I'm overwhelmed by the menacing thoughts of the three other men standing around Travis.

Blinking through the pain of having so many different voices inside my head at one time, I take stock of the situation I suddenly find myself in.

Firstly thing I notice is that the newcomers are all dressed in fancy suits that no doubt cost more than everything in the Delaney's house. Secondly their all strikingly beautiful, but none more so than the fourth man, who I just noticed, lounging casually in the only other recliner aside from Travis'.

His blonde hair is gelled to perfection in that just-rolled-out-of-bed look some of the foster boys try and fail to achieve. His jawline, as Ariz would say, is sharp enough to slice you with and his green eyes...though piercing and void of all emotions, tell of life hard lived. The strangest thing of all about this powerful stranger is his thoughts—whereas his men's are all of death and s*x, his are warm and nurturing...and a complete contradiction of the man himself, the very one who not only demands respect but expects it.

He's staring right at me, and I feel the other men, even my foster mother, Karmen—who has just joined us after putting on her face to cover up the black eye she got last night—stiffened when I meet and hold his gaze, definitely.

You may install fear in all the adults mister, but not me. Never me. Because unlike them I know your deepest, darkest secret...I tell him with my eyes before nodding respectfully at him.

Someone clears their throat, shattering the connection between us and snapping me back to the present.

Right...focus Valencia!

Turning my attention to Travis who smirks gleefully at me, his eyes twinkling with satisfaction.

'Yeah girly, that's right. I just sold you to Mr Sinclair, your now his to di whatever the hell he likes. To bad I never got to sample you first. Oh well, at least I still have that b***h upstairs to play with. What fun I'll have breaking...'

A knife from the block in the kitchen materialises in the palm of my hand, I grip the hilt tight enough my knuckles turn white and before he could even finish that thought or anyone make a move to stop me, I'm dragging the blade across his meaty throat.

Karmen let's out a blood-curdling scream as Travis' blood sprays us both. Mr Sinclair doesn't move, his eyes never leaving me, while his men jump into action. I hear the tallest one barking out order's as he snatches the knife from me, or should I say tried too.

"If you value your life, you will let go." I tell him in a calm voice, my eyes locked on Travis as he fruitlessly fights to keep the blood gushing from his body.

I catch snippets of everyone's thoughts; the younger kids are all fearing for their lives upstairs—thankfully Ariz is with them, reassuring everyone that they'll be okay. While the older ones are desperate to see what's going on, but one of Mr Sinclair's men are blocking their way on the staircase. Karmen has been knocked out cold by another of his men, and still the 'Boss' himself hasn't moved from his spot.

When he nods his head, the one in charge let's go off the knife but doesn't move away from me. Which is fine, he clearly takes his job seriously, and right now I'm a threat.

Taking a step closer to Travis, bringing us face to face, I c****d my head to the side and smile at him.

"I warned you this would be the outcome, Travis Delaney. Promised to watch the life drain from your eyes with a smile." I giggle and tap the tip of the knife on his nose. He makes a gargled noise and weakly tries to shove me away. A phone rings in the background, but I'm focused on the task at hand. "I had full intentions of making you beg Lucifer for mercy before sending your soul to meet him. He has a place in Hell reserved especially for the likes of you." I shake my head in disgust, lean in even closer and lower my voice so only he could hear my next words, "But that's not where you're going. Oh no, no, no. I have something more fitting in mind, something I know you'll absolutely love."

I vague register the conversations happening around me. By this point Mr Sinclair is pacing the living room, everyone seems to be on edge and rightly so.

You see, humans have this sixth sense to danger being near, it kicks in their fight or flight instincts. Apparently being 'made men' theirs is more prominent, and right now they're all on high alert. Little do they know, I'm the most dangerous person in this room.

"What do you mean, it's all clear. Check again!" Mr Sinclair demands as he hangs up and moves closer to Travis and I. "Valencia, sweetheart, he's...."

Whatever else he said becomes white noise as my canines sink into Travis' flesh and my toxic vemon quickly spreads throughout his blood stream. All too soon, his heart stops completely and by all means he's dead. I don't exactly know what my bite does to them, but they come back to life and no matter where I am in the country, they always find me.

I currently have fourteen undead, that's what I'm calling them, foster daddy's at my disposal. Travis will make fifteen when he returns. And the best part, all of them are loyal to me and me alone—literally and figuratively.

It's exhilarating and kind of scary but like everything else 'Valencia Drake', I take in stride. I mean it's not like I can actually tell anyone about my quirky abilities. They'll either think I'm crazy and have me locked in a whute-padded room for the rest of my life or worse...kept in cage and drugged with God only knows what so they can experiment on me for however long I live.

Thanks but I'll take a hard pass on that.

Mr Sinclair's gently touch on my shoulder and thoughts brings me back to reality, and without saying a word to him or his men, I turn on my heels and trudge my way back upstairs, silently slipping past the brute and other kids covered head to toe in Travis' blood.

Our room is empty, thank God, so I quickly grabbed some clean clothes and my toiletries, before rushing across the hallway and into the bathroom.

"Lena..." I hear Ariz call out as I'm closing the door.

"Need a shower. I'll explain everything after." I shout back and start stripping.

Blood has always called to me, and my fascination with it borderlines insanity I'm sure.

I remember the first time as if it happened yesterday. Ariz and I were placed with the Anderson's, nice enough couple and we really liked it there. I was four and they had a daughter who was a year older than me, and Sheryl used to dress us like twins. Anyway, one day while out learning to ride our bikes, she fell off and skinned her knee—blood was running down her legs as she cried out in pain.

The red substance was all I could seem to focus on, her cries and screams were an added bonus; the most beautiful melody I'd ever heard.

Later that night I sat in my room and dug a sharpened knife into my leg. Then watched, hypnotised as the blood ran down, creating a pool of red at my feet. I didn't cry like Sophie had. The tears and screams of agony never came, the blood was just pretty, but not nearly as pretty as someone else's, and unaccompanied by screams of agony it just wasn't the same.

That was the moment I realised I was different. It didn't take Ariz long after that to come to the same conclusion—something was seriously wrong with me. I knew as much and accepted that, but even today, she refuses to consider it.

"You're just different, Lena; not wrong..." She's always telling me.

But no matter what she does or says, I know normal people don't enjoy the fear or pain of others, and they sure as hell don't revel in being the one causing it.

She's the only person who knows about my psychotic urges, and anytime they get the best of me, she always manages to talk me down from the ledge, to keep me sane, before anyone got hurt.

Charlotte Pierce is the key that keeps my monster locked in her cage, although in desperate times like today she slips through the cracks, leaving nothing but chaos in her wake.

By the time I step into the shower, my head is absolutely killing me. I can't seem to make any sense of who thought what, its all a jumbled mess, but one thing is crystal clear; if that Mr Sinclair guy even thinks for a second I'm leaving this house without my key, he has another thing coming.