The fourteenth of February.

It's a day of love, cheesy romantic lines, and pink. Oh definitely, the pink.

It's the only day of the year where people actually mind being alone. Many singles usually don't care on ordinary days, but it's hard not to feel a bit depressed when couples are flaunting their partners everywhere. The pink and chocolate was honestly a tad bit overwhelming.

Today could be well considered as an ordinary day for you. You know, maybe besides all of the hearts and roses that hung around town.

As you head out of your classroom and into the bland hallways of your school, you cast your eyes to the ground. Not because you wanted to stare at the horribly lime green- tinted floor, no, but because you were tired of seeing all of your friends hooked onto another guy's arms.

You were happy for them, but a part of you couldn't help but feel ashamed. Could your friends really ditch their dignity in an instant? Well, turns out that it's true. They can.

You sigh while gathering your books at your tiny locker. You never appreciated the school's frugal budget. Sheesh, some locker funding wouldn't hurt. As you shut the blue metal door mercilessly, a friend skips over to you. An overwhelming smell of artificial vanilla hits your nose.

"Grace!" She calls your name, waving her freshly manicured fingers around. Her sweet voice turned the heads of guys- and girls. Not a single piece of her shiny black hair was out of place. It was funny how you had higher class friends.

"So," She starts, fumbling around with her school uniform. Hers happened to be monogrammed with her initials in bold pink. You still remember the day when Cara asked you if it was a bit too much. You opened your mouth to agree, but of course, her overly snobby fashion consultant claimed it was the 'next big trend'.

Cara blinks a bit, her mascara-coated lashes fluttering. "Guess what Kris did today?" She squeals in pure delight. Envious girls send glances her way, wondering about all the creepy giggling.

You smile. You always treasured friends, way more than guys.

"Did he ask you out?" You ask.

"How did you know?" She beams, jumping a bit. Cara had to the bubbliest girl you've ever met. Although you were both polar opposites, you cared for her with all of your heart. And it definitely didn't change the fact that she always had your back- ever since you two were young.

Flashback--- In the fourth grade.

"Quit it!" You yelled as the group of boys gathered in closer and closer. The torturous group continued to pull at your ponytail until your scalp ached and begged for mercy. Being the new second grader in school didn't exactly make you the most welcomed person ever. In fact, you naturally targeted by the ruthless boys. Being shy wasn't necessarily bad, but not being able to stand up for yourself was.

Tears threatened to overflow as they shouted rude but not necessarily true facts.

"She can't even fight back. Can ya' now?" The chubby one named Tom from New Jersey mocked as he pulled tighter. You didn't know what his deal was but you knew that you were really going to loose a lot of hair today.

Other kids on the playground didn't seem to care much. It made sense because you didn't have any friends anyway. They ignored the scenario obliviously as recess went on. You mentally prayed to God that the boys would get tired of you soon enough. You were too scared to even peep, but you weren't afraid to glare. You shoot an 'I really hate you right now' glare to the one in charge of this 'posse'. He was the merciless, most horrifying little fourth grader on the playground. Darren Brown.

"I'll get you one day, Darren," you mutter as the boys shove you to the ground.

His brown eyes look down at you without much care. Despite his innocent smile and snow-white pale skin, he was dubbed as the most notorious prankster and leader. "I can't control them," He laughs. You knew he could, though. They would do anything to please their stupid leader. He smirks from the top of the playground, smug.

Looks like God answered your prayers though, because a shout from the edge of the playground erupted.

"Hey!" It was a girl's voice. You immediately looked up, but to your dismay, your scalp ached even more. The boys diverted their attention to the interruption- only for a little while, though. No one ever intruded on one of their little 'sessions'.

A girl about three inches shorter than you, 10 pounds skinnier than you, with light and bouncy pigtails stomped up to the crowd. Her eyebrows screamed 'FEEL MY RAGE'. You couldn't help but think that she was really cute though- like a little feisty cabbage patch doll.

To your surprise, the boys looked down in shame. "Haven't your mothers ever told you not to to pull at a girl's hair?! It happens to be the most treasured thing a girl can own!" She points to all of them. "Why don't you try going bald for a while!" She pauses with her hands on her hips. "Now scram!"

The boys glance at one another before reluctantly letting go of your head. You sigh from the release and immediately massage your crying scalp. You wondered how this little girl had so much power despite looking so tiny.

"Are you alright?" She asks you with concern. Her big brown eyes make her seem kind and caring. You nod without saying anything. "My name is Cara," she says with a cute smile. Ever since then, the two of you were insepreable.

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Of course you figured out that the only reason she was respected by many was because of her financial status. Her father was the new CEO of some manufacturing company. You didn't mind though. She was really sweet and caring- and you just wanted to be a true friend who could be there for her just as she did for you.

Cara was popular; you could say. Not the rich and snobby kind of popular (which surprised you- because most of them were) but she was pretty down to earth and bubbly. You on the other hand, were a bit lackluster- just a plain old Jane down the street. Of course you received a lot of attention from people because you happened to be Cara's best friend, but that didn't stop you from remaining pretty quiet like you always were.

Flashback-- The eighth grade.

"Hey Grace!" Cara waves happily from the end of the hallway. The lunch bell rings loudly as she strides towards you, attracting glances from the boys only a mere five feet away from her. She didn't seem to notice it, but you could tell that it was that time in life where boys got interested in things other than videogames.

You smile while handing her a water bottle that you found on her desk. She had raced out of the classroom like there was no-tomorrow that she forgot it. It was typical of her, but that was on of her charming qualities.

At the end of the hallway, you could make out a body stature that your brain had programmed to keep at least a 10 foot distance from.

It was Darren. Seriously, why can't this kid transfer to the East Aleutian Islands or something? You bet that no one would miss him.

Except, oh right, his fangirls who follow him around the whole building.

As Cara and you walk closer, she mutters to herself, as she always does, 'Someone has to knee him in the balls..' You hold back a chuckle most of the time, but this time, you couldn't stop staring at him.

You hated him to the fiery depths of hell- not only because of his annoying hair pulling posse (whom by the way could probably start a wig store with the amount of hair they pulled) but because of his terrible tendency to break girls' hearts. Seriously. What made him think that he could reject girls here and there like he was the owner of this place?

It hurt you to see crying girls running from hallways to see Darren standing on the other side, expressionless.



Yet... you still found him attractive. Why? You didn't know. Maybe it was because of his silky chestnut colored hair, or that pale porcelain skin of his. Or maybe that constant look of distance. Who knows. All you knew was that it shot tingles straight form your head to your toes.

It still didn't stop you from thinking that it was wrong.

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Flashback: Last year. High school.

Things are still the same. You and Cara are as close as ever, your parents are still as bubbly as ever, but you can feel society shifting around you. Girls now care about what they wear, and boys cared about getting it in.

It was a bit repulsive.

You wondered how society could ever be so shallow, wandering in their own selfishness like a Koi fish in a muddy pond. It was bound to happen, though.

Darren has changed as well. Not only was he rejecting girls from left to right, but he was also toying with them, using them for his own selfish needs. You guess he finally found his advantage.

Cara goes on and on about her latest trip to Morocco with her family during winter vacation. Unlike everyone else in the classroom, she was the only one with a sun-kissed tan and beautiful bronze highlights. It made you smile.

As her voice drowns out a bit, you find your eyes wandering to that clutter of desks in the back of the classroom where the school's 'elite' remained. Girls practically sat in Darren's lap, fiddling with his tie while (probably) whispering not so clean things into his ear. The both of you meet eyes. It isn't before you raise an eyebrow with a sort of questioning look until he sends the same look right back.

'I see you're up to your little seducing shenanigans again,' your eyes seem to say.

'It's not seducing if you're not trying,' his own smirk seems to say. The little exchange is interrupted by Kris, a fellow classmate of yours, asking to borrow a pencil. When you look back, he's full on kissing her, but his eyes seem to remain on yours.

'Zero-One Darren,' they say.

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Flashback- four moths ago.

He's gone now. No one even knows where he is.

Some say he's been kicked out, and some say that he's been pulled out of school to train as an exclusive FBI agent. These 'people' surely have a wild imagination. You figure that he was suspended or expelled for some reason, yet, it still remained a hot topic of the school.

You were walking home from school one day, taking the path that twisted around the dry cleaners and passed several alleyways. It was bright September afternoon, but you never failed to realize that one part of the neighborhood was shadowed by some random cloud, and made it seem a bit more mysterious than it already was.

"We burned it down, boss. Just last night." A deep voice emerges from one of the alleyways, nearly scaring you out of your socks. The grip on your backpack tightened as you determined to keep walking straight ahead.

"Good. You are to take the safe with you next time. I don't appreciate ashes of money."

You froze.

"Sorry, boss. It won't happen again." The deep voice rings again.

"It better not. The next time it does, I'll have your head burned into ashes. Got it?" Darren says as he throws his cigarette to the ground.

It was him. Darren. And you bet it scared the heebie jeebies out of you. What in the world was he doing in an alleyway with a bulky tattooed man, nearly threatening to kill him if his money was burned? Wait- that didn't even sound right.

You duck behind smelly trashcans, trying to ignore the putrid scent of rotting tuna fish and old raddishes to get a better view of the two. After exchanging some other words, the tattooed man leaves, leaving Darren standing my himself.

You recall hearing about a bank fire the other day on the news. Could this be Darren's fault?

"I know you're hiding behind there." Darren calls out, his tone mocking. You curse under your breath, wondering how he knew. "I can see your shoes." He seemed to read your mind.

Well, what was there to lose?

You stand up from the mess of trashcans, sending Darren into surprise. "Grace?"



He lost wieght.

And not only that, but everything about him looked disheveled. His eyes were gray, full of mischief, and his chestnut hair that was once short was grown a bit longer to the point where it hung at his eyes. Although he was decked out in name brand clothing items, Darren himself did not look... healthy.

He smirked a bit, taking a few steps towards you. As the wind blew, you could easily smell his minty cologne.

"D-Darren? What the hell are you doing in an alley?" You shake your head, not understanding. Was this the reason why he wasn't attending school anymore? To be the leader of some gang?

"You shouldn't be here, Grace. It's not very safe." His lips are smirking, but his eyes clearly read something else. They seem to say, 'Please. Get out of here. Save yourself.'

You guess that all of that eye reading in class paid off.

"I-I.." you stutter.

As he finally emerged from the shadows, you could clearly see the dark circles under his eyes, marking him as sleep deprived.

"What happened to you?" Panic filled your voice. "Why aren't you in school? Why are you burning down buildings? And why does it look like you haven't eaten in days?"

"I don't need your pity," He snarls, anger twisting in his voice. His eyes. They look sad. As the whistle of the wind echoes in your ears, you step forward. He steps back.

"It isn't pity. Have you ever heard of the term 'genuine concern'?" You scoff, trying to ease the atmosphere.



"Go home, Grace. It's too late for that." A smile plays on his lips as he slips back into the shadows, the darkness swallowing him up again.





And that's when you found out what exactly happened to Darren Brown.