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A horde of people surround me. Their sounds invade my senses like a symphony of battle cries. Children giggle and whine, teenagers gossip and hum to the background music, adults exchange their casual business. I weave through the engulfing crowd of people, trying to find a way out of the dying mass.

Like normal person's common nightmare, I'm buck naked. To me, however, this means an entirely different horror. If I stand completely still, people foolishly bump into me. Even though they say a polite 'Excuse me', the damage is already done. My skin sizzles or my stomach lurches. My heart aches or my throat compresses. The Numbers flash together in a long string of blinding light, making my mind reel. The back of my eyes burn with Numbers as if I was staring at the sun too long.

I try to escape; pushing and shoving is pointless. My skin is bare for all to touch. I try to scream for them to stop touching me, to go away. But the pain from every man, woman, and child keeps me silent, paralyzed.

Everywhere I turn, past relations flaunt their faces in front of me. I see my kindergarten teacher chase after Alan, a foster brother from South Dakota. A set of foster parents from Nebraska brush past me and I relive what I've already seen and felt.

The people I already knew bombard me with the memories of their death. I get pushed, trampled, and jostled until someone recognizes me: Lucy, my late foster sister.

Her blue eyes wide, she stops in front of me as her shoulder length, strawberry blonde hair whips around her face due to invisible wind. Little Lucy lifts her hand and brushes back the hair that's violently blowing into her eyes. "D-Dakota?"

My heart melts at her fragile voice. She was one of the only people I let get close to me. We'd stay up all night talking and playing games. I was fifteen at the time, but I didn't mind hanging around a five year old. Lucy was my rock and never treated me badly for dressing strangely.

"Why did you leave us? Why did you leave me?" Lucy's eyes fill up with tears, making me remember when I unintentionally touched her, me recoiling instantly; she cried then too.

"I'm so sorry, Lucy." I had to leave them. I demanded being moved right after I realized I became too attached.

Her eyes fill with hate as she glares at me. Immediately everyone else turns to me and does the same. All of the people I've touched start snarling nasty comments to me. I'm a freak, I should be killed, I'm a murderer. They all ask me why I didn't help them or why I abandoned them.

I hurts to hear what I've always feared of. They hate me, hate what I do, but deep down, love that I left them. People that I considered family, friends crowd around me and place their hands on me. I scream in agony, for their touch brings a new type of pain entirely.

I cry out for help, but no one listens. My body sore, I finally give up. I fall limply into the throng of people.

The crowd disperses and their Numbers are erased from my mind. A featureless figure passes through my memories, as if they were ghosts, and steps closer to me. A hand extends to me, wanting to help me up. I slowly reach up, about to accept the person's offering. A sense of harmony surrounds us; all feels safe. My fingers brush against their warm palm and everything fades away.

I jolt straight up in bed and wipe the sweat away from my brow. Running a hand through my hair, I fall back onto my pillow and take a deep breath. That was a common dream of mine except for Lucy; that person changes every night. Sometimes it's her, sometimes it's my parents, sometimes it's another foster-something. But there has never been the nameless person, the one to save me from the foregone Numbers.

I grind my teeth together as a stress reliever and check the clock. It's almost ten so I get up and pull on some sweatpants and my shirt from last night. As soon as I walk into the kitchen, the smell of bacon invades my nose. I hurriedly sit down at the table and Loonie wordlessly sets a heaping pate of pancakes with a side of bacon. God, I love food.

I devour my meal while my foster mom sits across from me, staring in amusement. "I hope you know that your fork isn't edible."

Nodding with a small smile on my face, I swallow the food in my mouth. Once my mouth is empty I greet her by saying, "Morning, Loonie."

"Good morning to you too!" She shoots me a cheerful smile and sips at what looks like a cup of tea. I go back to eating my breakfast, but manage to slow it down a bit and savor the home cooked taste. Once I am done, Loonie giddily takes my plate and tosses it into the dishwasher, not even flinching at the loud clatter it made.

"Let's go somewhere today!" She pipes up randomly. Her hair is styled in the usual wavy fauxhawk and is bouncing in time with her excitement.

As much as I like her, she's still going to die in three years. "Why?" I deadpan.

Loonie scoffed like the answer was obvious. "So we can chat! I hardly know anything about you other than the type of music that you listen to, which is brilliant by the way, and that's just from what I heard yesterday when you played it in your room." She chugs the rest of her morning tea and reached for my hand. I snap it back, making Loonie raise her perfectly sculpted eyebrow at me, but she says nothing. "Do you want to go do something or shall I put you to work in the garden?"

I sigh. "Where would we go?"

"That, my flappy stonker," she stifles a giggle, "Is a surprise!"

"... 'stonker'?" I ask hesitantly.

Loonie actually does giggle this time before patting my shoulder and saying, "Look it up, boy." before she walks out of the room.

Weirdo.

I decide to get ready for whatever my foster mom is planning. I take a quick shower and step out of the bathroom with a rag of a towel wrapped around my waist. Running a hand through my messy, wet hair, I turn of some music and yawn.

Humming along to the sexy words of Pierce The Veil, I throw on a solid gray tee shirt as well as a pair of blue boxers. I comb out the knots in my hair with my fingers. Settling on a pair of light gray skinny jeans and a tight navy sweater, I go back downstairs.

To my utter annoyance, Andy and his family are all laughing along to Loonie's words. Andy looks amazing by the way. His beautiful eyes glance my way and he makes it a point to wink at me. My cheeks gather a pinkish tint and I scowl at the floor by my feet

"-he eats like a pig! I wondered if he didn't just inhale his food at that! Oh and Dakota also sings in the shower, quite loudly might I add. But he actually is a really good singer. He also did this cute thing when he was sleeping where-"

"You were watching me sleep...?" I broke into Loonie's embarrassing conversation. I do not sing in the shower! ... Its just a little humming. And I don't eat like a pig. I just like food. And what do I do when I sleep?!

"Oi Dakota! You listening to me? Or are you asleep in there? Nah, if you were asleep, you'd do that cute thing where you curl into a ball and murmur Andy's name over and over; God, you guys are adorable together!"

I blush furiously and I can see Andy smirking out of the corner of my eye, his cheeks tinted pink too. "I do not say his name when I sleep!" I angrily tug on my shoes and trudge to the door. "And we are not together!"

Slamming the door behind me, I huff to the car and sit in the very back. With a half scowl, half pout, I watch as the other follow my lead and enter the car.

To my distaste, Andy also sat in the back seat of the seven-seat silver van. His parents taking the front two seats and Loonie messing around with Nathan in the middle two seats. I make sure to sit all the way to the left, by the window, so there's more space between me and him. But Andrew moves from his seat by the window, to the middle of the three seats.

I keep my hands and facial region far away from him. Then I remember to put my gloves on. Andy looks at me curiously as I slip them both on, immediately relaxing. He looks like he's about to try talking to me, so I quickly start a conversation with my foster mom.

"So Loonie, where are we going?" I ask by her shoulder (she's sitting in front of me).

She turns slightly so I can see her gleaming piercing. "'Tis a surprise! I already told you. Now no more talking. I need to prank Nate." She whispers the last part.

I roll my eyes with a small smile. But that soon fades as I lay my eyes on Andrew's brother. Nathan. You're going to die, kid. We're all going to die. That's how life works.

I can tell that Andy's watching me with mild interest, but honestly, I don't care. This poor kid's going to die of, most likely, lung cancer. Hacking, coughing, retching. The bitter aftertaste of smoke. Death.

Nate looks back and catches my stare. He looks at me quizzically but gives a small wave accompanied by a smile. I nod my head in greeting and murmur out, "Stay away from cigarettes, kid."

I honestly didn't think he'd hear me, or if he did, he would think it was more adult-nagging, even though I'm not an adult. But he did and responded with, "Why? Dad smokes and he says I can, but only when I'm old enough."

Flinching at his answer, I shift my gaze to his dad, worn out. I can't meddle with their lives. Just drop it Kota.

I turn so I'm facing the window with my head in my hand. Tuning out the rest of their conversations, I close my eyes; not sleeping, just out of weariness.

A few minutes pass, I open my eyes again and see that we're driving on an ugly interstate. What ever happened to those beautiful, winding roads surrounded by life, trees? Now everything's been landscaped, made flat for the sake of convince.

I sense it before it happens; someone's about to touch me. Then Andy lays a hand on my arm and all hell breaks loose, well in my mind anyway. I thank my choice to wear this sweater, even though it's a warm 79° F on this sunny day.

Jerking back as far as I can, my wild-set eyes stare at nothing but Andy's gentile hand, which is now on the seat next to me. I slowly raise my eyes to meet his and he has a frustrated look, mixed with confusion and dolefulness.

"Dakota, Andy! We're here!" Andy's mom, who I found out to be Irene, called back at us. I scramble over the middle seats, glad Loonie and Nathan have already exited the car.

Sh*t. I'm surrounded by people; mostly kids and young teens. Double sh*t.

We're at Valleyfair and like a Six Flags or any other amusement park, it's full of people and very loud. The smell of cotton candy and garbage wafts through the parking lot as everyone puts on sunscreen. Wait, who puts sunscreen on at the amusement park? Weird people.

The heat is getting to me and I flap my sweater a few times, trying to make it breathe so I can cool down. I turn to Loonie and try to get out of being here, in this death trap. "Loons, can I sit this one out? Just stay in the car or something?"

"No! Do you know how bloody hot and stuffy that thing gets? And your b*tchy social worker said you were anti-social. So you need to socialize! Go with Andy and find some teenagers to get in trouble with."

Irene rolls her eyes, "Loonie, don't corrupt my children! And watch your language around Nathan."

Too late; Nate's already running around yelling, "B*tchy! B*tchy! B*tchy!"

"But I thought you said the whole point of this," I gestured to the park around us, "Was to get to know each other or something like that."

Loonie smiles at me. "We can do that another day. I'm sure you'd much rather have fun and go on rides then talk to your mummy."

I know it was unintentional, but that last part still made me wince. I don't want anyone to be my 'mommy'. The last person I called 'mommy' abandoned me and called me a freak.

I nod solemnly. No way I'm getting out of this, is there? We all walk to the ticket booth and I space out until I see Loonie and the rest of Andrew's family walking toward a black octopus shaped ride called The Monster.

Andy turns to me and smiles. I stare blankly at him. "So, where to first? How about The Scrambler!"

"No," I quickly refuse, "The Ferris Wheel." It's the slowest, most peaceful ride I see. Unlike The Scrambler that spins in a whiplashing figure eight, gravity making the two people in the cart get squished together.

Andy agrees reluctantly and we head over to the ride. I dodge everyone that's foolishly rushing by. Occasionally I hit a shoulder or a loose arm, but my clothes protect me. We reach the short line that's zigzagged in between chipped, blue painted, metal bars. The line moves quickly and soon we're in front of a pimply teenager.

He leads us to cart number four and makes sure the door is locked and secure before putting him thumb up, signaling for the bored looking forty year old to rotate the ferris wheel. It slowly rises as the wheel spins in a sluggish circle.

I look at the view and breathe in the fresh air above the foul smelling park. Letting myself relax, I forget all about Andy. I lean over the edge and smile as we go higher and higher and higher. I could jump and get severely injured if I wanted. And man do I want to.

"Hey don't lean over too far or you'll fall," Andy warns worriedly. I look over at him and blink. We've reached the top and start to descend in the same circular motion. My chance is lost and I settle back into the hard bench.

Andy really is cute. He has a boyish face and a mouthwatering body. He has nice style and taste in music from what I can tell from him band tees. I feel heat coming to my cheeks, but quickly push the feeling down. By now we start rising again. Other people in the ferris wheel can be heard making quiet conversation. I wonder if anyone's ever had sex in a ferris wheel?

"Wanna try?" Andy looks amused.

I realize I must have said that last part out loud and scowl at him. Pftt it was his fault for listening. "So," Andrew leans in, "Tell me about yourself, Da-ko-ta." He says my name in separate syllables.

"Okay!" I say with bubbly, false enthusiasm, "Well, I love hugs and people and- f*ck you." I deadpan the last part.

Andy pouts, which I'll admit was incredibly cute. "No need to get snippy. I just wanted to know my future lover a little bit-"

"Who said anything about me being your lover?!" I rage, "You don't know anything about me! You don't know what I go through every f*cking day. I don't want to get close to you- or anyone for thatmatter! Just leave me alone and keep your hand off m-"

03/29/2093

Warmth, peace, happiness.

03/29/2093

Our lives flash before my eyes; Andy holding my hand, me and him graduating high school together, him holding me at night. Our wedding. Our honeymoon. Our adopted children. Our first house together. Everything until we're laying side by side on our deathbeds, happy.

03/29/2093

The last flicker of his number fades, which has never happened before. I've never held skin to skin contact this long. I feel a pressure on my lips and when my eyes refocus, I see Andy's dove gray eyes close to my chestnut brown ones.

Then it hits me. He's kissing me. Andrew is kissing me and I don't feel a terrible death. Don't get me wrong, most deaths aren't the one's I've been describing, but those don't stand out or hurt as much. When someone will die peaceful, I can feel their life force just fade and everything becomes murky and cold.

But with Andy, I feel love and serenity. I'm there as well. It's almost like what Andy said when I met him, that our fates are intertwined. He's part of me, I'm part of him.

I want more, more of this consummate joy, more of Andy. But I pull back anyway. What if I'm just imagining it? What if it's all a lie? Most people don't live to the happy age of ninety-eight.

My mouth hangs open as I stare in amazement. Andrew looks pretty shook up as well. Happy, but in awe. "Did- did you just feel that?" He blushes and bites his lip. I slowly nod and feel my cheeks burn for no reason. "Like everything in the world just was still? Like your skin tingled from each other's touch?" He looked like he was high, stoned off of our touch.

Being the dumbsh*t I am, I pull of my glove and lightly set my bare hand on his cheek. The effect is immediate and the same feeling of euphoria washes over my body. Andy's touch is good. His soft skin brings warmth and love.

Andy's soft hand lays over my own and he leans into my touch. "See? I told you that we were soul mates."

Still in shock, I say nothing. Even when we exit the ride, I'm mute. When we sit cuddled under a tree while we wait until we leave, I keep my mouth shut. When we're in the car, I'm as quiet as a mouse. When Loonie asks me if I had a fun time, I stay silent.

The whole time, I gaze at Andrew with wide eyes, my lips parted, and my hand in his.

~*~*~

"You okay, Dakota?" Andy draws random patterns on my hand. I shake my head 'no' and tears well up in my eyes. Wait, why am I crying? Suck it up and move on!

Then again, he is the only person whose touches feel like heaven. Andy's like my drug. Every time he has to pull away his hand to pick something up or go to the bathroom, I start to hyperventilate and my hands shake.

"Why are you so afraid to let go of my hand?" Andy asks in a gentle voice. "Not that I'm complaining or anything, but I still have to go pee and it's a little awkward with you in the same room... holding my hand."

"It doesn't hurt to touch you; I don't want to loose that." I say automatically, cursing my words for giving myself away.

Andy laces his fingers between mine. "Why does it hurt to touch other people?"

I answer honestly, "I don't know why. I never asked for it to happen."

"Then how does it hurt? What happens when you touch someone?"

I squeeze my eyes shut and clutch his hand tighter. "I don't really want to talk about it now. Can we please just do something else?" I plead as I look anywhere but his eyes.

I'm at Loonie's house- well, my house now too- and Andy's sleeping over apparently. So far all we've done is lay in my bed and stare at each other. I know Andy's getting a little creeped out by me, but pfft. No f*cks are given today.

Loonie's head pops in and says, "I'm going to hit the sack, babies. Use a rubber and be quiet. G'night!"

We both blush hardcore and an awkward silence settles over us. Suddenly I realize, we don't know anything about each other. I turn to face Andy again as suggest, "Question game?" Me and Lucy used to play it all the time.

"Sure! I'll start. Favorite color?"

"Gray."

"Red. Any special talents? Like are you double jointed or something?"

I mutter, "Oh, it's special alright...." then say loudly, "No, I'm not double jointed."

"I am, in my shoulder!" He pulls down his shirt a little (yum) and shows me.

"Sick," I say appreciatively, "I wish I was double jointed."

He grins and asks, "What's your last name? Like, real last name?"

"Grinn." I murmur.

"That's so cool! I wish I had an awesome last name, instead of stupid Nemeth. What's your favorite band or song?"

I smirk, "Too hard to choose."

"Yeah, you're right." Andy smiles back. "Do you play any instruments?"

"Nope." I pop the 'p'.

"I play piano. What's your darkest secret?"

"Th-" I pause, "The reason I was abandoned." I probably should've lied.

"I have a sixth sense," Andy whispers, his light gray eyes bright, searching for my reaction. "I'll elaborate what it is if you tell me exactly what your 'reason' was."

I shake my head 'no'. "Perhaps another day. I've never really told anybody other than my parents."

Andy looks a little disappointed, but gives an understanding nod. "I've never told anybody about what I can do either."

I scrunch my eyebrows together. What can he do? What's his big-bad secret?

He sighs and pulls my body closer to his. "How about I give you a deal? I'll tell you, for a kiss."

Andy's cheeks redden at his own request, but he still looks confident. "Fine," I whisper before touching my lips to his. Our mouths mold together and the constant electrifying feeling rolls between my body and his. My slight shyness is gone and I groan appreciatively in Andy's mouth. We kiss harder and faster, with some unknown hunger. He licks my bottom lip and I open my mouth on instinct.

His tongue slides past my lips and tangles with my own. I quiver in pure bliss of his touch, his kiss, Andy. I fight back with my own tongue and invade his hot mouth, caressing and tasting every crevice. Before we go any further, however, he pulls away.

"I sense bad things before they happen. It's usually a small tickle on the back of my neck and the feeling of dread or sorrow. That's why most people say I'm a little moody; I'm generally happy person, but I get cranky or depressing when something bad is about to happen."

I just stare back at him.

"That's how I knew you were special. When I first was you trying to feel up a bush," he snickers, "I felt this pull towards you. Instead of a depressing feeling, I felt love and joy. I don't know what you did to me, but I can't get enough. In the insightful words of Edward Cullen, 'you are my own personal brand of heroine'."

I smile and rest my head on top of his. Once I'm sure he's asleep, I bring my iPod outside and sit in the warm summer night breeze. I put my earphones in and softly play All Cats Are Grey by The Cure. This song always helps me think and relax.

Sure, Andy helps me relax too, but all I think about around him is either crying/cuddling or jumping his bones. Neither I think he'd enjoy while he's trying to sleep. I let my head fall back on my chair as I stare up at the night sky above. Through many black trees, the moon comes through crisp and clear. It's almost a full moon and the Milky Way is swirled opposite it.

It amazes me how clear the sky is. Usually in cities or towns the stars are masked by smog and city lights. I bite my lip and let The Cure pulse through my head.

In the caves

All cats are grey

In the caves

The texture coats my skin

In the death cell

A single note

Rings on and on and on

My eyes snap open and I slowly sit straight up. Andy could be the same as anyone else. Maybe what I saw was a lie. Not his Number, those are always right, but how I was there with him. I'm the same as anyone else. I have a death date, a Number.

And it wouldn't be a happy one either. How could I feel love and peace after feeling so much death? That just proves that I'm not supposed to be alive when Andy dies; it's just not my fate.

I won't complain or b*tch about my life. I know I can't change it. The only thing I do find unfair is that I find the one person that makes me happy(ish), yet he can't stop my ability completely. I have to leave him eventually, for everyone does. I'm not meant to live with this curse, yet I'm prolonging it. Why? Everyone would get over me if I suddenly disappeared. Hell, most people would be happy!

We're all the same when you take away appearances. There's envy, lust, sloth, gluttony, rage, pride, and greed. Every action and every reaction is fueled by at least an ounce of one of these seven deadly sins. The world's a pretty f*cked up place.

I quit ranting random sh*t and go back into my foster home. I curl up next to Andy and soak in his presence. He snuggles into my chest and I let his low breathing lull me to sleep.

Six more days.

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