Magi Chronicles - 1. Chapter 1

I could feel it I was about to die, I had run my mouth just one too many times. Now it was all about to be over. My blood sat in pools around my body. I never thought I would die this way, for I always dreamed that I would one day run away. I had always thought that I would have successes where all the others had failed. They ha taken my body and though away somewhere far away form the house. Somewhere were it would not draw any attention to them.

The sound of boots on gravel drew my attention. The steps came slowly and measured as if the person had no care in the world. I saw shiny black boots stop in front of me, not a drop of my blood upon them, which I fond strange since the person was standing right in it.

”Would you like to live young one?” The man’s voice was strong and full of sadness. “If I told you that I could save you would you want me too?”

I opened my mouth but I could not make the words come out. I want to say yes save me I don’t want to die but I could find the strength to do so. I fought to say something to give myself the chance to continue to live. I saw a chance for a way out and I wanted to reach out and take it with all my might.

My dreads were not easy ones, not like they ever were. I remembered things that night that I hoped would be lucked up forever. My childhood was not an easy one but then what orphan ever has an easy childhood. I was born inside an orphanage, my mother had sought shelter their when for she had nowhere else to go, or so the story goes. She died giving birth to me, never even told the people in charge her name. All I have left of her is a necklace, gold chain holding a solid silver square amulet. On the front was a deep blue crescent moon sitting on a blood red suns rays. On the opposite side was a brown lion with a light blue eagle sitting on its head.

I was always told that with her last breath my mother named me Xavier and died before she could say a last name. I stayed in that foster home into the age of nine. Weird things always seemed to happen wherever I was at and the head lady got tired of it. I was born in Ohio and was sent to an orphanage in California it was there that it all started.

Everything for me changed when I was adopted for the first time and it set down a pattern for every time after. A high-class white family adopted me; they would show me off at party and buy me nice things. They wanted to show their friends that they had token in a poor helpless black child. The women seemed to be a very nice lady who actually cared she, she keep trying to get me to call her mama. The husband however was very distant and at odd times I would catch him staring at me, then I learned why he was always staring at me. It happened one night while his wife was away at some function or another. He came creeping into my room and held me down as he took his pleasure from me. I will never forget him, or the fact that I stabbed with a knife the next morning.

After that I was moved around from foster home to foster home. I learned to always sleep with a knife or something sharp under my pillow. After that it was always the same old thing. Every home I went to the husband tried to use me in that way. I made a name for myself as a bad ass. That of a killer and a very troubled kid, for no one believed me so I had to find a way to protect myself. By the time I was twelve no one would adopt me and I had been to more then ten orphanages, all in different cities around the U.S. I acted so well that I actually became that person. I stopped caring and really did flip out over the smallest of things. I starting growing dreads thinking they were cool got piercings and tattoos. I went the whole nine yards and didn’t look back.

At the age of 15 I ran away while living in California, for a while everything was great. I lived on my own, did what I want, and had no one to tell me what to do. That’s when I met up with HIM. At first he was nice and took care of me, I never really trusted him. Some how he got me to strip, I made great money for doing something I was good at dancing. Then I started to go-go dance at gay bars. By that time I had came into terms with me being gay and it wasn’t even a big thing.

Then the sex started, it started out as it being a favor for him. In truth I was a slut on my own. I went home with a new piece of meat every night. One friend led to two, which lead to eight. Before I could relieve what was going on he had me locked up in a house all day and only being let out to dance and to be fucked. I lived like that into I was eighteen, I was the best and everyone wanted a piece of me. I know there was no chance that he was going to let me leave. I was too much of a commodity, too much of a cash cow.

So one night I got him drunk and I snuck out. I stole one of my favorite cars a red 2010 mustang and I flew down the street. It turns out he had tracking devices in all his cars. He showed up at the hotel I was staying in with like twelve of his thugs. I fought back; I was tired of that life, and ended up getting my assed whooped. Even after the beating I wasn’t going to lie down easily! So I got back up and fought some more, then I was cut. He stood over me with a knife in his hand watching as I bleed out. He had the craziest look in his eyes. They wrapped up my body and throw it in an alley far away form the hotel. I was some how able to get out of the sheets and know here I am. Bloody and beaten half to death: looking Death in the face in fact.

“Y…. E…S.” I choked out between breaths. “Yes… I … w…. a…. n…. t… to…. Li…. ve.”

“Sleep my young one and wake to a better world.” His silk voice enchanted me to sleep. His arms wrapped around my waist and I was lifted off the ground easily. He smelled of cinnamon apples. The last thing I remember before I sleep into nothingness was wind flowing trough my dreads. And the feeling of something sharp was being pushed into my neck.