Ever since Chelsea was born, she was hated and abused by her own father. He would never lay a finger on her when her mother was around but whenever she out the house, Chelsea's father would lay into her. When she was a newborn he had only yelled at her, but then he started hitting her and as she grew older he would use sharp objects, such as glass bottles. But one day, Chelsea's mum came home from work early because she had been feeling ill. She walked into the house, only to discover her husband hurting their three-year-old daughter with a glass bottle. She was horrified and divorced from her husband, shutting him completely away from their lives. Chelsea hadn't heard from him for sixteen years but she cannot forget about him completely. After all, how can she when her arms are patterned with scars?

Vaughn grew up never knowing who his parents were. He had been taken in by some people who lived in the same valley as him and they told him about them. His mother had died in childbirth and his father had gone crazy with grief over her death. Even though it wasn't his fault, he blamed his son. He abandoned him and committed suicide. Vaughn felt like he never fit in. He was teased for having unusual white hair and pale violet eyes, as well as not knowing who his parents were. He quickly became anti-social, blocking people out, and he took to wearing a cowboy hat to hide his hair. But he secretly longed to have someone who would accept him.

CHELSEA'S POV:

"Are you sure, Chels? I mean, you're only nineteen. You don't have to go yet," Jake said as we stood on the dock waiting for the ferry. I turned and hugged him.

"Of course I'm sure. I've been looking for my own place for a while now and you want to go travelling so we'll be fine!" I reassured him. Jake grinned.

"I guess you're right. Good luck then Chels."

As the ferry came into the docks I picked up my bag and hugged my brother one more time. He kissed the top of my head and then I stepped onto the ferry. I waved as we moved away from the docks, away from the city.

I walked inside and looked at the number on my key. Room 263. It took me a while but I eventually found my room. I could hear a man and woman arguing in the room next to me and I wondered if they were a married couple. That made me think of the earliest memory I had: the night my mum kicked my dad out of the house.

He never said why he hated me so much. My brother thought it was because he didn't want to have a girl. Jake is six years older than me and he can remember our father more clearly than I can. Apparently I was "the spitting image".

It was just my mum, Jake and I living together in our flat. Then Jake went to University, moved out, and got a job. After he finished Uni he worked full-time, saving up money because he wanted to travel. I stayed at the flat with Mum.

One day though, my world abruptly shattered. It was just an ordinary Saturday evening, when I was seventeen. Mum and I were watching a film and then my mum fell asleep. She slept through the whole thing and when it finished I turned it off and told her I was going to bed. She didn't answer. I spoke to her more, even calling her by her name. I got no response. Then I touched her face. She was stone cold and wasn't breathing.

I managed to keep it together long enough to phone my brother and he promised to come over straight away. He was shocked but he held me and comforted me and helped me sort myself out. I lived with him after that and he got enough money to travel and I kept telling him he should go but he felt bad leaving me alone. So I started looking for my own place.

My thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a flash of lightening and a crash of thunder. I jumped up and opened the door and looked outside. Lots of other people were doing the same. An announcement came over the loudspeaker: "Could all passengers please make their way to the deck where there are lifeboats waiting."

Lifeboats. I knew what that meant. It meant that the ship was sinking or damaged. I couldn't swim a stroke. My breathing came out in gasps and I knew I had to calm down or I would start having a panic attack, which would be inappropriate at this time.

I tried to keep calm and thought positively as I grabbed my bag and walked to the deck with lots of other people. As we stepped onto the decks, I could see immediately how bad the storm was. The sky was pitch-black and it was raining heavily and the wind was icy. The sea looked black and menacing. I felt sick. I lost control of myself and my breathing came out in gasps.

"Hey, are you alright?" asked a voice that sounded familiar. I looked and saw a girl who was about my age. I shook my head.

"I can't swim," I choked out.

"Stay with us, we can swim, you'll be fine," the girl said and she brought me over to her family. We were about to get on a lifeboat when lightning struck the deck. Then everything went black.

I felt a weight pumping at my chest. I was cold, shivering all over. I didn't seem to be in water but I was soaked to the bone. I seemed to be lying on something wet and grainy.

"Are you all right? Can you hear me? Can you open your eyes?" a man's voice said. My chest was pumped one more time and I coughed, feeling water come out of my mouth as I did so. I coughed again and then I couldn't stop. My eyes flew open and the first thing I saw was an old man's shocked face. Then it smoothed out and he turned my face over to the side. I suddenly coughed up a disgusting mix of phlegm and salt water. The oldie rubbed my back gently and I tried to calm down. "Sorry," I muttered.

"It's not your fault," He smiled. "By the way, my name is Taro. What's yours?"

"Chelsea," I gasped.

I took in my surroundings. We were on a beach on some kind of island. I wanted to ask what had happened but my throat was too dry from all the salt water.

A woman suddenly came onto the beach. She had long hair that looked pink in the sunlight and a kind expression.

"Hi Dad," she said, before looking at me. "Are you alright?"

"I think so," I croaked. Boy, I needed a drink.

"Chelsea, this is my daughter Felicia. Felicia, this is Chelsea."

"Nice to meet you Chelsea," Felicia smiled.

A boy and girl walked down onto the beach. The girl looked familiar, with short pink hair and brown eyes. The boy was an inch taller with brown eyes and glasses. His hair was darker than Felicia, or the girl standing next to him.

"Chelsea, this is my son and daughter, Elliot and Natalie," Felicia said to me.

"Hi," I gasped, unable to say anything else.

Natalie came running over and knelt down beside me. "Sorry," she said, smiling a little. "I didn't think the lightning would strike the deck." I was about to ask what she was apologising for but then I realised: she was the girl who had asked if I was OK.

"I don't like the colour she's turning," Elliot said. "We should take her inside."

I suddenly realised that it was Elliot and Natalie who I had heard arguing in the room next to me, not a married couple.

Felicia and Natalie helped me stand up and Natalie handed me my bag. It had survived, thank God. Natalie put her arm around me in case she thought I would fall and they lead me to a house. They got me a drink and helped me get warm. I didn't have to worry now. I was here and I was alive.