Good, Evil, and the Gray Area (FIRST DRAFT)

Chapter 1: I lose control (not a surprise).

This is my first story, so please comment on anything! mistakes, what you like, whatever. thanks:)

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The three men stood, two tall, one short, backs to me, staring at the body. I stood quietly, staring. The relief I had felt when I had learned that this man was dead was gone, replaced by a dull hopelessness that throbbed inside me. The room was dim, only the fire lit it. It was night, and yet the men had neglected to turn on the lights. Snow fell softly outside, muffling all normal background noises. The silence was a tangible thing, reaching out hands to cup over my ears, admitting no sound.

Even the men seemed to notice, starting to shuffle their feet. Then they started to whisper among themselves.

I stood, ever motionless, ever silent. My face didn't show it, but the sound of the men talking was a relief.

I dug my bare toes into the thick rug and watched, waiting for one to turn and and address me.

Finally, the time came. The short man, dressed in a suit like the others, turned. He stared at me like he had stared at the body, pale eyes cold and unfeeling.

I shuffled nervously, but stared back, not willing to back down.

Finally, he spoke.

"Your name?" he asked. His voice was as cold as his eyes, and just as unfriendly.

"Lee," I told him.

"I expected a last name as well," he replied stonily. But I could tell he was getting angry.

"It's just Lee,"

"Is this not your caretaker?" he asked, gesturing toward the glass topped coffin.

I had avoided looking at it until now. The wood was dark. Oak, maybe. The grain was prominent. A thick pane of glass covered the top. I didn't look inside.

"He was my caretaker, but not much of one," I spat, staring at him, my gaze now just as cold. If looks could kill.

"You didn't take his name?" the man said angrily.

"No," I countered stonily.

"It says here that your last name is Wilston," he said, his pale cheeks coloring. I was getting under his skin.

"Yes, it probably does," I said.

"So you took his name,"

"No,"

You don't need to hear the entire argument, and we went on like that for some time, so lets skip it and move on. 

He got louder and louder and angrier and angrier.

Finally, his face was beet red and he looked about to explode.

"Impudent girl! Just go!" He yelled at last, but I stayed put.

One of the other men turned around.

"Really, McWalwen. Let me handle this,"

The short man, apparently McWalwen, stepped back, glowering steadily at me. I gave him my most winning smile.

His patience snapped, and he lunged forward. A mistake. I grabbed him by the arm and used his momentum to swing him off balance. He fell to the floor with a thump, and my foot was on his chest.

"Really?" I hissed, my eyes slits.It was then that I lost control.

Smoke curled from my fingertips, and then fire.

I spat beside him, then spoke again.

"Is that the best you can do? I expected a challenge."

Fire erupted around me. I was in the center of a swirling vortex, the eye of the storm.

Then, everything went black.