The Impossible (Book 1 of the Impossible trilogy)

Prologue

My name is Fiera. Fiera Joan Cloak.

Right now I'm stuck in a not-so-good situation. Im being chased after by this group called the D.O.E.I. Weird name, huh? It's not so funny once you know what it stands for. Destroyer Of Enemy Impossible. Yeah, I'm in deep trouble. Don't ask me why. I'm still not for sure whats all going on. All I know is that, based on there title, there not chasing after me just to have a little "civilized" talk. Right now my life is spiraling into something I'm not to thrilled about.

. . . . . .

This is a summary of my life before the paranormal began. My real parents were kidnapped when I was only just a baby. The police got a call that a baby was in a car, a gray, Pontiac Grand Prix, without any adult claiming me. When the police arrived, they put in the report that there was obvious signs of a struggle. They investigated, but found no owner for the car or any finger prints to show ownership. Whoever took my parents had obviously had a lot of practice in kidnapping people. Heck, I still don't know to this day if they just kidnapped my parents or...........well you know the alternative, but back to my story.

This left me with no family to be claimed by, so I went into foster care. I stayed in foster care till I was four. LONELIEST years of my life. Of course, my tendency to stray away from other kids didn't help the matter either. Though all that changed when, out-of-the-blue, a family of three adopted me. The family's last name was Cloak. John and Carrie Cloak. They had a son named Joshua, but everyone called him Josh. He was a black haired, blue eyed, annoying six year old boy who would tease me until I would force it to stop by slamming a door in his face. At first I thought it was for ill intentions, Josh's constant teasing, but later I learned it was out of good humor. To show that I was accepted into the family. Finally, after almost a year, I started to feel like I belonged.

I was the happiest I'd ever been in forever, yet life still threw curves at me as if to say "hello-o, we're not finished here." When I was six and my brother eight, Josh was kidnapped right off the front lawn of our school. For years, I had guilt because I wasn't there to watch my brothers back. Instead of being with him, I was sick at the doctors office with my mom. If we wouldn't have been late picking him up because of me, then Josh would have been home safe and sound. My parents tried to persuade me otherwise, but I just had this strong feeling that it was all my fault. Like the kidnapping was actually meant for me.

Days went by. The days became weeks, weeks became months and so on and so forth, but there was no news of my brother. After a while, life started to go back to normal. Well, as normal as it could possibly be, and I started to live as happy as I could.

Until one day it all went spiraling down.......(sigh) again!