(No Title)- help would be appreciated

Prologue

      “Jaylen! Stop! We only want to talk to you,” one of the men called.

        I kept running and didn’t reply.

        Yeah, right, I thought, you two showed up and said that my “father” sent you to collect me, you must not have done your homework or else you would have known that my father has been dead for ten years.

        I took a sharp left into the alleyway that I knew so well and darted into Lizzy’s shop before my pursuers even turned the corner. I leaned against the door, breathing hard. Lizzy was right; track really did pay off. While I was waiting for my breath to return I pressed my ear against the door and listened as their pounding footsteps faded into the distance. What creeps. They had been waiting for me as I walked out of school today and I took off before they even finished getting the first sentence out of their mouths.

        “Are you alright dear?” I turned to meet Lizzy’s familiar blue eyes tinged with worry, and her blonde locks framing her face.

        “I’m fine,” I lied. I didn’t need to worry her; she was still frazzled over mom.

        Mom.

        “It’s for the best, honey,” the female officer soothed my ten-year-old self as they hauled my screaming mother away, “Your mother’s sick and she needs help. Look on the bright side, you get to spend some time with your aunt Lizzy,” she continued on about how much fun I was going to have with my father’s sister. Lizzy, and how I could visit my mother in the hospital, but I wasn’t listening. I was eavesdropping on two nereby officers’ conversation, “Poor girl,” one officer said, then shook his head in pity, “First she loses her father in a plane crash, now her mother goes off the deep end,” his partner nodded his head in agreement, then they got in their squad car and left.

        That was the day my mother was taken to the crazy house. She had always been a bit eccentric, but it had gotten worse after my father died when I was six, just four years before my mother cracked.

        I remember that day well.

        It was a warm summer day when my mom decided that we needed to go shopping for next year’s school clothes, so we hopped in the car and drove to the small store I town. We had been sifting through the racks for a little bit when my mom stopped dead and starred across the aisle at a man who was glancing our way.

        My mother whispered a word that seemed to strike a terrible fear into her heart; she seemed so utterly terrified that even I was beginning to become afraid.

        Then she started screaming.

        “Stop that man! Stop him! He’s here to take Jaylen! He is going to take my baby! Somebody stop him please,” she cried hysterically.

        Some clerks rushed to see what the commotion was about, but when they looked to where my mother was pointing to where the man had been standing, there was no one there. He was gone. Vanished.

        I’m sure you know how it went from there.

        But that one word, that one word my mother whispered. The one that scared her so bad; it still haunts me to this day.

        Faery.