Amnesia and Star Child

Disclaimer - I don't own Linkin Park. Nor do I own any of the E.T. things mentioned in the story, and to make it clear, I am not racist, but for the sake of the story there's abit of racism going on. Don't take offense.

As a note, all the lyrics in here are written by me.

This is the first effort at anything like this type, so don't mind if it's cruddy.

...

You shall always trust those who deserve none
For pain is only the journey to the end
Blood shall be passed for something greater
A gift more precious than you comprehend

~*~

He had come out of nowhere - his body clad in dark clothing, a logo on the back of his hoodie reading ‘Marilyn Manson’. Leila knew there was something wrong with this, she knew he was danger.
Leila was only slight; her skin was pale and her hair a true raven shade, her electric blue eyes wide and fearful as she ran.
She had come all this way to see Linkin Park perform, and it had been great - but this - this was terror.
Leila ran blindly, crashing along, her long slender legs gracing the ground quickly as she somehow found her way towards tour buses and countless cars - still she ran.
The man was in hot pursuit.
Leila charged down to a side of a building and kept going, coming out the other side and jumping through bushes and into the undergrowth of a garden.
Suddenly there was the crushing grip on her arm, and the sound of the man’s heavy breathing.
“Got you bitch.” He panted.
Leila shrieked and struggled, but he was far stronger than she was, and it wasn’t long before she was on the ground, a knife to her throat and a groping hand down her pants.
“You’re going to love this bitch... You were worth the chase.” The man grinned maliciously and undid her jeans and then his own.
Leila whimpered but kept still, fully aware the tip of the blade was ready to slice, it’s sharpened, glinting edge caressed her neck, warning her that to move or scream - to put up any resistance at all - would be fatal.
She closed her eyes and prayed it would end quickly.
Suddenly there was a sound of boot connecting flesh - a pained grunt and a scuffle.
“Get off of her! Bastard!” The voice was alien and yet familiar.
Leila opened her eyes and realized her rapist was up against a tree, struggling against someone who, despite his much slighter build, was keeping him pinned.
The knife was being fought over, strength against strength, the blade glinting in the light of the full moon.
Leila pulled her pants up and remained where she was, terror thudding in her heart.
Abruptly the knife shot from the hands of both and catapulted into the vegetation - the rapist grunted again and struggled harder, but the other fought back, leaping back and punching the rapist squarely on the nose - blood spurted everywhere.
“Leave her alone you filthy bastard - don’t you ever touch her again!” He growled aggressively. “I’m warning you. Lay one finger on any girl like that again and you will hear from me.”
The move was as swift as it was deadly - there was a cry, and the man who had attacked her was on the ground, his hands to his crotch, curled up in pain.
The final blow was a kick to the head - and judging by the grunt and silence, it had been a knock out blow.
Leila, who was panting as though it was her who had been fighting, looked up at her rescuer, intent on trying to see his shadowed features so she could thank him.
The man turned, and the labored breathing in Leila’s throat caught.
It was Mike - Mike Shinoda.
His hair was matted against his face, dyed blue and apparently freshly washed, his slight Japanese face was worn, his lip was bleeding but he didn’t seem to notice.
His taxed brown eyes softened momentarily before going cold and distant again, then without a word, Mike slipped away, silently vanishing from sight.
“Wait!” Leila cried, recovering her senses and jumping to her feet.
She hurried in the direction that Mike had taken, but by the time she reached the pavement, Mike had gone.