Death. Sorrow. Love. Did any of it really matter? I used to believe in all of the things my mother told me about people...about how you could always find good in someone. She was wrong. The truth was that you could always find evil. Everyone had it. Even I did. Even she did... It didn't matter anymore. I tried not to think about what had just happened...tried not to think about those monsters who had torn my life apart. They ruined everything...and I couldn't do a thing about it. I just watched as they beat my mother and sister, watched as they dragged the both of them off into a metal box and locked them in...and I lost it. I can't entirely remember what happened, but a woman had jammed a needle into my arm, sending an incredible amount of energy into my body. I could feel it running through my blood, tearing at my skin, burning. I had screamed in pain, the energy pulling at my hair and ripping at my organs. But then it was gone. I could tell I was no longer me, but it didn't seem to matter. In an instant they were all dead, their bodies strewn all over the street. A wave of satisfaction rolled over me, and I was pleased that all of the evil men had been slaughtered. It wasn't until after that I realized they weren't the only ones I had killed.

I found the bodies of my mother and sister a couple blocks down, their faces blank and pale. In the state I was in, it barely fazed me. They didn't matter. No one mattered. Those words echoed through my brain, and even though I knew they were wrong, I couldn't get rid of them. It took me a while to notice that their was a large pair of black wings that had grown on my back, the feathers blowing slightly in the wind. I didn't know what I had become. Evil? Maybe. I had wandered back into my house, somewhat disappointed that the once tidy space was now ruined. Many of the furniture had been thrown to the edges of the room, and the wallpaper had been ripped to shreds. The only light was coming from a small lamp in the kitchen, which was flickering. I ventured to my room and looked at the mirror on my wall, a large crack running down it. That was where my head had hit when the men had thrown me away from my mother. My blood had stained the glass, but I could still see my reflection. My usually long black hair had turned a shockingly bright white, and now stretched all the way down to my feet. My chocolate brown eyes had turned a bright pinkish color, and my skin had gone from a light tan to chalky white. It was horrifying. At the sight of myself everything started to fall apart. My hair faded back to black, but kept its long length, but my eyes didn't change. My skin tone stayed the same as well, but my mind started to come back to me. All of the things I had done...it was suddenly so present. I wanted to cry and scream until I died, but I simply stayed silent and stared at my changed self in the mirror. This was who I was now...and I could do nothing about it. My mother and sister were gone...and I was alone. There was only one thing I could think of doing...one thing that had the potential to restore what honor I had left. I had to find those men that caused this, and end them. Inside I knew I couldn't do it alone, but I had to try. I found a hair tie in one of the drawers and put my hair up, hoping to keep it somewhat contained. I had long hair before, but this seemed ridiculous.

I didn't take many things with me when I left the house, just a small sack which I filled with the spare money I had found in the house, a couple hair ties, a lighter, a first aid kit, a bottle of water, a pocket knife, and one of my mother's gold hair pins. I knew I would have to find someplace to eat soon, and I hoped I had a sufficient amount of money to get me enough to last for a couple of days. I could find a job somewhere and work for a while, plotting my revenge.

It had begun to rain after an hour of walking, and I cursed myself for not bringing an umbrella with me. The rain soaked my long hair and clothes, which were still bloody and torn from earlier. I knew I should have changed to something besides shorts and a tee shirt, but that didn't seem important at the time. It had been about two hours before I found a small diner on the edge of town, which to my surprise, and pleasure, was still open. It had to be two in the morning by now. I walked in silently and sat at a table by the window, getting a couple of wandering looks from the grungy looking men who sat at the bar. I was sure I looked like a train wreck, but I didn't care. They didn't know what I had gone through. They had no right to judge. I young looking waitress came to my table and smiled at me, pulling out a pen and a pad of paper.

"What can I get you ma'am?" she asked politely, her sweet voice almost sickening to listen to. I didn't deserve such kindness, but I didn't mention my self hatred.
"Just fries please..." I said slowly, knowing I didn't have enough money for a real meal.

"Anything else?" She looked me over a couple times, and I could tell it was hard for her not to say something about my appearance.
"No thank you." I rested my eyes on my hands and refused to look at her, hoping I didn't come off rude. I didn't have the heart to look at her.

"Okay...I'll have it out soon." She bowed and scurried off to the kitchen, leaving me in silence. Well, not complete silence. The grungy men at the bar were still staring at me and mumbling, sending chills down my spine. I was going to be in real danger if I didn't leave this place as soon as possible. The woman came back out from the kitchen, setting a plate of fries in front of me.

"The ketchup is on the table dear." she commented, straightening out her apron. "Oh and one more thing...are you okay? You look a little...worn out." I appreciated her understatement and met her eyes for a moment, forcing a smile.

"Thank you for your concern, but I'm fine." I said quietly, dropping my eyes once again and focusing in on my food.

"Well okay...tell me if you need anything." She gave me a look of concern and then walked back to the kitchen, the door making a soft swishing sound as it closed. I eyed my food, not sure if I could eat. I felt so sick, but I knew I had to eat something to keep going. I found the ketchup bottle and squeezed some onto my plate, setting it back down slowly. I picked up a single fry and dipped it in the ketchup, then chewing it slowly. It tasted like cardboard. I reluctantly ate another fry, my hands beginning to shake. The men's voices were getting louder, their words ringing in my ears. She's small, we could take her. Maybe she'll come if we pay her. Her clothes are already half gone. I shivered as their mumbled laughter got louder and louder.

I finished my last fry and stood up quickly, not bothering to push in my chair. I lowered my head and walked towards the door, watching my feet move briskly across the wood floor. I was only a couple feet from the door when a firm hand grabbed a hold of my shoulder and yanked me backwards onto the ground. My head hit hard against the wood, and I let out a muffled groan. I was still extremely weak from my scene earlier, and I new I had no energy left to fight these men. I squeezed my eyes shut and prepared for the worst as the man's rough hands grabbed me by the shirt, tugging me upwards. The smell of cigarette smoke was blown onto my face as the man held me there, chuckling darkly.

"I'm not afraid of you." I said confidently, even though inside I was petrified. I opened my eyes slowly and looked at the mans face, which was dangerously close to mine. He had wrinkles under his eyes and around the corners of his face, his brown eyes cold as he looked at me.

"Well that's a shame. The scared ones are more fun." He chuckled again and pulled my face closer, his lips meeting mine. I tensed and brought my fist up, slamming it against the side of his head. It didn't seem to faze him. He pulled away and laughed again, shouting to his nearby friends, "We got a feisty one on our hands!" He tightened his grip on my arm, starting to cut off the circulation. My fingers went numb.

"Let go of me!" I screamed in his face, my voice hoarse. I was so weak. He reached forward and grabbed a wad of my hair, tugging hard. I screamed in pain as tears sprang to my eyes. I started to beg. "Please! Let go of me! Please!" The tears were rolling down my face now, and I was unable to fight any longer. My body began to fall limp from exhaustion. The man knew he had won, and a satisfied look came over his face.

"Good girl..." he mumbled, keeping hold of my hair. I looked at him pleadingly, even though it was no use. He would probably kill me when he was done with me, and somewhere inside of me, that was okay. I was a murderer, and I deserved to be treated this way. He began to hoist me onto his shoulder when he let out a muffled grumble in pain. My eyes flicked toward him in surprise, and his rough hands went limp. I caught myself before I fell to the ground and looked up at him, examining what had happened. His eyes stared blankly towards the ceiling as he crumpled to the ground, blood soaking through his shirt. I watched him with fear and then stood slowly, my eyes darting around the room. The other men had run from the scene, and only the scared waitress was present, clutching a serving tray to her chest. Had I done that? I looked back at the dead man and backed up a couple steps, running into something.

"Are you okay?" Fear coursed through me as I spun around, facing an extremely tall man who I didn't see standing there before. He had black hair that reached as far as mine had before I had changed. His eyes were a golden red, and he wore a tattered red cape. My breath caught as I looked up at him.

"Fine." I lied, barely able to speak. "D-did you..." I glanced towards the man sprawled on the floor and then back. He nodded slightly. I relaxed a bit, grateful that he had saved me, yet still on edge from his intimidating appearance. "Thank you."

"What are you doing here alone this late at night? Especially here...those pigs..." He glared at the man and then met my eyes again. "And you're so young. How old are you? Sixteen?"

"Nineteen" I corrected him, bitter that he thought I was younger then I was.

"My apologies. What is a nineteen year old girl doing out this late?" I was a bit peeved that he was acting so fatherly towards me, and I crossed my arms.
"That's none of your business."

"Aren't your parents worried?" Parents...I struggled to keep the tears away as I shook my head, unable to talk. The look on the man's face softened a bit as he realized he had hit a soft spot. "I'm sorry." he said quietly, sitting down at a nearby table. He motioned across the table to the other chair, and I cautiously sat. He laced his fingers together and rested his chin on his hands, watching me. I looked at him nervously, wondering if I had enough strength to run away. After a couple seconds of staggered breathing, I decided I couldn't.

"So, um, thanks again. But I really should be going." I said confidently, standing up. He gave me a stern look, and I abruptly sat back down.

"What is your name?" He gave me a quick once over and then met my eyes again. My name is Miki Neokuzashi. But that wasn't me anymore. I was no longer fun, shy Miki. I was someone different. I remembered my reflection in the mirror, and my strange purple eyes.

"Violet. Violet Neokuzashi." It felt weird calling myself something different, but the new name seemed right. "And who, may I ask, are you?"

"Vincent Valentine."