The Last Has Fallen

The night I died, the night was cold, icy, and snowy. The storm that made it so cold and since ceased to move, dropping more and more icy sleet. The cold was unbelievable as I drew my last breath. A loan wolf, I'm sure was Black Stars primal cry, howled in the distance, mourning over the loss of this great village. The cold was seeping into my soon to be forlorn body. My time had come, just after my 17th birthday.

So cold. It would be hard to believe that even though I was trapped under a burning, fallen tree, I was still cold. As I could feel the fiery darkness consuming me, I could hear the horrible sound of people screaming. Men crying because they lost their families, women crying because they couldn't find their children; children crying because they saw their parents chard bodies. They smell of burning flesh and pinewood smoke filled the air, a very disgusting smell. Kid did not know what had happened to me. He was still in a village far away, looking for a doctor for our unborn child.

The smell made me choke on the little air I could receive though my gasping breaths. I could see the ash, falling down onto my skin, mixed in with my blood and snow, I could feel it all around me, even under me. This is my story. And my ending.

One year earlier

For as long as I could remember, I was an outcast. I lived in a village of black haired, pale skinned people. I was born with ashy blonde hair, with ashy skin as well. The people of my village had yellow eyes, I had green. Many of the village people said that my momma was unfaithful, when it was really my dad. They had never blamed me for being different, they just tortured me and shunned me cruelly. They had chased her out of my village when I was young, maybe 7. I remember the tears I cried, the sweet sour taste of them casting down my face, with no mother to dry them ever again. I remember the pounding at the door, and the crowed of people holding the torches, calling her a harlot, and chasing her out without her shoes. "Momma, no! Don't take my momma!" I wanted to take her her shoes, but my dad forbid me from going after her. "Maka. No. Let her go."

I could only cover my head as the villagers kicked me while I was on the ground. This wasn't even a provoked attack, I was simply reading under my favorite tree when the boys started throwing the rocks at me. I don't even understand why they had to do this.

I was sixteen, you could think I could handle myself. No one came to my birthday last week, just like every year. Poppa tried to make me smile, but that idiot couldn't help with those women around his hips. I didn't even care. As long as I got one book, just one book each year, I could make it through the next year. This year, I two books, which really made me happy, but I wouldn't let poppa know that. I hate him.

"You're so weird!" "Who do you think you are!" "You don't belong here!" "I hate people who don't belong!" I don't get why they have to say things like that. It's not my fault that I'm different. It's not my fault they don't know I'm a demon. Momma said I can't tell anyone, because then they really would kill me. "Please... Stop... I didn't.. Do anything.." I gasped out between the kicks they gave me.

"You are such a harlot, like your mother!" One boy said. I think his name was Oxford. He wore clunky glasses. I gasped at that, knowing that was the only way that someone could hurt me. "Ox...Ford... Stop this. It's not right." The kicking stopped when I said someone's name. I really shouldn't have done that. I'm not supposed to speak of someone's name. I don't know how long they kept kicking me, but it was at least hours before they all tired out. I slowly pushed myself up on my bruised and battered arms. I coughed up blood, trying to get my lungs working.

"Are you alright miss?" I gasped as I heard a male voice echo through the grass. I slowly looked up to a boy with black hair, and fell back in fear, scooting so my back was against the tree. "Pl-please don't hurt me." I tried to get out with my weakened voice. "Now why on Earth would I hurt you?" The boy said crouching down to get eye level with me. He had the golden eyes of the villagers, so I knew he was from here. "Because you're one of them.. The villagers, they all hate me.. Please don't hurt me. I didn't do anything." I begged. I didn't think I could handle another beating. "I'm not going to hurt you. Why would I? I'm sure underneath those scratches you're very beautiful." I didn't know what he was trying to say. No one has ever tried to compliment me before. "I. I don't think I understand what you're saying.." "I'm saying I think you're differently beautiful.. Come with me to my house. We'll get you cleaned up." He offered, giving me his hand. I didn't know what I was supposed to do. No one except momma had offered me kindness, so I just stared at his hand, dumbfounded. "I... uh... S-sure." I really hope this guy won't hurt me like those guys. I guess I just want kindness so much.. Like my romance novels. He pulled me up to my feet, while he stood also. He was a good foot taller than me. Very intimidating...

"Alright miss. What is your name, if you don't mind my asking." He asked, trying to break the silence as we walked the broken road. "I-I'm Maka... Maka Albarn..." "That sounds familiar, your last name." "O-h I, uh well." "Oh well, My name is Death the Kid. You can call me Kid." "Oh... Nice to meet you Kid." Kid nodded in response. "Alright, we're here Maka. I hope you don't mind the size. It is a bit small." He said chuckling. I looked up in awe as I looked up at this awesome colonial house. It must be my house times fifty!

A.U. - Like it, hate it? Be sure to review. I'm also open to constructive criticism, as well as any mistakes I may have made.