Rain made a quiet, calming sound as it dropped from the rooftop of the ancient building.

It had been raining for hours now. Not that I disliked the rain, I found it comforting, almost like a lullaby to a child.

Quiet, the sound of nothing, that always loomed the empty halls of this sh*** hole.

I sat on my old bed; was times like these that I would unleash all of my pain.

I would ponder over my thoughts and let my mind wander.

I ignored the sounds of the other orphans running through the building; I ignored the drumming sound of rain on my window.

The place was almost never quiet, if it wasn't a baby crying, it was two little boys fighting over a crayon.

Although I've gotten used to it over the years. I never knew life any different. I've lived here since the day I was born.

Apparently, I was just dumped into the hands of the orphanage with nothing but a note with my name on it, and a small emerald ring.

It always fit my finger, I never out grew it. This, I was happy about.

I cherished the small stone.

It was something I could hold onto, something to connect me to….well I have to idea,actually.

It never left my slender finger.

A boy, Andrew, once took it, but that only ended with him somehow stuck to the ceiling by an invisible force.

Luckily, or unluckily, depending on how you look at it, he wasn't hurt.

Ever since then, I was an outcast.

I was different, and I never denied it. The other children would never come near me; something about me told them to keep a safe distance.

After a while, I was labeled the 'freak'.

Solely because I was different.

It didn't particularly bother me so much, being a loner.

I could be by myself, and dive into a world of knowledge and fantasying books.

Within these books I could travel places others cannot, go to the ends of the earth, and fill my head with new ideas and pieces of information.

Knowledge was power.

And power, was like my addiction.

After a while I began to control my powers, and find out I was a witch on my own.

At 11 years old, I discovered Diagon alley.

It all started with me running away from the orphanage, then the night bus found me, and well, the rest is for another time.

It was just about the happiest moment of my life.

I was told that both of my parents died in a car crash, but I wasn't completely convinced.

I did some research on my last name.

Unfortunately I didn't find much.

Only that my grandparents were murdered and my uncle was the one to blame.

My father was tom marvolo riddle, but I haven't been able to find his whereabouts.

I did,however peer into 's school record's once and found that the same tom marvolo riddle had grown up in this very same orphanage.

I consided him to be dead, or at least he should be for leaving me here.

It's disturbing and aggrovating, not knowing who you are.

What are my parents like?

Are they nice?

Do I look like my mom?

Is she dead?

These questions would continuously run through my head day after day.

They haunted me, followed me in my dreams and down the street.

I've been searching for myself my whole life, looking everywhere to retrieve what I'm like.

I've searched to the ends of the earth and back looking for that tad bit of information that I've been itching to know.

I'm aware that there's something about me, something I feel is vital to know.

It's like reading a book with half of the pages ripped out.

And as time went on, the tears that I had so carefully stitched up were opening back up one by one.

The people all around me were tugging at the ends and pulling them apart, slowly ripping the seams and digging deeper cuts.

I tried healing them, pulling myself back together, but the scars that were left behind were a nagging reminder of what I was destined to be.

Who I was expected to become.

I never deserved any of the cuts that people left on me. (These cuts were mentally, not physically of course.)

But I was helpless, so I stood there and let people rip me apart and plant seeds in my head.

Everyone seemed like they were out to get me, to manipulate me into their little toy soldier.

After all, I was Salazar slytherins heir, I was lady black, and I was the devils child.

Almost my whole life I searched for my family, or something to tell me a little more about myself.

I felt lost inside my own body, I tryed to climb to the surface, but the darkness, kept pulling me back in.

it dragged me back down and beneath the surface, were I was suffocated.

Gasping and choking for help and sanity.

I would scream out for help, but people would just turn their cheeks and point their fingers.

They would say "yup, It,shes just like them."

They would pour salt in my wounds and watch me struggle trying to ease the pain, just so they can see me fall.

Instead of helping me, instead of showing me the right way, they would just probe me further.

Give me more reasons to be angry, more reasons to embrace the darkness within me.

Every time I finally got to my feet, I was shoved back down by the hateful stares, by the mocking.

I hated it, I wanted to scream.

But I couldn't, if I screamed, if I lost my cool, I would prove everyone right about me.

And I just couldn't let them have that satisfaction.

But I couldn't hold it in; I was like a time bomb ready to go off.

I had no one to talk to; no one to understand what it was like.

So either way, the results would be futile.

I had to be the most confused person on the planet.

My life was anything but simple.

From the people that I knew followed me were ever I go, to the pull between dark and light, and all the way down to being a child of an evil so dark, his name is feared by all.

"CCCCEEELLLINNAA." I winced at the high pitched octaves ringing in my ears.

I sighed and looked straight at jasmine.

She stood in my doorframe, her large figure taking up pretty much the whole thing.

I raised an eyebrow at her, waiting for her annoying voice to release equally as annoying words.

The tense silence between us was only filled by her repetitive popping sounds of the bubbles she blew.

"So what's the little gothic bitch doing today?" she said as she crossed her fat arms.

I was ready to jump at her, but I composed myself with my uncanny sense of collective control.

I wasn't gothic just because I was pale and had jet black hair.

"What the hell do you want jasmine, cause I don't have time for your trivial bullshit."

She cocked her head to the side and stepped in my room, almost acting as if it was a surprise that I would stand up to her.

Jasmine and I had been fighting since we were children.

We were friends at one time, but they were defiantly over with.

Personally I think she was jealous that I stayed beautiful and skinny while she became stubby and fat.

All the boys practically drooled when I walked by, but I ignored it and kept my head high, I didn't have time for boyfriend drama.

All the boys at the orphanage were either ugly or immature anyways.

Plus, something inside of me told me not to associate with them, as if someone I knew would displeased with me.

There was always a voice floating in the back of my head telling me that I was too good for them, and so I listened to it.

I felt a hard shove on my left shoulder.

My jet black eyes instantly shot into hers.

I came out of my thoughts and stood up to her, but I was a few inches taller.

I faintly noticed that her two friends were standing in back of her.

"Don't touch me." I practically hissed.

She took one look into my dark eyes and took a step back.

People had told me that my eyes were very unsettling, but I paid no attention to such nonsense comments.

Eyes are eyes right?

She collected herself and looked at me once more, I saw anger flash through her eyes, I knew that I fight was soon to erupt.

"I'll do whatever the hell I want." She said back in a very ghetto like accent, which I noticed, matched her skin tone.

I gracefully walked towards her, but being all too aware that I was holding a deadly like aura around me.

Her eyes never left mine as she began to back away, I knew she was trying to show confidence, but I could see right through the façade.

I had a certain effect on people, an effect that scares them right to the bone.

"Oh little gothic girls gonna do somethin'? whata gonna do, huh? Gonna try to fight me?" she said, egging me on.

I stopped right in front of her, wearing a calm expression on my face, although I knew the fire in my eyes was evident.

"No, im going to ask you to please leave my room or I will have to forcefully remove you." I said calmly.

She laughed in my face, and was about to say something, but I didn't give her the chance.

With a simple twitch of my finger, she and her two little goons went flying out the door and into the hallway with a loud crash.

I let a small, deadly smile play on my lips.

I had to admit that I was a bit sadistic; it was all to fun to cause her the utmost pain.

I walked to my doorframe and looked at a very shocked jasmine.

Her Grosse body made a large dent in the ancient walls.

"Have a nice day." I said, closing my door and locking it.

I had just given the orphanage another reason to label me as a freak.

But with the label, came the fear.

Which came respect.

I thrived on that feeling,the feeling of power and control of those beneath me.

No one dared to mess with me, expect the occasional jasmine, which was more dimwitted then a rock.

Between my black belt in karate, combined with gymnastics, dance, yoga, and magic, I was unstoppable.

I was dangerous.