When I was born it was for the good of one horrible woman whose youth had expired. She was a witch of unsightly properties. Thin and scraggly was her hair, while her eyes had dulled to a pale grey in mid afternoon. With her powers, she seamed together the most intelligent type of patchwork doll. It was sewn with the hide of a human, holding together what once had been its organs. Its heart was that of a demon's, and its brain, an intellectual breed of elf; then comes in the ears, those in which were taken from a dying goat, and a tail from a rodent in illness. I was both male, and female. This creature became what I am today: Timmy, a boy who at one point had no name.
At the beginning of my life I learned to read. I remember the road like twists that lead me to letters and figures painted on a piece of paper, to a complete story without audible sentences. After that I figured, "Who needs ears when you can hear with your eyes?" So I barely ever spoke, for I felt it would only be wasteful in that the old hag wouldn't care to listen to me anyways, besides, my mouth was still in the process of healing, so it wouldn't really matter if I talked or not.
When I finished my learning process, which didn't take all that long, I was sent out on missions to kill. You see, the witch had given me a type of power. With the snap of my fingers I could form a blue flame, and with that flame, carve through anything I pleased. Even the toughest barriers couldn't surpass my might. However this didn't mean I became big headed about it either. I was too preoccupied in keeping myself alive, and the only way to do that was by not getting on the witch's nerves. I was her slave, caught up in her lies simply for that tiny pebble of life. She didn't feed me well. I guess she didn't feel she had to. It's not like I have to eat after all, technically I'm just one messed up zombie. But that didn't mean my stomach wouldn't still growl for some kind of morsel. Anything to ease the pains in my stomach would do. But no, I had to keep working for her no matter what. She held my life by a string, and I wasn't planning on breaking it.
After a long while of serving the witch, I began to feel my body become weaker and weaker with every passing day. I couldn't die. Only she could kill me. Still I would roam about on missions for her, collapsing and killing, killing and constantly feeling the need to die myself. I wanted to run, but if I did, she would make my heart stop. It was her that needed to die. . . her who needed to be starved and ridden of her own life. But I couldn't kill her, she made sure of that too. I couldn't touch her, because if I did, I would perish.
I didn't like the humans much. They were all so confusing. One moment they would be your best friend, the next, your mortal enemy. I couldn't treat them as equals. I had to look at them as lifeless insects, weaklings, a lower species. Even though in reality, I was the lower, a mix of beasts and goons. Not even my spirit truly belonged to me. Imagine how I felt over this turmoil. Imagine how I felt over all those waisted lives. Imagine how I felt when I knew only the witch was getting something out of it. Imagine how I felt when I knew I couldn't bare socialization. I was hurt very badly.
Months passed, years even. And with each passing week I would feel more and more alone, but then, something changed. I was sitting alone in my chambers. Around my ankle was a chain that attached to the wall. This was where I would stay when I wasn't on mission for the hag. She called it my bedroom. Not a very comfortable one surely, but it was all I had. There I would often wreak havoc, acting like some sort of beast in hopes that the woman would set me free, but of course, she only threatened my existence in general, saying that she could make a better version of myself anyway; a beast that's obedient. The only thing I was good for was serving her. I was in the middle of one of these useless fits, when I heard a series of crashes from above. It went on for hours, until finally I heard the mistress's screech. This hushed me up very quickly.
"You! Trap the witch inside that vase! The others can search the area for more findings. We don't want anymore dangers coming from this house nor its owner!" A man's voice in mid youth gave orders from upstairs. I stood frozen in place. Had they captured the witch? There was an eerie silence. I stood very still till I finally heard someone's heavy boots clopping against the staircase leading to where i had been located. It was a large man who came down, one with beastly features and spiked shoulder pads.
"Lord Koenma I found something!" The strangers voice started to bellow to the upstairs as he had spotted me. I did the only thing I could think of to defend myself, release all my power at once. The whole building would go up in blue flame.
"SOMEONE PROTECT THE PRINCE!"
"EVACUATE! EVACUATE!"
"THIS IS DANGEROUS BOYS! MOVE OUT!"
Those were the words heard within the crackle of fire and heat. I was amazed at my own abilities. If I had known that my power could break the bars that held me captive, I would have done this a long time ago. However, if that were the case I would've still died, considering if the witch is killed, then I die along with her. It's just another curse I had to bare. Now I just had to find a way to escape my own defenses. Turned out, the flames didn't affect me, so I walked forward, eyes glowing a heated white.
With every step I took towards the men in uniform, the more they would back away. I felt so empowered, like I was some kind of weapon. A monster once again. However when I passed the prince, he stood still. I looked at him through the corner of my eye, only to see him glowing blue against the intense fires. It was as though everything was in slow motion. His eyes fallowed my every movement. He never moved. I manged to go past him without inflicting any damage to his shorter body, till finally, I was out of the remains.