Disclaimer: I don't own Mediator series or anything

A/N: First attempt at writing something that might not be a oneshot. Tell me what you think of it.

::Prologue::

"No mummy! Don't!!" screamed the little girl, tears streaming down her face.

"Don't worry dear," murmured a woman, smiling gently while holding a gun to the girl's head.

The girl struggled furiously but the rope binding her arms and legs held fast and she couldn't move.

"it will be okay sweetie," the woman whispered and she pulled the trigger. The girl stopped moving and one last tear made its way down her small cheek.

The woman kissed the girl tenderly, smiling faintly, and held the gun to her own head. She looked at the picture one last time.

"Everything will be okay."

Chapter One

The bell rang loudly at the Junipero Sierra Mission Academy. I yawned and gathered my books, getting ready to go to English class. Sigh. School was always oh so boring. Bleh.. Paul is in my English class. Which was next. Sigh.

I walked nonchalantly to the classroom and took my seat, which just happened to be in front of Paul Slater's. He smirked. "Hey Suze."

"Hey," I grumbled and sat down. I opened my binder and pulled out The Scarlet Letter. We were reading it in class. The late bell rang as the teacher walked through the door.

"Good morning class," he greeted. "Today you'll be answering this question about last night's reading. Describe Chillingworth's "revenge." Why does he choose to torture Dimmesdale and Hester when he could simply reveal that he is Hester's husband? What does this imply about justice? About evil? Please get into groups of two to discuss your answers."

I groaned inwardly. What is with this teacher and groups of two? Almost everyday, we do group work and we always have to work in pairs. Of course, just my luck, Paul is my partner. Sigh. I turned my desk to face his.

Paul grinned. "Oh darn, Suze," he said mockingly. "Guess we'll be answering another question again for another 5 minutes and arguing for the other 40."

"Don't rub it in Slater," I said. He was wrong though. We argued for 45 minutes and didn't even answer the question. The bell rang and I headed out of the classroom on to my next class.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully and much more quickly, since CeeCee and Adam were in most of my classes. After school was over, the three of us headed over to the Coffee Clutch, like we usually do. The three of us ordered cappuccinos and sat down at a table.

"So Suze," said CeeCee. "Why were you so quiet today?"

"I don't know," I said dully. "I guess seeing Paul just ruins my day. And to think that I'll have to spend the rest of the year seeing him is kind of depressing too."

The two of them smiled sympathetically. "Hey, at least you only have one class with him," Adam pointed out. "It's better than being in every class with him."

"I guess," I admitted. We chatted for another hour or so and Adam dropped me off at my house. "See ya tomorrow," I said and walked to my house. As I fished around in my pockets to find my house keys, I glanced across the streets. There was a little girl, transparent and looking scared, holding a bloodstained doll. The girl's dress had blood on it too. I walked over to her.

"Hi there," I said cautiously. "Do you need help?"

The girl gazed at me. "I want my mommy," she said sadly.

"Well, she's not here right now," I said carefully. "What's your name?"

She whispered something in a low voice. "I'm sorry," I said, "Can you tell me your name?"

"My name is Irissa," she said in a barely audible voice. She clutched her doll tightly.

"Okay Irissa. Can you tell me what happened to you," I asked gently. "I can try to help you."

She didn't say anything but stared at her shoes. It began to drizzle. "Why don't you come to my house," I suggested. "You can tell me what happened there."

Irissa nodded. "Okay," she said and I led her to my house.

We went to my room. I put my books on the floor and motioned for Irissa to sit on my bed.

"What happened to your doll?," I asked.

She looked puzzled and examined her doll with horror. "Kisa!" she cried. She looked at the doll sadly. "He made mommy do it," she said quietly. "He made mommy hurt us."

I widened my eyes in surprise. "Who did?" I asked curiously.

Irissa's face hardened. "I'm going to kill him," she said in a deadly voice. "I swear I will."

There was a silence. "So Irissa," I began uncomfortably. "Who gave you Kisa?"

Her face cleared quickly and looked innocent. "Mommy did. Mommy always gives me things. Because mommy loves me." She smiled happily.

I suppressed a shudder and looked at her pale grey eyes that had been oh so cold a few seconds ago.

A/N: How was that? Should I continue or quit? Please review