A/N: In light of recent events, I must ask that if you must leave a review that is inappropriate Please watch your language as some readers on the site are not old enough to hear such language, and I will now leave notes at the beginning of each story from here on out saying if the story has swearing or mature/adult themes.

P.S. There is swearing and mature/adult themes in this story.

"Look at those bruises," a male voice commented.

"Bruises? Just look at the burns." Another voice, once again male.

"You're both oblivious. Look at the cuts and whip marks." The voice was feminine this time. My abuse was apparent that much I knew, especially when it came to each mark they pointed out. However, I had no idea what the appearance of my condition was like now.

"You think she'll live? Do you think she'll be able to fly again?" The second voice once more.

"Can't fly…." I muttered, "Never learned." Even through the fog of awaking from unconsciousness I felt the need to set that much straight.

"She spoke!" I cracked open the eye not on the ground and looked at the three figures hovering over me. I lay there pitifully in a dark alleyway, curled up in a semi-ball next to a brick building, having been thrown off said building the evening before.

"Are you okay?" A yellow/green haired, amber-eyed, green scaled boy asked.

"I've been better." He offered a hand. "Can't get up. Leg's broken."

"I'll carry you," A raven-haired, green/amber eyed boy offered, "We'll be there before you know it."

"Where is 'there'?" I asked, wanting to know before I slipped into unconsciousness, which was creeping up on me once more.

"Where people like us fit in. Cirque Du Freak." So started a slow and complicated romance.

~:~:~

I am lying on a cot, leg in a make-shift cast, salve rubbed on to burned and cut parts of my body. I guess you may be wondering how I got into Cirque Du Freak. Well remember how that one boy asked if I could fly or rather if I would ever be able to again (not that I can as mentioned before)? He was making a reference to the set of bat wings sprouting from my back. I'm the "Bat Girl."

Born, seemingly, normal to a normal family, I grew up in Virginia. When I was four I developed two growths on my back. Doctors deemed it as a bone deformity. I lived with my mom and dad and sister when I was five. Mom was unhappy in her relationship with dad and was leaving with my sister, promising to come back for me only to die in a car accident. "Dad" started going downhill. It didn't help that two months after the crash I sprouted my wings. No, I mean really, I actually grew bat wings over the span of two months. My "bone deformity" was a slowly growing genetic mutation. Just another disappointment in my father's life. And so ensued drinking and resulting abuse. Beatings, burns with an iron, and recently, made to "fly" off a roof for the entertainment of his drunk friends.

Oh! I forgot to mention. My leg's not broken, just twisted a little. They said I'd be back on my feet in about a week. They also said I was lucky and would make a welcome addition to the show if I chose to stay and learned to fly of course.

"Hey! Hungry?" It was the snake boy again.

"Little bit. You gotta name?" I asked as he handed me a plate of stew.

"Evra Von." I stopped mid-bite.

"Von…?"

"Just Von," he said, a mischievous grin spread across his face.

"No one will know that if you keep trailing the end of your last name out like that, but that's a really pretty name. Evra…." He grinned.

"So what's your name?"

"Don't have one."

"No name?"

"Nine years of only being referred to as bitch will do that to you."

"Well you need a name."

"I'll let you know when I think of one. Or if I ever remember my old one." I smiled at him somewhat shyly. I had to admit it, and thought I'd never say it about a boy but, he was beautiful. Scales and all.

"What?" he asked, noticing my staring.

"Don't take it the wrong way, but you're beautiful." He laughed.

"Um… thank you?" he said and I laughed with him.

"She's awake. How's your leg?" A red headed man in a suit walked in. We met when he was helping me into the tent and cast.

"Well. Forgive me, but I don't believe I know your name, sir."

"Crepsley. Larten Crepsley. And you are?"

"Nameless as of the moment."

"Evra!" That's the raven-haired boy from before, "Come help me with the chores, slacker!" He said in a joking manner.

"That's Darren," Evra said to me, "Don't call me a slacker, Darren, I'm beautiful." He winked at me and I laughed.

"Bye," Evra said to me waving and walking away. Mr. Crepsley turned to me.

"Nameless?"

"No one's called me by my real name in years. I've had pet names and insults, but that's all."

"Hmmm…" I merely shrugged.

"I'll let you know when I have one."

"Very well," he turned to go.

"Hey, before you go, do you know any girls who can help me? I have to use the bathroom."

"I'll send someone. Good evening."

"Thank you." He left with a grand sweep of the curtain's flap, and I peered out to the campfire with many unique looking people around it, laughing and talking and eating. I waited about two minutes before two girls walked into the tent, one with a relaxed posture, a friendly smile, an inviting demeanor, brown hair, brown eyes, and a monkey tail that dragged along the ground and the other girl was the opposite. She stood about three inches taller than me – me standing at about 5' 6'' maybe – and walked like a queen. You knew she thought better of herself than of anyone else just by the slight pout of her lips, gleam of her eyes and upturn of her nose, someone who clearly thought her beauty knew no bounds. Her straight, brown hair fell just below her chin, her hands were on her hips, her skin was tan and freckled across her the bridge of her nose, and her thickly lashed, green eyes were assessing me. She glanced at me, looked disturbed, and then disinterested. I noticed something else about this beautiful girl. She had abnormally large, oddly shaped ears.

"Hi, I'm Rebecca and this is Merla," Girl 1 introduced.

"Mr. Crepsley said you needed help with something?"

"It's nice to meet you. I don't have a name, not yet. I need help getting to the bathroom."

"No name? No one gave you a name?" Rebecca said, her tone stuck between shocked and interested.

"I'm sure they did, but no one's called me by my name in years."

"Oh. Well let's get you to the bathroom. Merla help me out, please."

"No." Her tone was final. It became clear that she rarely did anything she didn't want to do and was quick to fuss, rant, or tantrum when met with an argument.

"No?"

"No." And she left, leaving Rebecca and I dumbfounded.

"Bitch," Rebecca mumbled, "Don't mind Merla, and, yes, she is usually like this: snobby, mean, and lazy."

"Don't worry about it. 'Cuz I sure won't."

"Yeah. Every family's got one, right?" We chuckled at her attempt at humor.

We walked/hobbled, a group of people sitting around the campfire, and I heard gasps of amazement, maybe at the fact I had wings or maybe their size. Furled, my wings' "thumbs" reached a few inches over my shoulder and the tips reached my butt. My wing span from tip to tip had to be at least thirteen feet. Or maybe it was my hair, reaching to my knees.

"That's the girl with no name I was telling you about. I don't think it's true though. I mean, who forgets their own name? She's lying." Merla's voice rang in my sensitive ears. Then Evra's did.

"Maybe she wasn't given one. I wasn't."