So, this one is the first time Fahrenheit actually saw Ami, he's like 16, she's 7.
Fahrenheit walked and walked, not deciding where he was going, just wandering aimlessly. Snow White was dead. He hadn't done anything to stop it. B.B. was his master now. But he didn't want to go back yet.
Where are you going? He asked himself, what are you doing?
He didn't know the answer.
Suddenly his feet stopped moving. Startled, Fahrenheit looked up. He was standing in front of an extremely large and ostentatious house. Staring at his reflection in the window, he saw that he had somehow turned into a guy that was about his own age, fifteen, with blond hair and strange silver eyes.
This is my real body, he thought. Well that was unexpected.
I feel like . . . like there's something tugging at my heart. Pulling me forward. He saw in the window, a large woman yelling at a servant.
No, not her. Somewhere else in this house.
His feet moved him around the back to a cellar window that had been left open. He was able to effortlessly swing himself down into the dungeon-like room, filled only with a couple boxes and no lights.
Why am I in here?
Suddenly, his eyes alighted upon a figure curled up on the dusty floor. Moving swiftly, he strode over and crouched beside her. It was a little girl, no more than seven year old, huddled for warmth, asleep.
Oh, Fahrenheit realized, this must be her. Snow White's daughter.
Gently, he brushed back the hair from her face. She really didn't look at all like her mother. But . . . she was beautiful. That was the only way to describe it. Absolutely radiant. He had thought that nothing could be perfect in this world, but her . . . she was the most perfectly imperfect thing he'd ever seen.
Fahrenheit stroked her cheek, marveling at softness of her skin, her silky hair . . .
Uh oh, she's got me captured, he thought as the child unconsciously took is hand and held it tightly to her chest. But he saw it as more endearing than annoying. So he sat down, made himself comfortable and watched over her through the night. She seemed to be dreaming, and she never once let go of his hand.
"Someday," he murmured to her softly, "I'll come back, and I promise I'll stay and protect you as long as I can. You are my true Mistress, and no one will be able to hurt you."
He stayed like that, basking in the warmth that seemed to be emanating from a soft glow around her, until footsteps were heard out side the door, the girl stirred and Fahrenheit got through the window just as the lock clicked and the woman he had seen before stormed in.
"Get up! You're late!" she shouted, hauling the half asleep girl up and pushed her through the door.
Fahrenheit contemplated killing her, right there on the spot. But no, it would look to suspicious.
I'll come back, he promised himself, and when I do, that woman won't lay a finger on her ever again.