A/N: Hello, my lovelies. I present to you another OC x Bel fic, cause Squalo is for me and me only. Anyways. Please don't leave this fic just because you've seen many not-so-original OC's. I promise this one I have here won't make you want to gauge your eyes out...I hope.
Anyways. Enjoy and don't forget to review. :)

I was eight when it happened. On a bright morning, my parents decided to take me out to a water park for my birthday. I couldn't remember exactly why, but I pestered them into taking me by the bus. Perhaps I was curious. I'm not sure, but I regretted it.

It just so happened that there was a bus jacking. All I could remember was a drunken man with bloodshot eyes pointing a gun wildly at all the passengers. I remembered my heart pounding in my chest. Then what happened next was only a series of deafening gun shots and screams. They were my parent's screams.

That was all I could remember of that day. I couldn't remember why I survived, but I did. I hated it. But now I'm older and I can ignore my past.

I'd done research a few years ago after I graduated high school. The results of my research led me to the name: Varia. The man that had killed my parents had died, had been killed by a grinning blonde boy whose name I found out to be Belphegor. It was hard to find that out. I had to spend weeks hacking into things.

I didn't like to abuse my hacking knowledge but then, I had to find out the condition in which my parent's murderer was in. And now, I worshipped the Varia. They'd killed the man for me, avenging my parents on my behalf. That was how I saw it. I knew it wasn't right to wish death upon someone, but I couldn't help it.

The murder of anyone's parents would cause that certain person to wish death upon the murderer. That was just how it is.

It was dark at night when I sat at my computer chair in my messy room, surfing the web. I lived alone in my small apartment. I didn't like the idea of having a roommate. The thought that there would be another person just metres away from me, unhindered by a locked door, scared me.

I made a living by drawing things and selling them on e-bay. I'd actually became somewhat known there, and it didn't take too long for people to buy my pieces. I got lucky, I guessed. I wasn't even that good. I didn't draw anything with much concept or depth behind it.

Most of my artworks like the ones hung around the walls of my room were pictures of people killing each other in different ways, mostly in a bright and sunny place. I found it ironic and amusing, so I painted it. People liked it, so that was a plus.

After checking up on my e-mail one last time, I closed the browser and pushed myself away from my desk. I felt like painting again, I just wasn't sure what. I'd already exhausted the list of humanely possible ways to kill.

I had the basics, hanging, knives, beating, guns and so forth. I'd even had death by a poodle. That one was my favourite.

Now I was just plain running out of ideas. I sighed and brushed away a lock of my electric purple hair, which I'd dyed a few years ago and some of my naturally blond hair showed at the roots. I tucked it back into my ponytail as I leaned over my table and to the window.

I pulled the grey curtains apart and pushed up the glass to let the cold night air in. It was refreshing. I sat back down on my chair and just began enjoying the sweet breeze when out of nowhere, I saw a white glint.

Before I could even squint and see what it was, there was a loud crash as a figure swung themselves in through my window and landed on me, toppling me and my chair onto the ground.

The wind was knocked out of me so I didn't scream. Instead I groaned and tried to roll onto my side. My initial thought was that some bat came flying into my room, however that was not the case, I realised. On top of me there was a human being, straddling me.

Finally I had the strength to scream and was just about to when I felt cold metal against my neck. I had a blade pressed to my neck. My mouth went dry.

Then I finally made out the figure on top of me. It took me a few seconds from looking at the person's blond hair, to the oddly shaped knife on my neck, and to the glint which must have come from the tiara on the persons head before I realised it was Belphegor.

Suddenly all I wanted to do was hug him, but I resisted, I really did. I did really want to ask him a lot of questions though, one being why the hell was he on top of me right this second, but I remained quiet.

He giggled at me before craning his neck and taking a glance around at my room, or at least I think he did, his hair was doing a pretty good job of staying in front of his eyes.

His grin grew wider. I felt a swell of pride for some reason. Belphegor was looking at my art pieces. I wasn't sure whether to be more ecstatic or still, creeped out. I prayed he would remove his blade from my neck.

Answering my prayers, he did. He tucked it away into his coat and stood up. I could breathe again. I push myself up and cross my legs nervously as he looks down at me.

"You're an interesting peasant," he says.

I frown. "What?" I manage to croak. I clear my throat, embarrassed.

"Lilly Tirador," he says, more to himself than me. I only admire the way my name sounded from his mouth, hardly bothered by the fact that he knew my name at the moment. "I was sent here to kill you…" He hesitates.

My mouth goes dry again.

"The reason being for something about hacking or some photo thing," he goes on. "I don't know, the stupid captain stopped briefing me and began yelling at the toad so I left."

I nod slowly. The guy was a maniac, I concluded. Somehow that conclusion didn't stop me from being at awe of him. I grew aware that I was gaping so I snapped my jaw shut.

He turned to me.

"You painted these?" he asked, gesturing to the paintings on my walls. He sounded mildly impressed despite the degrading tone he used on me.

"Yeah," I say, feeling dumb.

"Not bad," he comments. "I like that one. I haven't tried it yet," he said, pointing to the one hanging on my door. It was the poodle one.

"Me too," I agree with a chuckle.

He looks at me. "It's a shame to kill you, in a way," he says. I get uncomfortable again. I found my fingers searching fruitlessly for a weapon of some sort on my carpet.

"It'll be nice to see your eyeballs get crushed."

I grimace. He was very nonchalant about this.

"I've always wondered what blue eyes looked like, crushed. I've pierced brown ones, but haven't crushed blue ones now that I think of it."

I feel my eyes roll back in my head and I lost consciousness.