Maka was frozen in fear. Her father, Spirit, lay in her room with someone who was not her mother. And the pain came again, not to be washed away quite as easily as the last time. It was a never ending cycle for her. She tried so hard to ignore it. Ever since she was younger she'd been having problems with it. First came the anger. Blinding and obvious. She'd fly into a rage almost immediately and calm down straight after, choosing to be away from Spirit. Then, the violence. That started when Maka had been reading and her father came home drunk, and proceeded to make out (heavily) at twelve at night right in front of the young child. She hadn't meant to throw the book but it was in her hand and then it wasn't. It had hit her dad square in the face. His one night stand had left whilst Maka worked herself up. It didn't help that the poor girl's mother had left her, sending her postcards as if to keep up the pretence of love. Finally, as she grew, she developed trust issues. It didn't help with the fact that she was supposed to be starting school. The DWMA in fact. Full to the brim with students.

Her first year was alright. Only eleven years old, hair in tow mini pigtails, wearing what might have resembled a school uniform. That was the first time she had ever made friends. Two very different friends. On one hand you had Tsubaki. Quiet, shy, calm. She seemed to stick out like a sore thumb. But Maka and Tsubaki stuck together. Not talking much, just conveying their emotions to each other. Then there was Kid.

Maka knew Kid had 'problems'. Everyone did. But some bullied him for it, some avoided him and others just ignored him. Maybe it was the ODC. Maybe it was the abuse. But, either way Kid was gone the moment the year ended. Then came second year. More brutal. More backbreaking. Maka was looking for somewhere other than her own home to stay, due to her dads tendencies to forget she existed. She'd stay out later to complete a set of homework or revise by herself but by doing this, her father seemed to be blocking her. She was no longer constantly there. She was learning to look after herself. His wife was showing no signs of returning. What else was there to do but play around, right?

Another thing was the depression. As you do, Maka realised things she'd been too naive to see before. Her mother had left her for good, Kid was never coming back and Tsubaki was getting worse. Poor, poor Tsubaki. She'd been diagnosed with specific phobia a month ago. Her only brother had turned on her a while ago ad he often did... things that made Tsubaki nervous. The more he did it, the more she applied it to everyday actions. Soon enough, Maka was alone again.

Age thirteen was when it got extremely bad. The bullies got worse, now that there was only one. She spent many nights holed up in the library, not wanting to face her father, resulting in him bringing more women and overall, neglecting his duties as a parent. Maka's mother had cut off all communications with Maka on her last birthday, saying that there was no reason to talk since Maka was growing. And there were the urges. If someone looked her way she'd get the urge to stab herself with whatever was near. If she was reprimanded in class she'd want to gouge out her eyes.

Submerging herself in books, reality became distorted. She began to be even more violent and jumpy. Screaming out in class when someone said that one word from that one book that somehow cause everyone to die you stupid blabbering idiot shut your bloody mouth now or I'll sew it shut' or 'will you not speak so loudly when there are people around you who are not in your conversation thank you very much you ignorant brat'. Quite often she'd mutter the words under her breath and then be forced to speak them aloud.

It was plain as day to see that Maka was slowly losing it. It didn't help that there were rumours of Kid and Tsubaki being in a loony bin. Not that Maka remembered much about her two friends at all. They'd never known much about each other but just knowing they were there was comforting.

So after everything, she tried to commit suicide.

Climbing up one of the large red pillars the school had, Maka laughed. Her hair, let loose, whipped in the winds. It danced in frenzy, coinciding with the girl's emotions. She grinned maliciously and laughed. It was free, and wild and crazy. It was hurt and angry and worried. It echoed through the grounds, hidden by the whirlpool of rain, hail, and wind. The plaid skirt she'd wore every day without fail was flayed and worn out. Much like its owner. The owner who held no regrets about leaning forwards screaming and crying and laughing. It hurt and it didn't. It frightened yet calmed her. Perhaps she knew this was the right decision to make all along. Perhaps it was fate, or even destiny. Whatever it was, it was there. At that moment her mind was clear and her soul was content. The fictional characters that Maka loved turned against her.

You always knew it would end like this.

How could you tell someone who has their life written out for them to be hopeful?

You told us to strive forward, next time take your own pathetic advice.

This is not worth anything.

What is any of this going to achieve.

Did Maka care? No. She was carefree. She was careless. She believed in what she was doing as she hurtled towards solid ground and uttered her last words. The wrong words. The worst words. The easiest words.

"JUST DIE!"