I was running. My long black hair was fluttering behind me and threatening to tangle itself in knots.

I hate my hair.

My black jacket (Made by a certain Elder Bespoke) stained with my own blood. It never creased and was always easy to wash and keep safe. If someone shot me, I would survive, too. It made me look "dark and dangerous" apparently.

I hate my looks.

There was a man running behind me with a blue pinstriped jacket and a brilliant hat. He had a gun in his hand and was screaming my name.

I hate my life.

"VAL!" He screamed. "VALKYRIE CAIN!"

I kept running. I couldn't lose my focus.

"I JUST WANT TO TALK, VAL!"

"YOU'VE DONE YOUR DAMAGE!" I yelled, glaring at him over my shoulder.

I felt the world tumbling as I realised my shoelace was undone and, well I had tripped. I saw a certain detective looming over me.