I headed down the street and into the main city, passing hundreds; maybe thousands of people. It felt like everyone's eyes were on me. I turn to look at them, but I realize that no one is staring. I started to run past everyone, their faces blurred, just like a picture when the sunlight hits it the wrong way. I ran so fast uphill; I stopped in place and realized where I had ended up.

I start to wonder what had pulled me back to the one place I told myself I shall never return too. I tried to forget what I left behind that day. It was better this way. No one would be hurt or killed anymore, if I just stayed away. However, for some reason I was dragged back. Something in the air made me return.

I remember, when I was ten years, I had come to this place every day. I stood looking over the town and watching everyone go about their day. I used to be so jealous, just because the other kids got to go play with other children, and I was sentenced to stay up here and be a spectator. I was not allowed to do anything with the other children; maybe my father thought that this town was unsafe for a person like me. On the other hand, maybe he thought that if I stepped foot outside I would be been killed on the spot. He never trusted anyone; not even his own father. Maybe he was just over protective, but he was trying to protect me. To protect the only one thing he did truly trust. His daughter. His only child.

I now realize that he was not trying to protect me from the world, but the world from me. He knew if I had entered the world of the humans, I would have not been able to control myself. However, I was too young to comprehend. I did not know the true reason behind them locking me up in this prison

My grandfather once told me that it is for my own good that I must stay here, that if I venture out into the world of the humans I would regret everything. Everything that I would do while in this world. He told me that one day I would be able to control myself, control the powers within me. Then, just then, I would be able to wander off into that world. However, until then I must train to use my powers to help others and not to kill. It was hard for me to understand everything that was going on, but I took his words, put them into my heart, and promised myself that one day I would be able to control my powers and to drift off into the world. To see the oceans, the cities, the different people, the little shops, and most importantly I would be able to attend school.

I was in this world, to help the humans, but every time, I try I just end up hurting them. They keep telling me, that one day I will be able to control my powers. Ever since I had been taken away from my home, everyone treats me as if I am still that eight-year-old girl who cannot control her own powers.

My memories were pushed back. All I remember was the good times, the times when I thought my family was my family. But I only remembered a lie. A lie that will never go away.

***

It has been a hundred years, since that day. I can remember it well. I had been sitting on the edge of Mount Ontake looking down past the clouds at the town. People from down there believed that this was not a mountain but a volcano. In other words, they were scared of what was up here and did not want to find out. The people looked so small from up here, like ants, crawling, making way for the queen.

I sat on the edge for two hours, when I remember my father and my grandfather were having a meeting about me. Every month on the first of the month, they would gather with the elders and discuss what was going on with me. I loved hearing everything, even if some of it made me seem like an uncontrollable little first grader. I hated the way my father would talk about me, as if I was nothing to him. He knew that one day I would be able to control myself. However, today was not that day.

I know I should have not been listening but I was drawn to their conversation. I heard them arguing and suggesting some ideas of 'how to handle me'. When those words were spoke I knew something was wrong. And then, I heard the word:

KILL

This was not supposed to happen to me. Who has the right to decide who lives and who dies? No one; I ran as fast as I could to edge of the mountain and I tried to break free from the barrier which held me in, but I had no luck, I was trapped. I was trapped, and I knew I was going to die, but I did not know when. I was yelling, kicking, punching and stabbing at the barrier with anything I could find. I just needed to leave, to protect myself. That is when I heard a familiar voice.

The voice became louder and louder. It was my father. He was running towards me; my feet started to move. It was in a moment of anger, when I started screaming and hitting him. I needed to calm down, but I could not. Just knowing that he was lying to me made me even more frustrated. My blood was rising, my heart rate accelerating.

In a harsh tone he yelled at me, told me that I was nothing but an experiment. I thought that he was my father, but he was only my creator. Was it all a lie? My life? Was it all planned? My father is not my father, is my grandfather really my grandfather? My life was falling apart, there was nothing I could do.

My powers pressure was increasing by the second and I could not control it. It was as if there was a volcano inside that need to be let go. That was unleashing itself without permission.

"Finally, this is what I have waited for."

My creator suddenly vanished, leaving behind two people; or what I thought were people. Tattoos marked their bodies; tattoos of numbers.

"What are you? Who are you?" my voice reached a demanding tone.

A laugh came from the man's mouth, then came a smirk.

"Us… We are ESPADA'S"

I remember hearing that word before, something about it made my heart hurt. I cannot understand why. Are they supposed to be dangerous? As soon as the thought came to me, the younger women placed her hand upon her zanpakuto. She started to look at me, her eyes shifted towards the man; he looked at her back in agreement. That's when I knew I should run.

Just the thought of that made me even more frustrated. The power within me bubbled. At that moment, I realized that the only way for my spirit pressure to return to normal is to let it erupt. The three espada's glared and raced after me. My legs stopped. Something within me was laughing. Something within me wanted to get out.

Black covered the mountain. For some reason I loved it. My hands sliced through the male espada and then headed towards the female. The feeling of the power within me, the feeling of blood against my skin, the feeling of being feared felt like no other. It devoured me. Ate me whole. It released me. I was out of control.

My eyes were now glazed over; burning with crimson, mind taken over, heart beating faster, blood rushing through my veins, arched lips waiting for blood to spill once more. My hair now elongated, and silver flowing with the wind. My finger nails long, sharp, pointed, with bloodstains. A mask made of bone, was now placed upon my face in the shape of crescent moon.

I stood in place waiting.

People from the house came to see what had happened, but when they arrived, I became their nightmare. Blood everywhere: on my hands, my lips, and in my hair.

The fear that ran through them, gave me a rush. A rush like no other. I had another choice: a choice to run away. Nevertheless, their fear consumed me, ate me alive. It was something I did not want to run from. Something I needed to survive. I needed their blood.

With my bear hands, I slashed their throats, twisted their bodies, cut open their stomachs and made the others watch. I wanted them to fear me even more then they already did. I hated them for locking me in this prison, and I wanted them to know that. Killing was like my second nature. I loved the smell of the blood; I loved the way it looked as it ran down from the cuts of their bodies. The way the blood hit the ground, and made pools after pools of red liquid.

Screams ran down the mountain, echoes of the naïve groups gushed through the wind. Within seconds, it became quiet. No more screams, no more echoes, no more fear. Fear that I thirsted for. Fear that I never wanted to end.

This feeling had been like nothing I have ever felt before: not remorse, not guilt, but pleasure. Pleasure in killing people. Pleasure in hearing them scream, hearing them pled, watching them bleed.

My human instincts were disappearing; I could not control my hunger, my craving for blood. The pleasure consumed me. There was nothing I wanted more but to see people pled, for me to finally make the decision for who dies and who lives.