I swear this really is a one-shot; if you want to read the story immediately, just head to chapter two. However, I actually spent a lot of time doing a character development, and even wrote a little piece of story doing so.

The girl's name is Emmeline Natsis. She is of average height and has long brown hair and green eyes. When she was fourteen, her parents were murdered and she was kidnapped by the same man. I wrote this as an explanation for what he did to her and why she's now completely afraid of 1.) sex, and 2.) any physical human contact whatsoever.

I was actually really proud of the writing, although I'm sure my mother and friends alike would have heart attacks if they saw the sort of stuff that runs through my mind... I hope you enjoy it more than they would! (evil grin)

Quick Disclaimer: I do not own Black Butler or any of the characters in it...however much I wish I did.

I had lost everything.

I remained as I was, no hope of escaping even if I had wanted to anymore. My hands had been forced above my head and bound with rope to the bedpost, and in a similar way, my ankles had been tied down. My arms and legs ached from several, fruitless attempts to free my hands and feet from the ropes. But escape didn't matter anymore. I was broken now. In that god-awful, agonizing interminable time frame that I would never be able to get out of my head for as long as I lived, everything was taken from me.

At first I had screamed, screamed until I felt like my lungs were about to burst, as my captor approached me, wielding a knife with a thin, gleaming blade. He started laughing at me for my screams, and then relayed a piece of information that would surely seal my fate: the room was soundproof.

He had murdered them, I knew it. Before he had knocked me out, the last thing I had seen were the blank, soulless eyes of my parents. He had murdered my mother with a knife, plunging it into her chest and then slitting her throat. My father he had hit it the head with the axe from our garage.

Screams. A waterfall of blood. Their lifeless, lightless eyes. Then something had struck me over the head and hurled me into darkness. I had woken up tied to a bed with what used to be white sheets; now they were stained with blood.

I whimpered when he touched me, tugging at the blouse I wore, stained with the blood of my parents. He tore at it, ripping the buttons off until my shirt hung open, and then he unclasped my bra. There was anticipation in his eyes by then.

Then he'd taken the knife he held and began to cut off my jeans. I'd shut my eyes then, begging a higher power to take me. At that point, I wasn't so sure anymore if such a thing as God existed.

And then I was completely exposed, and I could hear my captor's heavy, excited breathing. I had not been able to keep my eyes shut. I couldn't see his face; he wore a black ski mask. All I could see were his eyes. They were so dark brown they were almost black.

He chuckled, and then pressed the blade of the knife against my stomach. In a swift, expert motion, he cut me. I gasped and gritted my teeth, but I refused to scream.

He repeated this process on what seemed to be on every surface of my body. I kept my eyes screwed shut, judging by the amount of pain that came with each sting of opening flesh how deep the cuts were at first, but eventually it all just mixed together until it was nearly unbearable.

I cringed when I felt something warm and wet gliding over each cut. The bastard was licking my blood.

I felt his gloved hands on my face, and my eyes flew open, just in time to see his masked face approaching mine rapidly, and he stuck his tongue down my throat. I gagged on the taste; the salty tang of my own blood.

My first kiss gone then.

I was so relieved when he stopped kissing me that I almost forgot where I was, what he was doing to me or going to do to me. My memory came crashing back when his fingers, trembling in ecstasy, moved to unclasp the buttons on his pants.

I shut my eyes again, letting loose a string of the foulest words I knew, cursing him for all eternity. I felt his weight, and then…only agony after that. I would have taken a thousand more cuts with the knife if it were to save me from this. It hurt me so bad I thought I would pass out from the pain, and even with my eyes closed, all I could see was red. I couldn't keep from screaming then. I begged him to stop, pleaded with him to do anything else to me, just stop what he was doing right then. Hot tears poured down my face as I begged him to kill me. He looked up at me, no emotion in those near-black eyes of his, and struck me so hard in the face I saw stars.

I wanted to die.

My virginity gone. No; gone is too light of a word. My virginity stolen.

When he had satisfied himself, he ended the agony, but even as he lifted himself off of me and the bed, there was still pain. It still hurt like hell. I could still feel the ghost of it, his presence inside my body. I felt myself break then. It was like my body was no longer mine. It was like my soul had abandoned my broken, tainted body.

My captor began to hum as he pocketed the knife and stopped down, picking something up off the floor. Another knife, much bigger and much sharper than the last. He ran his finger carefully along the blade and began a chant that made me ill.

"I find them and watch them.

Then I take them and spoil them.

When I'm done I chop them up

And throw the pieces in the ocean."

As he approached me with the knife, I felt an unusual sense of calm. He was about to kill me. So what? Nothing mattered anymore. Not to me. And if I let him kill me, the pain would end. It was an answer to my prayers.

He raised the knife. I shut my eyes.

And that's when the banging started. It was annoying, really. Was death supposed to sound like a battering ram?

And then I heard the sound of something clattering to the floor. Damn. Not dead. Still alive. I opened my eyes and saw my captor staring urgently at the door of the room. He swore colorfully, took a final glance at me, and then raced across the room. He lifted the floorboards up. A trapdoor. I suppose a good murderer and rapist always has an escape plan.

He snarled a final threat to me, one that I can't really remember now. It hadn't mattered to me, at the time.

He disappeared into the trapdoor and had just replaced the floorboards when the door burst open with a deafening crash. People flooded the room, and I suddenly had a swarm of police officers and SWAT members around me. One of them, a woman whose eyes hone with tears when she what had been done to me, stripped off her coat and covered me with it as a burly man who was cussing up a storm cut the ropes binding my hands and feet.

It seemed like a dream. I wanted it to be a dream. Why hadn't they just let me die? It would have been so much better than this.

A team of paramedics crowded me, and I felt myself lifted off the bed and onto a hospital gurney. The woman who had given me her coat followed them, never leaving my side, frantically whispering reassurances in my ear.

I hated all of them for not letting me die. They could all rot in Hell, for all I cared.

My heart, my entire being, burned with an intense longing for revenge. It consummated my whole body, mind, and spirit, broken as all three of those things may be. I would do anything to see the man who had raped me killed.

I would have done anything to be the one to kill him. I would even offer up my soul.

The minute I came to terms with this, the world exploded around me. And suddenly, all that existed was a voice, silky smooth and seductive. I could hear it very close to me, like its owner was speaking in my ear, to me and only to me.

"Well, well, well… for the first time in eternity, I've received the call of a female. How very interesting. And such a young one at that… Now, choose." I could hear the smile. "Do you wish to make a contract with me?"

The next day, as I lay in a hospital bed wishing for death and believing the voice had been nothing more than a dream, a man came into my room. He was tall and very handsome-one might say inhumanly handsome- with unkempt black hair and red eyes. He was dressed as a doctor. I began to tell him to go away, but he introduced himself as the demon I'd made a contract with.

He forged our seal, burning it on the inside of my left wrist, a sapphire blue circle with intricate designs on the inside; almost like spider webs. In the very center was a pentagram, bearing the word tetragrammaton; Yahweh. How ironic for such a biblical reference to be used by a demon.

He told me I had to choose his name. It didn't matter to me. I just said he could use whatever name he had liked most in the past, so he chose Sebastian. Sebastian Michaelis. A very gothic, Victorian-sounding name. I very much approved.

He spear-headed my recovery, as Dr. Michaelis, of course, and once I was healed and placed in the local orphanage, it took him two days to adopt me. I also took on the last name of Michaelis, abandoning the name I had been born with, the one I had possessed when everything had left me. When I had been broken.

I came to trust him completely. I tried going to a normal high school. Thirty minutes of that, and I knew that I wouldn't be able to handle it. I had never been more scared in my life, aside from when I was raped. All those people…all those people to hurt me… to finish what that man had started…

They sent me home because I had a nervous breakdown, and Sebastian has been homeschooling me since. It didn't take long, only about six months, for me to develop feelings for him. We now live in a fairly large house (Sebastian has an uncanny ability to invest in the stock market) and maintain a stable boyfriend-girlfriend relationship, nothing more. He understands that I literally cannot sleep with him. Sex frightens me just about as much as people do. After all, it's the most agonizing thing I've ever experienced.

My life has attained stability, and I'm relatively happy. Things would be just about perfect if Sebastian didn't capitalize on the whole "legal guardian" thing.

I'm actually pretty happy with it. I would love to know what you thought of it, too... review, please? They're what get me up in the morning...

That and Sebastian Michaelis.