Prologue
It was almost midnight, and the bright yellow cresent moon smiled its usual creepy smile over Death City. It gleamed gold in the purple sky. The summer air was hot, and it made her sweat.
The teenage girl was about fourteen, sweeping dust outside in front of an apartment that looked like it was about to fall apart any moment. She was in rags, pieces of grey cloth patched up to make a simple dress. A dirty piece of cloth held back her medium-length jet black ringlets as she continued to sweep with the broom.
She hummed a lonely tune quietly so her uncle wouldn't hear her from inside the apartment. Hell, he probably wouldn't wake up, judging by how many drinks he had at the bar a few hours earlier.
She was wrong. A gruff voice came from inside. "Girl, get inside the goddamn house right now!" He said drunkenly. The girl sighed and rested the broom on the outside of the apartment wall.
She tossed the dirty cloth in her hair into the Dumpster on the right side of the apartment and took a deep breath. She walked into the apartment.
"Sir?" She asked. Her drunk uncle took swig of beer from the bottle in his hands and then hurled it at her head. She flinched a bit as it hit her in the face and left a red welt. She quickly ran to her room and locked the door. She heard a loud thud as her uncle passed out and fell to the floor.
At least tonight wasn't as bad as the others... The girl thought in her head. She sighed, and then lit a candle. It made the room a bit lighter, but she still couldn't see all of it. She sat on her bed and placed the candle on the wooden carton that served as her beside table.
The girl had enough of this. She wanted to run away again, but from the few times she tried, she only got punished more. Her windows got boarded and nailed shut. Her uncle's friends were roaming around Death City. Her uncle himself would take the liberty of killing his own niece if she ever tried running away again.
The girl looked at the scars on her wrists. There were four on the right wrist and three on the left. Her uncle did most of the right wrist, but the rest were all her doings. She felt the scars of brutal beatings all over her body and grimaced.
I'm going to try to run away again. And this time, I'll make sure I won't get caught. I'll go somewhere better than this wretched dump.
A glimmer of hope flashed in her sky-blue eyes and she started to pack her most important belongings-three pieces of large cloth she could make clothes out of, a pocket knife, a sewing kit, her violin, and the bright red hairbow her mother had given her just before she passed away.
She placed all those things in a sack and quietly creaked open her door. Her uncle was still passed out on the floor. She quickly tiptoed past him and went out the front door.
Thank God. I did it!
The girl walked. She didn't know where she was going, but she knew it would be far, far away from the horrible place she lived in.
She walked and walked until she finally came to a tired stop. Two gossipy women were walking the streets. "Oh, Spirit is such a charmer!" One of them said.
Spirit...? Why does that name sound strangely familiar...?
The other woman giggled, "The most handsomest Death Scythe ever!" She exclaimed, "We should go to the DWMA more often!"
They both laughed and made their way to who-knows-where.
Something in the girl's mind clicked.
It's him, she thought.
I've found him.
She made her way to the DWMA, with absolutely no idea what she was getting herself into.
Let's hope DWMA's a good place.
