BOOK ONE: THE SILENT BEAUTY
"Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the loneliest one of all?"
RWBY - White's Sonata

Chapter One: Frozen

My story began with ice… which is a substance so cold that it can kill a man if he becomes encased in it. However, ice can also feel very warm and soothing over an extended period of time, and to me, there are two extremely different types of it: the first is the physical type, and it feels colder than the way my hair and eyelashes look to other people… but the second type is emotional, and this is the type that my life began with. It was the only thing I had to latch onto, to soothe my soul.

You see… I was born and raised in the scorching heat of Hell on Earth: Stillwater, Massachusetts.

My name is Emily White, and I am a fourteen-year-old albino girl who grew up in a city that had never once been clean. In my world, common morals don't apply to how things are done, nor can the law help people: if you get caught alone without a weapon, you'll either get raped by a gang or shot to death depending on your gender. Before the Ice settled deep around my heart and formed a frigid barrier between myself and humanity, I had an identical twin sister: the two of us had the same face, the same build, the same habits, and pretty much the same everything aside from the disease that claimed me when I was still in the womb: albinism.

Her hair had always been a gorgeous brown, and her eyes had been a beautiful shade of honey-amber.

Me, on the other hand... well, my hair and lashes are whiter than snow, and my eyes are a disturbing shade of pink.

Before the day my twin was raped and murdered in front of me, I was very weak: I couldn't stand violence, and I even felt compelled to cry every now and then whenever gunshots would erupt outside of our dingy one-bedroom apartment. Whenever I'd actually start crying, however, she would always lie down next to me on our tiny mattress and cover my ears to block out the screams coming from outside. She had been so strong… but because I had always leaned on her for protection, she was killed… and I'll never the last thing she said to me as she lay dying in my arms.

"Be strong, Emily," Amelia had whispered. "Even if you have to kill to survive, do it: live on no matter what it takes."

"K-kill?" I'd whispered back, shaking my head in horror. "I could never kill anyone!"

However, the moment those words left my lips, my sister had smiled at me and her muscles had relaxed in my grasp. When her eyes glazed over, I'd felt the touch of Ice burning my heart for the very first time in my entire life. It had seeped into me with an ache so terrible that I'd instantly wanted to cry my eyes out and scream… but I had been rendered completely incapable of doing so because of how powerful the pain was. Even now, to this very day… whenever the Ice in my heart begins to thaw, that pain threatens to rip my soul in two. That's why I don't feel anything now: after my sister died, I'd vowed to never let myself feel anything, ever again.

And because of her last wish, I was going to survive no matter what it took, even if it meant ending other lives.

I was accepted into a private academy for girls last year, but when several of my new and overly pretty classmates tried to jump me during lunch, I beat them half to death and ripped their hair out because it made me feel better. Nobody in school ever messed with me once I'd made it clear that I wasn't afraid to kill them, and because of that I got very bored. I'd ended up immersing myself in my studies since reading and doing schoolwork were the only distractions I had to keep the Ice around my heart from thawing. That's what consumed my time before the night my life changed forever.

And that evening is where my story truly began… because it was the night I met Julius and Troy for the very first time.

I had been walking home from school with my mind fixed on getting to my old apartment building without being shot, so I was completely on edge and extremely alert: even though I was only four feet and seven inches tall, I had personally vowed a long time ago never to let anybody use my own height against me. My shoulder-length white hair was hanging loosely around my cheeks like wisps of silver satin, but my glasses had always prevented people from actually seeing my eyes.

"Watches!" a sleazy black man shouted, thrusting a box of wares into my face. "Cost six hundred dolla's in th' sto'!"

I immediately sent a furious glare at him and continued walking, ignoring the vulgarity that assaulted me from behind as I sauntered away.

All around me were hookers, drug-addicts, and pimps of every shape and variety since I lived in the slums: all of them cast glances my way since I was wearing my schoolgirl uniform, but they knew better to approach since they were all neighbors who lived nearby. Everyone in this area knew me by appearance because I was the only attractive albino within a thousand-mile radius. If you hadn't guessed, I'm pretty damn hot for a girl with albinism, and I'm sure as hell aware of it: anybody who thinks otherwise can go fuck themselves with a plunger-handle for all I care. I don't particularly like my appearance, and I don't think it's something to be proud of, so I don't flaunt it around: beauty can lead to some very unpleasant situations in a city as corrupt as Stillwater, so I've never worn make-up or let my hair grow out.

However, there are people who believe they need to take care of me... such as the woman who was currently looking for me.

"Little Lady, you are late! What on earth took you so long to get here?" Mrs. McCarthy demanded, stomping down the street and planting her hands on her hips; I merely looked up at her through my glasses and stared her down with a fierce expression. She was nothing but an old, fat black woman who lived two doors down from me: she was a lonely soul, and she'd somehow gotten it into her head that I needed someone to take care of me... that I needed a good role model.

I never let it show, but I was grateful to her because she was always looking after me: she cooked meals, visited, and checked up all the time.

However, when she gave me the stink-eye, I scowled and tried to walk around her.

The woman sighed like she always did when I ignored her… but that's when it happened again, and the ice around my heart froze my body completely solid. I turned my head and halted when I heard the angry voices, arms tightening around the bag and books I was holding even as my vision sharpened. Two rival gangs where insulting each other, and several people were already bolting for their homes. Mrs. McCarthy gripped my wrist when they started beating each other.

I remained frozen, watching the two gangs fight each other with wide eyes as the woman huddled down.

"Emily, get down!" Mrs. McCarthy squeaked, tugging on my arm when a topless red sport's car screeched around a corner and skidded to a halt in front of us; my violet eyes latched into the Hispanic men in the vehicle… then they flitted to the huge guns in their hands and I felt my stomach flip, because only a moment later the fighting gangs drew their weapons as well. Then pandemonium erupted with the sound of rapid gunfire: Mrs. McCarthy's hand jerked and her nails dug into my flesh before her grip went slack and she completely let go of my arm; I glanced down to see rivers of blood spilling from three gaping holes in her forehead.

I glanced down at my arm to see that my sleeve had been torn a little: I had been grazed by a bullet, and because of that my instincts finally kicked in.

I immediately dropped to the ground with my arms over my head; however, when more gunfire erupted and the sports' car crashed only ten feet away from me, it exploded and I was blown clean off the ground. My school items were ripped clean out of my grasp as I rolled three feet away from where I'd previously dropped down, and my ears instantly started ringing. When the pain hit me, I curled into a ball to keep myself from vomiting.

I vaguely heard more gunfire, but when I opened my eyes, I saw a blurred silhouette of a man wearing yellow and white. He was pointing something dark and blobby at me… and it was only then that I realized I couldn't see because I'd lost my glasses in the earlier explosion. However, I knew what he held in his hands, and I immediately tried to crawl away from him on my back. My shoes scraped against the concrete as I tried to push myself backwards, and I heard him sneer down at me.

"Wrong place, wrong time, hoe," he drawled, walking up and pressing the pistol shaft against my forehead. I immediately closed my eyes and tensed, waiting for the world to go dark and send me spiraling down into the land of perpetual fire… but the gunshot I heard didn't end my life. I felt myself scowl when I realized that I'd flinched a little bit at the first initial noise; then I opened my eyes to see two blurred silhouettes in front of me.

"You okay, playa?" a male voice asked; when I felt a large hand touch my hair, I could sense that whoever had saved my life was pretty confused by my strikingly odd appearance. However, I fervently kept my mouth shut even when he gripped my skinny arm and pulled me up; my right leg instantly buckled as a sharp pain shot through it, but he caught me before I fell. The next thing I knew, I was being dragged away from the burning car.

Good thing, too, because it exploded not even ten seconds after he started pulling me away from it. I stumbled a bit as my savior hauled me over towards the hardware store's brick wall, but when he set me down and touched my ankle, I kept my face blank and refused to speak. I waited until he was finished, but I twitched a bit when he put my glasses on my face. I was immediately met with the clear sight of two men standing before me: a handsome black man with reddish brown eyes wearing purple gang flags, and a young white man with the same colors and a cigarette poking out of his mouth. The white man was also holding a gun in his hand. I blinked a few times in shock since they were obviously part of a new gang… but for some reason, they were acting more like saints than scum.

Ironically enough, I learned later that I had been spot on.

The black man gripped my arm and inspected the scratch.

"That don't look so bad… you should be fine," he stated, looking straight into my eyes before jerking his thumb at the man standing behind him. "I'm Julius and that's Troy: you can thank him later. The Row ain't safe no more, kid… we got street gangs fightin' over shit that ain't theirs, and if you in the way, they don't care if you're representin' or not."

"Julius," Troy snapped, waving the gun around. "This is no time to start recruitin' little girls!"

"We need all the help we can get, son," Julius retorted, swiveling around to look at him. "Age and gender don't matter."

"No, what we need is to get our asses outta here!" the white man retorted, looking around as the sound of police sirens began to split the air somewhere far in the distance. "The cops are gonna show up any second, so we gotta get going! Now!"

"Give me a second," the black man snorted, turning to look back at me. "Look, kid, the Row's got a problem… so come to the old church tomorrow morning if you wanna be a part of the solution. Like I said, we'll need all the help we can get."

I kept my mouth shut when the two of them ran off and disappeared around a corner, but I slowly crawled back to my feet after they were gone: after dusting myself off, I stumbled over to where my things had fallen and grabbed them off the pavement… but the moment I turned and saw Mrs. McCarthy lying in a puddle of her own blood, my heart skipped a sickening beat and I bolted towards my apartment. I literally flew up the stairs and ran into my tiny home before slamming the door shut and locking it with a loud click; then I sank down to the floor and curled up into a ball. The ice was in my heart… and it was trying to soothe me… but reality was too painful.

I had gotten another person killed… but this time, I wanted revenge.

And I was going to get it.

Good girls go bad, but when they're gone, they're gone for good.

And I was too damn tired of trying to be nice.