Hi! How're you doin? Thanks so much for clicking that link and giving this a try! As some of you may already know, this use to be a collaborative work between ArashiYuki13 and me! But she was unable to continue writing with me for a couple of reasons, but I was quite fired up for this book so I decided to write it myself! I hope you like it! It's not that good but I hope you try it out and like it! (Sorry, I stink at writing A/Ns) Sooo… taadaa! Go ahead and read it! (Sorry for rambling! ^^)

Ring. Ring. Ring.

I groaned to myself. What time was it exactly? Lazily glancing over to the alarm clock, I mustered the angriest glare I could, in hopes that I could destroy the nuisance with my psychic powers. To say the least, it did not work. Stupid, imaginary psychic powers, I thought to myself. Then, I proceeded to push myself out of the comfort of my bed, not forgetting to bang the darn alarm clock's snooze button. The pink and purple flower design on its sides annoyed me to no ends at this time of the morning. It was a present from my uncle, who had probably grabbed the first thing in his sight to get for my fourteenth birthday party.

"WHO GETS THEIR NIECE A DARN ALARM CLOCK?" I yelled, but quickly slapped my hands onto my mouth, taking quick glances around to make sure no one had seen me.

I then groaned once more, realizing that I had actually wasted ten minutes cursing my uncle. Curse my overactive mind! Why can't you ever be like this at school? I scolded myself (which made no sense, of course, but it had to be done). I took slow, sleepy steps to my small, walk-in closet, selecting my favourite white and black striped shirt, along with red jeans. What can I say? I'm feeling lucky today, I hummed cheerfully to myself, adding a change to my gloomy demeanor. I made my way to my bathroom and cleaned myself up, taking a quick shower.

As I made my way back to my bed, (to neaten it up, of course, before my mom began pestering me), a colourful manga cover caught my eye. I grinned to myself happily as I realized it was Assassination Classroom, my all-time favourite manga. I plopped myself onto my rotatable chair and opened it eagerly, re-reading it for what would be the hundredth time. Koro sensei's pink, perverted face greeted me warmly (that, however could've been my imagination again), and I slowly became absorbed into the adventures of teenagers and adults alike, who were dear to my heart. As I delved into the non-existing world, my heart seemed to flutter every once in a while. Who could blame me? I subconsciously smiled at the amazing blue headed boy, sighing heartily. And my friends think they know what they're talking about when they say their crush will never know they exist. Could anyone blame me though, IT'S NAGISA.

As a result of my (not so) complex thoughts of Nagisa, I continuously squealed, chuckling to myself like a demented fan girl. Which, when you thought about it, I was. I busied myself for a while more, indulging in my fantasies of my beloved manga, until I heard shuffling from outside my room. What time was it? My eyes bulged out of their sockets as I read the time.

"I'M GOING TO BE LATE!" I hastily got up, tripping over my feet as I ran down the stairs.

I ran into our tiny kitchen, grabbing a muffin for school, and messily applying butter to a piece of toast to make something that barely came close to the word called "breakfast". I stuffed the muffin in my backpack as I picked it up (thanking God that I had thought of packing it the previous night). I then plopped the buttery piece of burnt toast in my mouth, stomping onto the street and then bursting into a run (much to the dismay of the people around me that were probably debating about just how mentally unstable I was). It was around that time, as I ran for my life to make it to school that I realized something that almost caused me to choke on the bread in my mouth. I had bread in my mouth, I was running late to school; this was just your typical shoujo scenario. I swear, if I run into my future love now, I will die, I thought, snorting loudly.

Then I turned around the corner of the street, still distracted by the thoughts of my future boyfriend. In result, I fell. Hard. Do you want to know of my reaction? I burst into loud, obnoxious laughter, flailing my legs around on the pavement. I pounded my fists as hard as I could, only stopping when I realized I had not caught sight of the person I had bumped into. I raised my head, preparing myself for some handsome teenager, when I saw the freaked out ten year old boy who looked like he was having a self-conflict on whether to run for his life, or drag me to the mental hospital. As we made eye contact, his eyes widened and he threw the first thing he saw onto me and ran without looking back. The first thing he saw being a brick. A freaking brick. I barely rolled myself to the side in time, avoiding the wholesome pain, but catching a few painful scratches instead.

"OUCH" I screamed, quickly standing up, reminding myself that I was late for school.

But no way was I going to let that kid go. So I sprinted towards where I saw the ten year old (or so I presumed) boy head off earlier, revenge ringing in my mind. I openly ignored the fact that I was going opposite to where my school resided. Only after five minutes had flashed by had I realized two gruesome truths. The first being that the boy was nowhere to be found, and the second being that I was hopelessly lost. I chuckled to myself nervously, trying my best to distract myself from the sight of the alarmingly shady people that I had been surrounded by. The whole area stunk horridly of a revolting mixture of sweat, alcohol and cigarettes. It worried me even further, the smell did.

I eased my breaths, avoiding what I felt was an oncoming panic attack. It felt like I was treading on fragile glass that could break on a moment's notice. I shifted uncomfortably, pulling my shirt down as a fat man eyed me lustfully. My ears picked up hushed whispers, and that was when I realized that something bad was going to happen. The sole red rose that grew out of a grey, filthy pot reminded me of blood. I hastened my pace, trying to find my way out of that place.

That was when a heard a shrill, petrified scream. The mere sound of it seemed to suck my face dry of blood, and I stood glued to the ground. Help, I thought, willing myself to believe that everything would work out alright. But I knew that it wouldn't. It never did. As another equally frightened scream was heard I could not stop myself any longer. My legs moved on their own, despite the alarmed voice inside me screaming to escape. I wanted to escape to safety. I couldn't.

I ran towards the source of the horrible sounds, preparing myself for the worst as I turned around a corner to head towards a dark alley. It didn't work. I felt faint and terrified, and my heart began to beat violently, afraid that every beat would be its last. My eyes widened at the petrified woman sprawled in a corner, her eyes flashing alarmingly. I followed her gaze to the limp body of a fully grown man, whimpering slightly at sight of his emotionless eyes. I stood frozen as if I had paralyzed, finally pin pointing the man who had caused all this. A masked man, ignorant to my presence, kicked aside the bloody corpse of the man and slowly walked over to the woman. Then, without wasting another moment, shot her. That was all it took really. The push of a trigger was enough to end the soulful existence of a living being. Then she could scream no more, but that scared me even more. It was only at that gruesome moment that fate would have me notice the presence of another being: a small, terrified child. The girl that was previously hidden behind nearby trashcans sobbed loudly, alerting the masked fiend of her existence. I clenched my fists, and held my breath, hoping with all my heart that everything would be okay. But when the man pointed the gun at the helpless child, I knew I could take no more of this.

I ran at a fastened pace towards the girl, only to see that the man was about to pull the trigger, he was about to needlessly end another life. I jumped in front of the wide eyed girl, pushing her away with all my might. My body shook violently in anticipation of the pain that was soon to come. The following seconds were probably the longest in my life; it was as if the horrifying scene before me was imprinting itself onto my existence, burning the purgatory I felt to my memory. The man responsible for my misery laughed, very simply, reminding me that my life was no longer mine. I understood. I could not survive this, there was no use trying. So I'll just help another, I decided glancing at the helpless soul whimpering to herself. It was at that particular moment that I decided to give up my life for another, to become the very stepping stones that I despised. I sighed in relief as the little girl made her hasty escape. Suddenly, all thoughts flowing through my mind came to an abrupt halt, as if I had been paralyzed.

I cowered as I heard a loud scream: the sort that made me want to crawl to someplace safe. My eyes grew in shape as I realized I was the source of misshapen, horrifying screech. But I did not delve on it. All I managed to register was that I was feeling unimaginable pain. I wanted it to stop. I succumbed to the dirty ground, one thought finally beginning to take shape.

Help me.

Help me.

Help me.

I recited the mantra over and over. But mistaken me not: I knew this would not help, I knew no one would come save me. It was something to hold onto as the masked man repeatedly shot me. As he finally stopped, I laughed through my pain in short-lived relief. He took out a dagger, and smirked maliciously. I shrieked again, and tried my best to crawl away. My body refused to respond. I still had hope. The child I saved would surely bring help. But as seconds dragged onto minutes, I grew desperate. I shrieked, I screamed, I shouted. Why did no one come? I could see many people walking by the alley I was in, but no one would look in. Those who did would walk by even faster.

Why isn't anyone helping me?

They had abandoned me. Even the person whose life I saved. I truly was just a stepping stone. The psychotic man, who had now officially decided which weapon to torture me with, grew closer with a decorative dagger. Then, as he tore my insides open and ended my pitiable self, I dove into never ending darkness: hate burning in every cell of my body.

As I awoke, the first thing, the first emotion that rang through me was confusion. Clear confusion. I had just died: I was sure of it. As I stole a brief glance at the posh, fancy room I was resided in (one much too expensive for my family to afford), I realized that it could've been possible that the psychotic man had kidnapped me. As I shook in unfiltered fright of what lie ahead of me, I knew that I would need some sort of defense. I cautiously made my way to the huge dressing table in the corner of the room, and then finally noticed my appearance.

I blinked in utter bewilderment, trying to figure out how my appearance that managed to change. I used to have dull brown eyes and hair. Now, I had big, purple eyes and honey brown hair. I was freaked out to say the least. Despite the unavoidable truth that I was definitely far prettier with these vibrant eyes and beautiful hair, I had reached the conclusion that the psychopath had performed plastic surgery on me! The little pig! How else could I have changed so much? In newfound rage, I scrimmaged around until I found a pair of sharp scissors. I would tear apart the man that had caused me all this pain.

I skipped down the staircase, my eyes taking quick looks around the posh residence, trying to pin point the location of my target. Instead, my eyes landed on a neatly written note on the large wooden dining table to my right. I took small steps towards it, secretly fearing what more misery the cursive words would bring along. Taking a deep breath, I picked it up.

To Aki,

I have already sent the maids home for today. You're going have to make do till dinner as you are forbidden from using the kitchen. Perhaps you will learn to get up earlier from now on.

Miura Kyoko

Before I had any time to decipher what the letter before me meant, I felt the weight of a thousand bricks upon my shoulders, and collapsed. I felt an odd sort of nostalgia awaken inside me as memories flashed before my eyes. The strangest part was: they were mine. I felt more waves of confusion fall upon me as I argued with myself: I was not Miura Aki. But the more memories and moments that came by me, the more convinced I became. It was as if I had been given another chance at life. Only then was it that I found that memories were not only coming to me, they were leaving me too. All memories from my past life were leaving me, and before I knew it I was only left with a shadow, an outline of what I was.

But soon, my brows scrunched in uncertainty. Certain bits of knowledge refused to leave me. In my mind was still a clear image of my favourite manga: Assassination Classroom. Not only an image, but I remembered every single tiniest detail. I sighed in relief, and chuckled as I lay like a mental child on the ground. I hummed in happiness. I had something from my past life: I had something to hold onto.

This time, as I awoke it was not confusion, or even fear that greeted me. It was happiness. It was all a dream after all; A silly little nightmare. As I jumped up from my bed enthusiastically, a lock of honey brown hair fell in my eyes.

Dammit.

I groaned as I made my way to my closet, and then gasped at the wide array of expensive clothes. Then, my excitement ended as I realized what fancy apparels my closet was filled with. After what felt like an hour of looking for something un-snooty to wear, I found a purple hoodie and a plain pair of ripped jeans. Grinning to myself, I pulled them on and went down the stairs: skipping one step each time. As I approached the table, I saw my "mother" scrunch her nose in disgust at my outfit. My mother had long white hair which had been tied into a tight knot, and purple eyes bearing an uncanny resemblance to my own. My father, who sat on the side of the table opposite to my mom's, had honey brown hair and pink eyes. Ignoring the two intimidating stares that followed my every move, I sat on my very own huge chair. The cushioning on it was hard, making me squirm uncomfortably. The sides of the gigantic chair were decorated with intricate designs of vines seemingly growing around the whole thing.

My eyes feasted on the delicious looking pancakes that had been served on the gigantic plate set in front of me. I ate it messily with a fork, ignoring my parents that were eating their breakfast carefully with a fork and knife. I feigned ignorance to the large amount of crumbs that were falling to my lap, and sticking to the corners of my mouth. "Stop eating like an ill-mannered pig. It's making me unable to eat my own food: looking at you." My mother ordered me in a monotonous and emotionless voice that sent shivers down my back.

"Of course!" I replied in a sickly sweet voice.

Then I made a point to eat just like "an ill-mannered pig", dropping crumbs all the way to the floor, and accidently rubbing syrup to my face. As a grand finale I gave a loud, obnoxious burp.

"Oops!" I grinned slyly.

My mother got up abruptly, slamming the table with her hands. She glared at the servants standing silently in the corner of the room, sending the scurrying out of the room.

"GET OUT OF THIS ROOM AT THIS INSTANT! I DON'T WANT TO SEE YOUR FACE! YOU ARE TO STAY IN YOUR ROOM FOR A WEEK! DON'T YOU DARE COME OUT!" she yelled with all she had, causing me to cringe violently.

I got up, shaking, to make my way to my bedroom. It's not like she scared me, it's not like her yelling scared me. The crazed look in her eye, the look that told me she would stop at nothing to have her way; that is what scared me.

It terrified me.

It had been days since my horrible run in with my mother. I had been trapped in this hellhole for a countless number of days. I had been receiving small portions of food, mostly consisting of a glass of water and a piece of plain bread each day. My stomach endlessly grumbled, wanting the unreachable. I sighed; reaching for the sketchpad I had busied myself. I glanced outside my window, spotting a small bird. I edged closer slowly, afraid to scare it away. I drew it carefully, sketching each detail I had been presented with: forever preserving it. I felt as if I had been wrapped into a warm embrace by my mother. My real mother. Eyes widened, I grasped at the empty air around me, trying to catch and keep the moment that I remembered her. I missed her: her constant stream of smiles that lightened up the darkest days, and encouragements that told me that all was not lost. She was the think flicker of candlelight that drove me to tomorrow, that told me things wouldn't always me bad.

Once again, she faded out of my memory. And along with her memory, she took along the moments worth of emotion that I felt.

I jumped as the door was thrown open and my mother entered. "Haven't you changed into your nightgown yet?" She spat out as if revolted to be talking to me.

I got up wordlessly, carefully treading my way to my closet: trying not to make the wrong move. She caught sight of the sketch I had made and snorted. "Since when have you been able to sketch? Last I recall, you were unable to draw a straight line."

I clenched my fist, and took a deep breath. "You can actually see something other than your precious reputation and poise?" I mock gasped.

She narrowed her eyes at me, and the warning bells went off in my head. "Is that how a future heir talks to the parents that provide her with so much? Perhaps it would do you well to watch your tone."

"Perhaps! Or maybe it would do me better to show you where the hell you belong and drag you out of whatever demented fantasy you live in!" I shouted, and regretted a mere second later as she ran towards me.

The sharp sting in my cheek was felt before I could register what had happened. She slapped me, I thought dumbfounded. But I had no more time to think of the intensity of her actions, as she grabbed onto my hair, pulled it and threw me onto my bed. I whimpered, trying to get up. She then kneed me painfully in the stomach and pushed me to the ground. Her steps as she left echoed in my mind minutes after she left. Then the reaction fired up.

I began to sob silently, cuddling with the cold floor that I had so harshly been thrown to.

"W-Why am I c-crying?" I asked myself "It's not l-like I care w-what she does! She's n-no one t-to me!"

Why was I scared? It was not as if I was attached to this "mother" of mine. I realized that it wasn't sadness that pushed me to cry, but fear.

I was scared. I was scared of her manipulative nature, how she managed to scare me. I stood up on my wobbly, unsteady legs, only to discover blood. I leaned against the wall for support, barely working up enough power to walk. I looked through my dressing table and found a first aid kit. I unsteadily stumbled over to the bathroom, where I bawled to myself.

Had I really expected anything to get better? People had hurt me one too many times, and I'd gotten hurt. The only one thing that I had learnt was that no matter who it was, they would always hurt you. Intentionally, or unintentionally, the scar would not fade. So there I sat, clenching my fists, hoping that tomorrow would come sooner.

Tomorrow always brought better times, right?

Sooo… There you have it folks! I know it's not the best (not even edited 0.0), but I really wanted to write this. Don't worry though, cuz the mood will lighten up tremendously later! This was just an opening to explain Aki's later decisions and thought process! Anyway, I hope it wasn't as bad as it looks! Please comment me feedback! (I'd also love to know what you think!)