Dark shadows envelop the town during the frostbitten night. It would be the day everything changes in my life; I'm 'Sarafine', but all my 'friends' call me Sara. That night was a dark one full of blood and tears; it will become the night I kill my 'family.' I start out laying in my bedroom on the second story across the hall from my older brother, Erickson, and next to the oldest sibling, my sister, Ilene; my parents, as if one could call them that, are down on the first floor in their grand master room. I was fast asleep upstairs for the time being. My long pink locks entwine around my wrists by twisting around and around like handcuffs from the terror this constantly occurring nightmare leaves me in. My body quakes in fear as my original family's massacre began a play-by-play accounting in my mind; it is rare a child, nevertheless a three year old, could survive a fright like the one I had that night. These folks I was living aside aren't the loving individuals they pretend to be for my Kindergarten teacher, Miss. Ray; no, they are cold-blooded killers who had murdered my family for their money, and the only reason I am still alive is because of my exotic looks. I have petal pink hair and vibrant apple green eyes that whispered my emotions for all to hear. It is time I give them the same treatment my true folks had gotten; I will mark my revenge no matter the cost.

My eyes shoot open as fantasy's hands yank my dream self up; I can sense the trails of tears on my ashen face, and the dried blood cracking on the palm of my hands as I removed my fingernails from digging into the dirtiness of my body. I am older now, and I refuse to let these worthless humans create an emotionless robot for their dirty deeds. I will no longer be bossed around or beaten to a crimson pulp. I am not that person anymore; I feel stronger than I've even been.

I let my hand creep under my miniscule pillow to grasp the silver dagger I have recently took up carrying around. I slip out of my room and into the hallway; first, I have to take out my 'brother and sister' in order for those monsters I have to call mother and father to truly have their name taken from the world. I walk across the hall and enter Erickson's room; I reach his bedside in moments and gaze upon his false peaceful face complete with freckles randomly placed throughout his ruddy cheeks; I bring the dagger down to craft a clean slice across his neck effectively taking him out. Scarlet liquid crafts a trail behind me from the knife, and I rapidly reach my sister's bed. My heart races in my chest as I look at her ebony locks twisted into an elaborate knot at the nape of her neck; I feel the adrenaline course through my veins and repeat the same procedure as I had done with Eric to Ilene.

I run out of the room and slide down the railing for the staircase to reach my parent's room; I take a sharp left and immediately I am in their room. The ivory carpet kept my feet from making any noise. Memories flood to the front of my mind as I remember where the weapon that had killed my actual family is located. I reach the faux wall; gently pushing, I am let into a room with a golden sword in a display case, and I am quickly getting into it so these killers will receive the same punishment. I am out of the extended room as soon as I had entered; my body moves without conscious thought to the bed containing those wretched people. The precious sword lets out a muted swoosh sound as I continually bring it down to create a series of crisscrosses to develop a pattern of bark onto my 'father,' Ryan; next, I smoothly drag the metal across Ileanette, my 'mother;' her body became a cascade of graceful cherry blossoms onto a horrid canvas. Stepping back, I pride in the beautiful work I had done.

I grab for both items, my silver dagger and the golden sword, and make a dash for the front door; my hands shove open the wooden rectangle; my feet carry me farther away from that prison cell. I run and run until I can no longer move, and only then do I pause for a rest in a dark alley where all the homeless took shelter. A child next to where I took a seat has the most glorious oceanic blue eyes and navy hair spiked high into the air; the most intriguing characteristic of his, however, was his skin... a tint of blue could be seen all over, and he had gills tattooed on his cheeks. If I wasn't so tired, I probably would ask him millions of questions about himself, but that is not what happens; instead, my head slowly falls into his jean-clad legs, and slumber overtakes me.