Cho could see things. Things no one else could see. She could see the shadows of roses on people's faces when they were sad. She could see the big tall figures that roamed along the Earth, wings flapping, holding notebooks in their hands. Sometimes, Cho could even see people, people that weren't there any more, that had died years before. The little girl would run to them, when it looked like she was running at an empty corner, a deserted doorway.

When she held her older brother of three years' hand, Cho was safe though. She tried not to look at those things; they scared her then, made her cry. Burying her pale face in his coat she would try not to look.

"Cho…" he would murmur to her. "Cho, its okay." She loved that. It was like he knew exactly why she sometimes burst into tears at a street corner, or start running randomly on her long, thin legs. Even though he didn't…and she knew that. It felt so good to have him stroke her like that.

Cho had black hair. It was long, almost to the small of her back and a lot of times uncombed. There was no comb anyways, they didn't have much in the small cardboard shack Cho and her brother lived in, all alone.

Why Cho could see things (at least she thought) was because of her eyes. Not her blackberry hair, not her snow pale skin. Her eyes…They were big, luminous and purple. Yet, that wasn't the odd part; the purple was ringed with a violent bloody red. Around her irises was a red circle, something that had been there since her birth 11 years ago. Cho hated them. She wished she could buy sunglasses. A big, round pair. The kind that covered up half of your face and covered her eyes. They would be the first purchase she would ever make…

But would she? Cho and her brother were poor. So poor they couldn't even rent out a room. Cho wondered if they had any money at all. They ate what they stole and lived alone, dodging the authorities.

The authorities who would take both of them and lock them up in the big orphanage downtown. St. Michael's was what it was called. The children in it were pale and sad and wore ugly itchy gray uniforms all year round. Cho's brother told her if they ever were put in there they would be separated and hurt. He told her to stay away from all of the police and dogcatchers. They lived free and alive and would run through the streets all night and day, playing games of hide and seek and tag or just running.

That was why they were both fast, particularly Cho, whose small limber form and long, long blackberry black hair gave her a speed that cut through the air like a blade. And when she and her brother lay in the box shack at night under the two threadbare down quilts, cuddling close for body heat from each other she felt safe and warm and happy, even though they were hungry and skinny and cold.

Those were the bright beautiful days that Cho wanted to live in forever and ever and never get old. But our story has to begin, doesn't it? It's filled with hate and love and deceit and truth and joy and fiery tears. Of hate and of men, yet of women as well; all about them joined and broken apart and together at the same time.

Do you want to hear it?

It all started on that day. Wednesday to be exact, according to Cho's big brother's calendar he'd snagged from a traveling merchant. It was all about cherries and chocolate. It made Cho hungry but it also revealed her favorite food. Cherries and chocolate. Cherries dipped in chocolate. Chocolate bars with cherries in the middle all mushy and yummy. The black haired girl craved them all day and dreamt about them at night. She'd had some once and it was delicious…Cho couldn't describe it.

This is how it started and ended: with cherry chocolate. That sunny, clear, cold October Wednesday Cho ran up to a candy seller. She could smell the aroma of fresh chocolate from down the street and couldn't bear to have it taken away. She'd broken away from her brother and run towards it. A red curtain covered the caravan door. It was an old fashioned seller. He had put up incense and draped it like a gypsy caravan.

"Hello?!" Cho called in her small voice. "Do you have any cherries? Or chocolate? Or both?" her breath caught as a man stepped out. He was tiny and bent over. His face was crinkled up with lines and he wore a cloak which was-like the rest of his shop-red.

"Cho!" he called. She gasped, her eyes growing wide. Maybe she should go back to her brother.

"What do you want!? How do you know my name?" Cho balled up her fists and glared at the man with a fierce expression. The man just laughed at her fury and put his arms around her neck in a kind of hug.

"It's all right. I know everything and everyone, as well as the fact," here he lowered his scratchy voice. "that YOU, Cho, you and your brother don't have parents and should be at St. Michaels."

Cho flared, jerking away from this scary old man. "Hurt me or my brother and I'll KILL you!" she said sharply. It sounded wrong in her loud but little chipmunk voice.

The man laughed again and sighed. "Oh, Cho. Unless you steal, I will not lay a single hand on your lives."

Cho nodded thinking, "This'll be easy. He trusts me. I'll have more cherry chocolate than I can eat in a year." So, the man disappeared into the shop, and Cho waited, bouncing around.

Finally, after what felt to the impatient child like years, the old man came out with a basket. Not a handful, a BASKET of chocolates. Cho's eyes bulged. They were cherry chocolates. He laid them down.

"How much?" Cho asked immediately. She didn't have anything.

"For you? 10 pounds."

Cho sighed. In dollars that was like $20. She hadn't seen that much money in years and years. She would have to do this quickly and cleanly. With one hand, she picked up a big, long box of cherry cordials. Her fingers shook as she held it in her lap and traced it again and again. Old man watched her carefully. Her other hand darted out, and the man followed it with his eyes. Carefully, making sure to keep the darting hand moving, Cho slid the cherry cordials into her jeans.

She drew her hand back and smiled at the old man. "Too much. I've gotta go." She said angelically, standing up. The man looked at her gravely. His black pupils seemed to widen and grow, covering his eyes. He grew taller and even thinner. His long red cloak turned black and flew out towards Cho, wrapping around her ankles. "You stole Cho."he said in a voice that could freeze time.

Cho screamed, screamed out her brother's name, for help. No one seemed to be seeing anything. People stopped and stared at her, the crazy little girl who, to them was thrashing and whacking at an invisible opponent. She turned and scrambled for her life but I did no good, the fabric from this candy-selling monster's cloak was taut. One way. Cho blushed even as she did it, even under these circumstances. She twisted and yanked out of her jeans. The invisible cordials came spilling out onto the ground, scattering everywhere.

People gasped and some hurried off, hoping to get away from her. The cloak's grip was mostly on her jeans so Cho was free, though donned only in her underwear. She ran. Used all those years of playing tag and ran. The monster followed, reaching and reaching and reaching. Cho ran faster and faster, her thick bangs pushed back out of her eyes, air making her mouths inside cool and minty.

"HELP! ANYONE! BROTHER!!! HELP!!!" she screamed, running and running and running, the monster pursuing her into alleyways, up a fire escape, into and through an empty old house, which creaked and cracked even as skinny Cho came running through.

Suddenly all was quiet and she squeezed through a tall gate saw a tower, a boy, a sign.

Whammy's House.

All was silent as Cho felt the blackness melt into her vision like cherry chocolate.

And THAT was only the prologue-ish thing.