Look What You're Doing To Me (Prologue)

Bare feet padded down the hallway. The cool metal almost burned Phoebe's feet. It was too cold. And the blood was so warm. She remembered so distinctly the way hitting an artery was like opening a dam. Spatter still stained her white hair. Her hair, she was always teased about it, but it was a genetic condition, one she couldn't control. 'Grandma' they called her. It didn't bother her that much, but it was still annoying. Anyways, back to the present she thought. She was alone in a part of the Ark she had never ventured. She was 12 years old. She had a bloody knife in her hand and was wearing a nightgown from the past. She should have been crying. That's what a normal person would do. But Phoebe was no normal person. She had seen her parents floated. For most, they could move on, but not her. She wanted vengeance.