Summary: I am a being of the darkness, watching the world's tragedies from the comfort of the shadows, yet when I laid my eyes upon that child deprived of mercy and salvation, I swore — I will not die until he does.

Tag(s): OC, reincarnation, character has no prior knowledge of Kuroshitsuji, follows the manga, mentions of torture in this chapter

1. Let's Go Home

[21st February 2011]

I'd like to think I liked the name my parents had given me.

My full name consisted of a first name, a middle name and a surname. The first name was chosen by my beloved mother, the middle name was my grandmother's — from my father's side — name and the surname was, of course, my father's. It wasn't overly fancy or exaggerated. It wasn't very "pretty" on paper or nice to the ears either. The point was, it was simple, which made me like it.

I like simple things and I enjoy the simple things in life. An act of kindness, a warm hug, a bright smile, holding hands or joyful laughter — these were my favorite things. I didn't need a wealthy partner, a sports car, food meant for royalty, expensive clothes, precious jewelry or over-glorified trinkets of no use. Money, fame and materialism didn't matter to me, because I did not fall under the illusion of their worth, which was created by society and its misunderstandings.

I didn't mind if my family weren't particularly rich and I had to cut my education short. I didn't mind if I couldn't go to college like the rest of my friends and was forced into adulthood a little too early. I didn't mind if I had to pay the bills and take over grocery shopping. I didn't mind if I became the woman and main supporter of the household. I didn't mind if I had to work two jobs to support my parents when they eventually had to retire.

A name was the very brand that defined a human. My name was simple, therefore I was simple.

That's why it was so easy to adapt the sudden change, the momentous shift in my future because I never took things for granted and never abused the wonders of the continuous evolution of mankind in terms of technology and improvement. The world I knew was nothing more than black blots on paper and spun around and around until everything I've ever known... switched. You could say it was the same as Alice in Wonderland, where Alice had met strange creatures and had to relearn the ways of the world, except —

In the end, Alice woke up and I didn't.

Hers was nothing but a dream from a fitful afternoon nap and mine was the cold reality.

But.

It was okay to die and restart again, I thought. It was like a game that had a reset button without the cheats from the previous life carried over.

. . .

[May 1869]

So I carried on, not as the eighteen year old American girl working in the small bookshop and terrible fast food restaurant, but now a little Romanian girl, who lived far away from the reality that was known as the future, in a land of plants and sheep. The little girl, who was living with her two parents that adored and loved her completely; the mother a French peasant who found comfort in a foreign land after stowing away on a ship and the father, a Romanian man whose family had been farmers for generations.

I adapted and honestly, being a farmer and shepherdess wasn't that bad. Waking up early, tending the crops, feeding the sheep and watching over them — they weren't difficult tasks and I genuinely enjoyed them. The crops were what gave us money to buy necessities we couldn't get through farming or breeding animals and fed us because fresh produce was better than getting the ones at the market, which was a few roads away. The sheep were another source of our income, as well as where we get the material to make useful things like pillows, blankets and clothes.

The climate was mostly similar with the seasons I've experienced in America, only that my body wasn't adapted to the harsh heat of summer or the rough coldness of winter. But it was okay, because I was gradually getting used to the weather and it almost didn't bother me anymore when I was working.

I even had three younger siblings, a girl and two boys. From oldest to youngest, were Marcela, Ioan and Mihail, ages six, five and three respectively. Marcela was a shy girl who loved tending to the flowers with gentle hands, Ioan was a mischievous little imp who liked to scare the sheep when I wasn't looking and Mihail was a precious little boy who couldn't harm a fly. All of them respected and adored me and in turn, I loved and cared for all of them. Ma would say that they looked like ducklings toddling after the mother duck and Pa would say that I was the true leader of the house as I was the only one who could make them take my words to heart when they did something bad.

We weren't exactly a perfect family with a perfect background, but we were as happy as we could be. Content with lives we made for ourselves and satisfied with our way of life that we inherited from Pa.

But because we weren't perfect, it was expected that we had a few flaws.

One of them was Pa, although a loving and kind father, was addicted to gambling and drinking. We knew it was his way of coping with loss, as grandfather, grandmother and aunt, all the relatives from Pa's side who we never met, died in an accident when Pa was sixteen. Yet, I could not help but felt the anger festering and bubbling inside of me when he was in his pathetic state, because it was over a long time ago. He should've gotten over the losses and moved on with his life, because he had us now to love him and him to love us in return.

Another was that Ma loved Pa a lot, but she could never get him to stop. It hurt her, because she loved him too much and it hurt him, because he was constantly on the verge of fully destroying himself. She couldn't bring herself to take the bottle away from him or stop him from going to the pub for midnight gambling. I knew that she was always in tears when Pa shouted and threw fits in the house, telling her to get lost and that he wished that his life wasn't like this. Wished that he didn't settle down and wished that he put more effort into looking for the family lost to time and only alive in broken pieces of memories.

The last but not least, was that I was too young to make a difference. I could not help my father, Pa who would lock himself away in the sheep's barn and constantly drinking himself to death, hiding himself from us and Ma who could not stand up and be strong. All I could do was provide support in the tasks I was given and doing them well. I did my best not to cause trouble for them and I did my best to ignore the dark days where Pa is no longer Pa and Ma is no longer Ma.

I hoped that it would get better because I believed that as long as I was breathing, things would look up. As long as I breathe, I could hope. Sometimes I even prayed to a God out there — any God, really, as long as they could help me, I would worship them forever — for the dark days to go away and let everything turn back into the simple, carefree days where everyone was happy and content. Where the wind blew, the bells chimed, the sheep frolicked in the grass and there was laughter in the air.

Yet, what I did, wasn't enough.

. . .

[August 1887]

One day, my father made a deal with the devil. Not exactly a real devil, per se, but it was close to the ones that the local priest, the Father, preached about to steer clear from. I honestly wasn't sure if it was a mistake or on purpose on his part, as he wasn't home when I was taken away into the darkness I never knew about. Sometimes, I can no longer tell what's real and what's not and most of the time, I don't even want to know the truth. I am not like him, who is stuck in the past. History is history, because I have moved on from those dark days.

Ahem.

Let me start from the beginning of that day, as it went along the lines of something like a silly, humorous tragedy of sorts. That day started out like any other, normal and assuming. I had woken up, ate a piece of bread slathered with some sort of mixed fruit jam and went off to do the tasks since I started this life. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing special. Marcela was planting the new crops while Ioan and Mihael was helping Ma make the fruit jams to sell in the market. From morning to evening, we finished and retired from the outdoor work to indoors, where we all helped Ma prepare for dinner. Pa wasn't home that day and from the red rims around Ma's eyes, I knew he was at it again.

It wasn't until we set the table when someone knocked on the door. Ma was busy with stirring the soup, so she asked me to answer the door for her, as Marcela was too shy around strangers and the boys were still considered too young to handle others, especially when the two of them were too trusting for their own good. As the third oldest of the house and when Ma and Pa aren't available, I was the next that was considered a responsible adult.

The knocking increased, both in amount and volume. The stranger at the door was getting impatient and I had no choice but to shout, "I'm coming, please wait a moment!"

As I reached the door and opened it, I found three men, all who did not look like anyone I've met, which meant they weren't commoners. Judging by their clothes, they looked like they belong to a higher order of sorts, but not the royalty themselves. Maybe they were knights or minor lords, but I didn't know the hierarchy well enough to be sure of their status. It never concerned me anyways.

"Is this Darius Petrescu's home?" asked one of them, a man in his mid-thirties, who sported a balding head and a mustache. He smiled and I couldn't help the feeling of suspicion rise within me. He was asking for Pa, but I knew these people weren't his friends or even acquaintances. They looked too high up to bother with a farmer, or his family.

But I didn't lie and this would prove to be my downfall later on. I should've known.

"Pa's not home. What do you want with him?" I narrowed my eyes at them. From afar, it looked like I was being overly unfriendly and extremely hostile for no good reason. But honestly, I just had a gut feeling that they weren't people you could trust.

"Oh, good, good." his smile turned even wider while the other two had a grin of their own as well to match. I wasn't sure why they were so happy that Pa wasn't home if he wasn't looking for him. I could only raise an eyebrow, a goodbye in my mouth since I thought that they would go away if they didn't find Pa, until I was suddenly grabbed and dragged forward.

"L-let go of me- mgfhhh—" I shouted, but was interrupted when a hand covered my mouth. One of them took rope and tied my hands and feet together.

"Since we grabbed the girl already, let's go—" the first man said and made a move to turn around, until Ma came out running from the kitchen, looking frenzied and confused.

"What are you doing with my daughter?!" she shouted furiously, unfortunately armed with only a broom in her hand.

Meanwhile, I was panicking, because they were clearly kidnapping me and the cold truth was laid in front of me. My mother would not be able to save me, as she could not go against three men at once due to the difference in build and there was Marcela and the boys to worry about. There was no one else to help as well, as all of them were at town and our land was a little far from it. I continued to struggle on my own, trying to wriggle out of the man's tight grasp, but to no avail.

"Look at her, she has the same blonde hair, but her's is much darker than the girl's." one of them muttered and I was puzzled as to why hair color was relevant to the situation, but then realization hit me. This might be a case of slave trading, but I didn't know that it would actually happen. "Should we take her too?"

"No, we only agreed on the girl and we only want young ones for the special ceremony." the first man replied back to the companion. Then he looked at Ma and said, "Miss, you should be asking your husband that, not us. He was the one who agreed to give his first born away, a girl with the brightest blonde hair when he lost in gambling."

I stopped struggling and froze.

Pa did this?

That time, I thought it was a lie and it was just a terrible dream I was having. I tried scratching my thumb, biting the inside of my cheek and biting my tongue, but I didn't wake up.

It was no use because I was already awake.

The thought of him, the man who I respected and loved enough to tolerate his poor behavior and method of handling his problems, had betrayed my expectations and betrayed all of us. It burned and I could no longer think clearly. I could feel that rush of anger, resentment and betrayal branded on me like cattle and although the emotions were as hot as fire, there was also a startling emptiness within me.

The memory of that night isn't very clear, but I remembered bits and pieces of the man explaining to Ma, obviously confident that they could get away as he continued to talk and waste time. I remembered the devastated look on Ma's face and how there were so many tears and choked sobs. I remember the little children running out, screaming at the men and then at the world, not to take their dearest sister away. I remembered the horses neighing and the little land we had that I called home, was lost to me forever. I remember the cold air I inhaled and it was as if I could no longer breathe.

At thirteen, the good days I knew had vanished and the dark days I disliked, turned into uncountable days I could not stand, darker than the cold nights of Romania and blacker than sins of men.

Soon, everything seemed like a pipe dream.

. . .

[? ? ?]

Even though the days I knew were lost forever, it didn't mean they stopped. Time waited for no one and I was no exception. The only difference was that I lived at the mercy of the three men who took me away. The days were sand, slipping through my fingers as I futilely tried to count and put them in order and I couldn't tell when was night or day.

They weren't men looking to get a free slave they could sexually abuse to their heart's uttermost sick fantasies and desires, no. They had far worse fantasies than doing dirty deeds with a little girl, just as there were far worse things than death. I happened to get the short end of the stick and because I was just a powerless little girl, I couldn't do anything.

Everyday, I was deprived of basic human rights. I was clothed in the barest of cloth, fed unwanted cold scraps and my bed was the stone floor. I was forced to entertain them by hurting myself and if I didn't, they would do it themselves. I was forced to collect the blood flowing from my cut skin by stabbing myself deep and letting the liquid flow into a cup. I was made to rub salt into my wounds and I was dunked into boiling hot water. I had to let needles poked into my back. I had to dance on a floor of hot, burning coal and metal.

All I could do was grit my teeth and bear it, for I could not escape.

Like I said, I was powerless. With no way of escape and freedom beyond a stone room that held all my pain and shame, I was locked up from the world and there was nothing I could do to change my fate. I was destined to die here, sooner or later. I would not be able to meet my family again, I would not tell Ma and the kids that I love them and I would not be able to look at my father with hate in my eyes, directed at him, so he will know that he had caused my immense suffering.

Until one day, I broke free. From the desperation, despair, fear, anger and the old betrayal, to the moment where I was so close to death from the major blood loss when one of the men had too much fun watching me bleed, cry and scream in the wooden box and to the moment where the world turned black once more —

I opened my eyes and there was nothing but blood and broken screams, for once that did not belong to me.

Blood that was splattered onto the walls and the floor and screams that died out eventually. I could no longer feel pain and when I stood up, I saw the horrors — or was it salvation? — I had probably done. To save myself before I went completely mad and died mad.

Just like how I was taken into the darkness, I turned to the darkness.

(Did I die again?)

(But it doesn't matter, does it?)

I killed them and became the devil.

(I did the worse possible thing a person could do.)

(But I was no longer a person and I could feel nothing but relief and joy when I saw their rolling heads and frozen expressions of terror.)

. . .

[? ? ?]

Once I escaped from the place of my nightmares, stealing a maid's casual clothes in the process, I set out to go back home. I wanted to see Ma, Marcela, Ioan and Mihael again. I wanted to tell my father I hated him. I wanted to tend to the crops again. I wanted to see a sheep and hug one. I wanted to go to the town and buy the most expensive candies they had.

I asked around the people about the Petrescu farmers and their land, getting some information about their whereabouts, the directions to get to the land and even hearing rumors about how they all separated. I didn't believe the rumors and absorbed anything that would help me get back home, like a possessed madman. There was nothing on my mind but going home and seeing their faces and the familiar surroundings again.

It didn't matter if it wasn't the same anymore. I just wanted days like those to return like it should. I just wanted to go home again and let everything be normal. Simple, as it should be.

Home, home, home, my mind chanted. Let's go home.

I don't know how long it took to get by, to go through pubs, to ask people the same set of questions and the countless of attempts of convincing carriage drivers to let me hitch a ride. The only thing that kept me going, was my desire for that sense of normalcy and simplicity again.

Home, home, home.

Let's go home.

When I got down from the carriage carrying hay, paid the driver and arrived at the familiar town I remember growing up nearby, I finally let myself smile. The weird looks, whispers and stares I got, the strange foreboding feeling and the tiny pessimistic voice in my head could not stop the smile and the happiness.

I walked up to the bakery and greeted the woman manning the store. It was the same store owner as I remembered and my smile couldn't help widened at that thought. She looked at me and was suddenly pale, as if she saw a ghost but I paid no heed and asked her for an blueberry pie, because the kids loved it and it was the only thing Ma couldn't make. I gave her a silver coin and she stammered while looking for change, since a pie only cost two bronze coins. I then told her it was a tip, took the pie and left the store.

Nothing changed, I thought. Everything is going to be okay. I'm okay.

I didn't get easily tired anymore, so walking through a few roads weren't much trouble. At some point, I started skipping with the pie in my hands, earning some stares from some that were walking the road as well. I was so, so happy that I escaped and lived. I was so happy that I could see them again. I was so happy that things would be simple again.

When I saw the brown fences, I ran forward. The house I call home was close. Just a few meters closer and I would be there.

But the simple times I wanted were already gone since that night and the pie in my hands dropped onto the ground, as the land I expected from that memory I clung onto, didn't exist anymore. The house was overgrown with greenery, the plots were empty of crops, the flowers blooming wildly and the missing presence of sheep.

. . .

[June 1887]

I ran towards town at full speed, not caring that the pace I was running should be impossible for humans. I sped into the bakery I went into moments earlier. I didn't run out of breath, but I did scare the old woman, but there was no time for pleasantries.

But the words didn't come out of my mouth. Instead, it was the store owner who spoke.

"A-are you Darius and Amalia's girl?" the old woman asked, her hands reached out to touch my face, wanting to confirm whether I was real or an illusion. When her fingertips touched my cheeks, she started crying and mumbling about Gods and miracles. "Oh my goodness —" I didn't hear the rest of what she babbled about.

I didn't — couldn't — answer. I felt speechless and my throat was constricted with something invisible.

The only thing I could do was nod frantically and ask, "Where's Ma, Pa and the kids?", my voice strangely croaky and my face was wet. I couldn't control the sudden surge of doubt and then the waves of grief when she told me.

It had to be a lie, but she assured me it wasn't, no matter how she didn't want it to be the truth either.

I felt broken.

There is no God or miracles.

There is only me, a demon made from desperation and death and memories of a happy family, now scattered to the four winds.

It's been three years.

. . .

[? ? ?]

Once again, I didn't care how long it took, because I had all the time in the world.

I was going to find them.

I had to.

I wanted to know why.

I had to, wanted to, needed to —

Desperately, now or never —

Or else where would I return to?

. . .

[March 1880]

Another 1825 days, 60 months, 20 seasons — 5 years until I found them and when I saw their current lives, how happy and content they were... I felt that they broke the little faith that I had left inside of me in them. How could they just merrily go about their lives, when I spent three years suffering and another five years searching far and wide, for them?

There was no words that could be used to describe it.

Pa had tossed me aside like I was nothing and Ma and the kids forget all about me when I wasn't able to come back quick enough. Pa didn't save me even though it was his fault and Ma and the kids didn't want to wait for me. They left me to rot, to go on with their merry lives.

In that instant, I declared that they were no longer family in my heart and left without even appearing in front of them.

I was livid and the old resentment and scars had resurfaced and were itching badly.

If I was as good as dead to them, then they didn't exist in my eyes.

. . .

Let's go home.

What a lie it is.

I sunk into the shadows of the night and finally noticed how comfortable the darkness was.

For me, there was no home anymore.

A/N: This took so much time to write, dear god I almost died. xD But wow, the beginning is pretty long and I'm proud of that. I wanted to write a demon!OC working in the Phantomhive mansion without SebastianxOC or romance as its main focus and without recapping canon, so this happened, haha. So far, I don't think I've seen a French-Romanian OC in the OC/SI part of the Kuroshitsuji archive either, so yeah, originality yay!

Please leave a review and tell me what you think. ^^