Hey everyone! It's a wonderful day (or evening for some), isn't it? NO MORE EXAMS FOR ME. YAAAY! Well, I finished another chapter, so here it is! I hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas break/vacation/ect! Hope you enjoyed your food comas!

Also, I'm sorry that this chapter's so late. I've had family and... things happen. My friend lost her father in an accident, and I've been spending time with her. It has been written for some time now, I just haven't had a chance to post it.

- Soul

Disclaimer: D. Gray-Man is owned by Katsura Hoshino. Not me. Which makes me sad.

Black Hearts and Battle Scars

Chapter 1: Everyone Has a History.

I remember when I got my piece of Innocence. I guess you could say it was the day that I was truly born.

You see, when I was young, my parents put me up for adoption. As a child, we never really had enough money, and we were forced to go without food for days at times. My parents thought that any life that I could have, even if it was spent living in an orphanage, would be better then what I had at that time.

But as I stood staring at those wrought-iron gates that seemed so sinister, I thought that my parents hated me.

And after some time, I began to hate them.

Three years after they left me there, I tried escaping for the thirty-fifth time.

"Have you heard? Andrea tried running away again!"

"Why would she do that?"

"Well, her parents left her here, you know. Maybe she's trying to get back to them!"

"Oh please, why would they want her back, if they left her here? They didn't love her."

"I wonder what she did to make her parents abandon her."

"Who cares? She's just a freak."

I sighed softly, and backed away from my bedroom door. I had been laying on the floor with my ear pressed to the crack under the hard wooden surface, and it was quite cold. The room I was staying was drafty and cold- as was the rest of the building, to tell the truth. But what I had heard outside my door... hurt. I had convinced myself that my parents hated me, and I had finally accepted that aspect about my life. That didn't mean that I had to be reminded about it constantly. A frown spread across my face, as I clambered back to my feet, and trudged back to my small bed at the corner of my room.

My room, if that is what it could be called, was tiny. Everything about it was dull and grey, not a spec of colour filled the emptiness that was my living space. My bed was twin-sized and was covered in equally grey sheets. One pillow- if it could be called that- was stuffed into the corner, where my bed met the wall, and my covers were rumpled. A single window was on the wall opposite of my door, and sat just out of my reach. Though, that didn't matter anyway; I was on the third story of the Saint Anne Orphanage for Young Women. I didn't know exactly where it was, just that it was a day's walk (for a little girl) away from Bristol, in southern England.

A knock on my door pulled me from my thoughts, and I scrambled to the side of my bed. I tossed my hair over my shoulder, and clasped my hands in front of me.

An elderly woman stepped into the room, her black habit standing out harshly in the dull grey-ness of the room. She had a soft smile on her face, as she held a hand out to me, "Are you ready to come out of your room, and eat some supper with the rest of us?" Her voice, despite her frail appearance, was strong. I knew this woman as Matron Melanie.

I sneered, and tilted my head upwards in defiance.

The Matron sighed softly, and stepped into the room, "Now now, my dear. You need to eat."

As she took a step closer, I took another step back, "I want to be left alone Matron."

She shook her head, "I will not have you be a recluse, young lady. Now please, come

downstairs and eat." Her voice had an edge to it; an edge I was all too familiar with.

Instead of resisting once more, I slouched my shoulders forward, and trudged out of the room.

The trip down to the dining room was silent, and I was glad that the Matron Melanie didn't feel the need to fill the silence with needless talk.

The moment we stepped into the dining room, though, the steady thrum of conversation and merry-making that once took over the room fell deathly silent. The heady aroma of well-cooked food filled the room, and my stomach grumbled loudly. As I walked over to my spot at the long table, some of the girls began talking amongst themselves.

"Her family left her here."

"Abandoned..."

"... I feel sorry for whoever adopts her."

"Freak.."

I didn't say anything, and simply sat down in my chair. My fists were clenched in my lap, and I could feel the blunt edges of my nails digging in to the palms of my hands. I knew that I was going to regret it later, but at the moment, I didn't really care. I wouldn't give the other girls the satisfaction of seeing me snap and have a fit.

Dinner had started without me, and I was glad that I didn't have to sit around and listen to the Sister's pray, and wait to eat my food. Instead, I lifted my hands in front of me, and pretended to murmur a prayer under my breath. What the nuns didn't know, wouldn't hurt them. It's not like I believed in God, anyway. If He existed, then my parents wouldn't have abandoned me, nor would there be any need for any orphanages like the drab, grey one that made up my life.

When I finished my prayer, I quickly dove into my food, my stomach growling loudly as I quickly (or, as quickly as I dared; I didn't want my knuckles to be smacked by a wooden spoon) spooned the thick stew into my mouth.

The taste wasn't all that great, but it was all that I had. I noticed with a hint of dismay that we didn't have any rolls to go with our food, but pushed that to the back of my mind. It wasn't like we were the richest of orphanages. The fact that I had food in my belly was good enough for me.

When dinner was over, all of the girls were told to wash their hands and go play. We had a few more hours of daylight, before we were ushered back inside. For some reason, the nuns that watched over the orphanage were wary of letting us stay out past the time the sun had started to set. I had snuck out on many occasions during the night, and nothing bad ever happened to me.

Speaking of sneaking out... I was entertaining thoughts of trying another escape attempt. The Sisters wouldn't expect another one so soon (or so I had hoped). This one would mark my thirty-fifth escape attempt.

Only this time, I wouldn't be caught.

I don't know what time it was when I opened my eyes later that night, but I figured it was late. The moon, shining bright, was high in the night sky, and all was silent in the orphanage. I slid as quietly as I could out of my bed, and set my bare feet on the floor, so that I wouldn't wake anyone who slept in the room below mine up.

I knelt down on the floor, and reached under my bed for my shoes, and pulled them closer to me. They were a size too big and heavy; they would make noise if I wore them, but it wasn't as if I could just leave them there and go running around in my stockings.

I sat there for a few moments, staring down at them. I was reasoning the pros and cons of having my shoes with me, and let out a soft sigh. They didn't have any laces, so I would have to either carry them in my hands, or I would have to find something to put them in.

I set both of my shoes down on my bed, and crept over to my door. I turned the knob as quietly as I could, and pulled it open, wincing when the hinges creaked. I halted in my movements and strained my ears, listening for anything that would tell me that someone was alerted to my being awake.

A soft sigh escaped my throat when I was met with nothing but silence.

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