In this world that is so merciless
We are the ones God does not bless
Now our hearts begin to grow old
Because each is left without hope, and forced to fold
And I beg of you
Please give me something to hold on to
So I won't break
Dispose of this horrible ache
And blood drips in place of tears
No one can help us escape our fears
Because everything that's right is wrong
And everything that's left we wish was gone
Is there anybody out there
This life is only one nightmare
When your reflection makes you want to die
And all that's left is the word goodbye
The crooked moon shines down
And illuminates this ghost town
Because on your own it's hard to rest
And living is just one big waste of death
Five years have passed since my brother abandoned me.
I strum swiftly on my guitar, watching as the people pass. They occasionally glance my way with disapproving stares, but it's a rarity for anyone to stop and listen.
And that's why I am in shock when a white haired boy, with a scar across his left eye, slows as he walks by. I pretend not to notice him standing there as I sing.
He sways slightly to the tune as I roar my lyrics. And it makes me feel okay for once.
And so when he leaves my heart begins to ache once more.
I hide my instrument behind one of the shops before heading over to one of the nearby bars. I have become extremely well known in Paris, mainly for being the cause of, or somewhat entangled in, 10% of crime in the city. People refer to me as the Fleur Enfer.*
I don't look like a Fleur Enfer. I am a pretty girl dressed in striped tights under short shorts. With a black top, and a woven black cap, hiding my short blond hair. But I guess that's what the Fleur part is referring to.
I spot a peculiar, well-dressed man carrying a black suitcase.
He looks wealthy and confident, the perfect combination of an ignorant human to act as my prey. I get moving, unobtrusively strolling his way. I'm almost to him when a small dog waddles along between us.
I use the dog as an easy excuse to trip and fall into him, but as I reach for his wallet, his gloved hand intercepts my arm.
"So you thought you could pick pocket me, eh?"
From my perspective there is only one option.
I knee the man in the stomach and run. I don't look back to see whether he's chasing me or not. But it doesn't matter even if he is. Because I know this city like the back of my hand and can escape anyone.
I climb up an uneven wall to the top of a building and proceed to jump across the rooftops.
It is now night and my dark clothes blend in well with the black backdrop. The only ones who realize my presence are the people inside the dwellings, who can clearly hear the loud clunks of my boots above them.
The moon shines brilliantly tonight, and the stars look like soft light glimmering off diamonds
I am so engrossed in the night that I almost topple off the side of the building. And in my distress I think I see a white head of hair in the alley bellow. I peer down, and my suspicions are proved correct, because it is the boy from earlier.
And I form and idea in my mind. And if you know me, you will know that that never means anything good.
So I hop down from my perch, and directly in front of the kid. I wasn't anticipating landing where he could see me, but I make do. I punch him in the gut, then flick open my switchblade knife and press it against his neck.
"I'm gonna give you two options, kid. I can either kill you now, and take all your money, and leave you here for some poor fellow to find you in the morning. Or you can come with me, and we can play a game."
"Um…" the boy swallows, he's not quite as frightened as I would expect him to be, but he's scared enough, "Not killing me would be fine, thank you."
"Oh my God, this is gonna be so fun!" I grab his wrist and pull him along as I run.
We stop behind a café, a spot a choose specifically for its isolated location. "So what's your name?"
"Allen Walker." He gulps.
"I'm Nora Mikk!"
He doesn't respond.
"Relax, Allen, I wasn't ever really gonna hurt you, I just wanted to play a game."
"So you mugged me?!"
"I just wanted to get your attention!"
"That's an odd way to get someone to notice you."
"…It is?"
He puts his palm to his face and sighs. "You're insane. How old are you anyway?"
"You're asking me! I can't tell if you're eight or eighty!" I am referring to his white hair.
"I'm twelve!"
"I'm fifteen!"
And now there is a gap in our conversation.
"So what game do you want to play?" He asks.
"Cards! We're gonna play poker."
"I don't really know how."
"Its okay, I'll teach you!"
And so I explain all the rules.
We talk. I learn that he is apprenticed to a man named Cross, and that his master has an inability to manage his money. Apparently, the boy works all day every day just to pay off the man's debts, and only brings a small amount of the cash he earns.
And I do the kid a favor. This "favor doing" is new to me, since I don't really mingle with others often, besides street thugs anyway, and I find it slightly rewarding. I teach the kid all my tricks and cheats, and I actually enjoy myself for once.
And I have the time of my life playing with Allen, because only then to I realize he is as close to a friend as I have ever had.
And the heart ache returns when the sun rises, when the boy leaves once more.
* Hell flower
