The girl's parents had met in a rather different way.
One, they were both musicians.
Music was their life, their soul. They couldn't live without music.
Music is what brought them together.
Music is what made them fall in love with each other.
They had given birth to a healthy baby girl.
She was called Musa for as she was the musical weaving of their lives together.
She had everything of her mother's features as she looked nothing like her father, which was a degree of relief to the both of them.
Musa was the angel the mother had been dreaming of.
She was the light against the darkness, the light against the shadows.
She was her mother's calm before the storm.
Death was descended upon her.
Death was waiting.
Death had been waiting to take her home.
The little girl did not want to let go.
She clutched her mother's clammy hand tightly.
Mother and daughter looked into each other's eyes and crystalline teardrops fell from them.
This was goodbye.
A forever goodbye.
She didn't want to lose her.
Be left alone.
Death.
It would signify the ending of something that would change the life of her daughter forever.
The girl, now at the age of sixteen, was not the same little girl she was.
She was no longer happy.
She was moody and melancholic.
Her empath powers had just kicked in.
She could feel everything. Negative or positive.
Father and daughter eventually had a falling out.
But even years after her mother's death she didn't want to feel that.
Not now. Not ever. Not when her mind was a cage, her mind filled with poison.