Author: Anna (SlayrGrl55)
Rating: PG-13 for language
Feedback: please review! it will make my day :)
Disclaimer: I don't own BtVS, I just rented it from Joss… and I think he over charged me…
Summary: Faith is 16 years old and her mother has just died. She's been called as slayer and her world is torn apart. Can a new friend help her put it back together? (This will be the story of Faith's life before Sunnydale. I'm going to try to keep her as in character as possible, but I'm also going to try to explain why she is the way she is.)
Chapter 2: ShatteredWithout fail, the sun rises the next morning. Unfortunately, her bedroom window lets in that light and it sprays her in the face like cold water. She rubs her eyes before she can open them; the tears from the previous night have dried there. Pulling back the covers she mumbles something incoherent about how curtains are supposed to block out the light, but her mother had always been the one to close the curtains when she came home from work every night. It was little actions like closing her bedroom curtains that made Faith tolerate her mother on those drunken nights.
After violently pulling the curtains, closed Faith turns to the mirror above her dresser. Her hair is a mess and she decides she needs to shower. She strips off all her clothes, because after all there is no one home to see her, and she crosses the hallway to the bathroom. She turns on the water and lets it run for a few seconds before it is warm enough for her to use.
For a while she doesn't even move to wash her hair or her body. She stands, silently, as her thoughts take her away again. She remembers just last week she had washed her hair, scrubbing to get the dried blood out of it. She hadn't meant to push me that hard. She was drunk, she wasn't thinking straight. When she snaps out of it she realizes that she must get cleaned up and she reaches for the apple scented shampoo.
When she emerges from the shower the bathroom is so full of steam that she cannot see herself in the mirror. She wraps herself in a towel and stands in front of the sink, using her hand to wipe away the fog. When she sees her reflection she wants to look away. She looks tired, too tired for her young age of sixteen, but her eyes do not move and for a split second she sees her mother's casket. Disturbed, she jumps back. What the hell? She leans on the sink for support and once again the tears obscure her vision. No, not again. She wills herself not to cry. I hate crying. But the tears do not hear her plea and they come anyway. As she gets more and more worked up, she grabs at her hair and finally releases a scream of anguish. She shakes her head, telling herself that this is not happening.
No, no, no, no, NO! In a flash her fist hits the mirror and it shatters to pieces. Suddenly she is shaken from of her outburst and she looks at the floor where the remnants of the mirror lay. She is amazed at her own strength, but credits it to her anger. Anger is strange like that. It gives you strength that you shouldn't have.
Sinking to the floor, she begins to cry again. The glass cuts the bottoms of her feet and while she sits and cries the blood travels through the indents in the floor tiling. Time has no meaning as she sits there, the only thing that she hears are the sirens of the ambulances as her mother is rushed to the hospital…
Hours later she is dressed. Her hair is pulled into an unruly ponytail and her sneakers aren't tied. Sliding into a chair at the kitchen table, she sips at a glass of orange juice and nibbles at a piece of buttered toast. She reaches for the remote and turns on the small black and white television in the counter. She flips through channels, not searching for anything in particular… just searching. A news station catches her attention and she raises the volume to hear it better.
"A vicious murder rocks the small town of Sunnydale, California. Last night a teenage girl was murdered in a high school library. The police believe it was gang related. When police arrived, one suspect was still there. Buffy Summers, a student at the high school with a history of violence, was at the scene of the crime. She escaped police custody and is currently on the loose." The newscaster's unsympathetic voice rambled on as a picture appeared on the screen. It was of a young girl, blonde, petite. The caption read: Buffy Summers, murder suspect. "She is highly dangerous and police ask you to call the following number if she is spotted…"
Faith turned off the television before she could hear the rest of the story. She has seen enough death already; she doesn't need to see any more.
Author's Note: The next few chapters are going to be longer, once the plot starts moving along. And I apologize for the huge gap in between chapters but I had someone editing/revising so it took a bit longer than I had expected. So if you're still reading this, PLEASE REVIEW! I'd like to know that I'm not just writing into thin air!!