Darkness. It's my life, my soul, my happiness. For I am not your average person. I am an assassin. It all started when I was a mere child...

"Grandfather?"

"Yes, Sakia."
"Why do we come out here, every day? Why Grandfather?"

"Dear, child..." My grandfather and I were out in the flower garden. We would come out her a a lot more. I didn't understand at the time, but it was tradition. I was only four years of age, my grandfather many, many more. He was very weak physically, but strong mentally. He had seen things unimaginable, more gruesome than ever, but oh, he lived in a time of war. He was now an instructor of Philosophy. I was very confused by this subject, but I was only four. Anyway, my mother soon came out.

"Sakia! What the hell did I tell you! Stay in here with me!" she said, very angrily. Face it, my mother wasn't anything, except a piece of crap. She was getting very drunk lately, probably because of her stress. I would take it, every bit of her yelling, screaming, wailing, and sickness. I would go inside of the house, clean up the mess she made. I could never invite my friends over, because my house was so dingy. It was embarrassing. I would sweep the floors hastily while my grandfather talked to Mother. He never yelled at her, although she deserved it. He would tell her the same thing over and over, about taking good care of your children. He said I was a blessing. But oh man that blessing would hit concrete in a few years. The same woman who brought me into this world would try to bring me out of it.

"Oh, Little Sakia, why don't you defend yourself!" Mother said, her face angry with hate and disgust. But she didn't know what I had behind my back. She wiped her bloody face off, showing the scratch mark I had made with my nails. I, now 15, had my own sores, a few stab marks, some cuts. How could my own mother do this? I thought, bitterly. I pulled my "surprise" out of behind me. It was a pistol. My mother looked at me, surprised, then with a scowl. "So, you are going to kill me, are you?" she asked, mockingly. I held the gun out in front of me. Mother laughed. "You're too weak, Sakia. Too weak and frail Little S-" she fell to the ground. I couldn't believe what I had just done. Mother was dead. I stepped on her chest and said,

"Never call me Little Sakia again." I walked off. My father was dead so I didn't have to worry about him. But my grandfather, he was right upstairs. I swallowed hard. What if he found out? I couldn't just kill him. And just like that he walked down the stairs.

"Sakia! What on earth are you- oh my word. Sakia! What did you do to her? Why did you kill-" I pulled the trigger. It was a reflex. I had to do it. He would tell. I sat down and cried, blood from my hands running down my face. I had to leave. No one would ever find out. I had to run away.

"Mother Dies, Grandfather Dies, Girl Cries Then Runs" was the title of the newspaper. I was living in the countryside, in a cave. I was a little cleaner now, with my long black hair always in a braid and my black outfit always neat. I would come to the city every night right at nightfall, and take a newspaper to read every once in a while. Otherwise I would find something to eat. I was really skinny now, because I was more athletic and I didn't eat as much. The days of the killings haunted me for a while, images of my mother's angry face, my grandfather's shocked face. I had so many nightmares. When I was 20 years old, I felt I was getting close to being caught, so I ran off. I had fled to Tokyo.

Note: This is the first chapter! YAY! And if you were wondering about the Tokyo part, she lives in Japan :)