Off in the distance of the run down apartments, a flash of lightning streaks across the sky, silhouetting the form of a young girl. She appeared to be somewhere around 19 years of age, with her auburn locks running over her form and pooling at the middle of her waist. Not phased by the lightning because she had no fear of it, she lifts her head to the sky and lets the lids of her eyes droop to a close. The people walking by at the time just stopped, and seemed to be entranced by the woman standing in the now pouring rain. Her eyes, the rich dancing colors that never stayed on solid hue for long held nothing, were nothing except one thing, dead. No light shone in them as dirt was smudged against her left cheek.

It was with that that the rain poured harder and her body began to move forward. Her heels tapped her arrival on the wet ground as her head slowly lowered. Dirt clung to her body and fell from it, while from her slender hand blood dripped to the ground. She slowed to a pause in front of the building and turned her head to the side, facing the couple who watched on in fear. A smirk spread across her face while speaking, her voice gruff and husky from how long it was unused, "Boo" The ice delved into the bodies of the young duo and seemed to freeze the very marrow of their bones. All she could do was mark them weak as she made her way to the door. Images flashed past her mind about the happy times spent with one other. The sound of his rich tenor voice filled her mind and the remembrance of his hands running over her form brought a crimson liquid to her eyes. She missed her love, the one who was planning on spending the rest of his life with her, and possibly starting a family. Lowering her head with a heavy sigh, all she could do was reach for the lever of the door to give it a try. Her hope died away when she jiggled the handle and found it to be locked. The apartment seemed to be boarded up and closed to the public. Yet she didn't care.

Her form crouched low on the ground before she jumped up and with a twist of her body, had her leg swinging outwards. The sound of splintering wood brought a amused smile to her lips, giving her dead countance an angelic like appeal. Splaying the slender digits of her alabaster hand on the door and giving it a small push, she was relieved to see it swing so easily open. The sound of her heels tapping the ground in a broken record like fashion would send chills up ones spine, and as she moved something came in behind her. A streak of a shadow, shaped like that of a rather large bird, dove into the confines of the battered place. Turning her head to watch her guide land on her shoulder, she couldn't help but to smile. The crow was a magnificent creature and clever at that.

When she reached the landing of the stairs, her guide cawed in her ear, yet caused her no pain. Flicking her tongue over her lips and looking up, she started to climb the unsteady staircase. It didn't take her long to reach her destination, and she soon found herself before a black door with a dusty 72 on it. She knew it would be worthless to try the handle like she did downstairs, so instead she just repeated the process that she had done before. Once again, the door swung open and she was able to walk into what was once her haven.

It was then that the memories came to her, nearly overloading her already worn mind.

She had just finished preparing her dinner of spicy chicken pasta and was setting it out on the table when he finally emerged from the room. Both had a broad smile on their faces, and soon everything fell into its usual routine. They both made their plates and sat across from one another, but instead of talking of what they had done that day, they were talking about what was needed for a nursery. Their happiness, though unbeknownst to them, was cut short when the door was kicked in and the room was flooded with several men.

After that, everything had played across so quickly that she didn't know what to do. The men grabbed her lover and held him against his will. On the other hand, they drug her to a room and began to have their way with her. She could hear the horrible fight going on in the dinning room, with things breaking, screams filling the air, and the gut wrenching sound of flesh beating flesh. She'd already been crying by then, but her cries turned into screams when she saw what was to happen to her. The men first cut her clothing away, and only then did they tie bonds around her ankles and wrists. They spread her legs and tied them to the bedposts, only to do the same with her ankles. That was when the real torture began. They used her in what ever way they could find, using all of her orifices to their liking. She couldn't scream anymore, but she didn't know that they had brung her love, her Andre, into the room. Screaming when she saw him and not able to do anything but cry, she sobbed and looked away. Ashamed of what was happening to her, the man laughed and then pulled a blade. It was then that they left their lasting mark on her body, slicing into her womanhood, along her stomach and sides. It felt like and enternity until she watched them pull out the gun, squeezed the trigger and was welcomed into the darkness.

A chill settled in her bones at the memories that haunted her even after death and moving as if her feet were scorched, she made her way to the bathroom that was just to her left. Tears were threatening to escape the confines of her half lidded eyes, and yet she would not let them fall. She was to proud of a woman to show emotion at the present. Though the building had been boarded up and seemingly abandoned, she was surprised to see that the water was still on. The thrumming drip of the shower head told her that much before she turned the hot water nob as far as it would go. Soon she had stripped down to nothing and entered the sheildless shower. The water that fell from it was rapid and harsh, leaving small tainted spots of red on her flesh. The water cut a jagged course through her dirt ridden hair before it was finally able to run through it with ease. Water clung to her naked form while she cleaned herself, and has she remembered yet again, began to scrub her body with so much vigor that her flesh was becoming raw. Only after she was sure that she was clean did she step forth and look at her body. She felt nothing, not the scorches on her flesh nor the warmth that the water should have given her. It was then that she really realized that she was indeed dead.

A chilled voice echoed in her mind while she fought bravely against the drowning darkness. It was calling to her to rise, to get her revenge for the death of her unborn child, her lover and herself. Struggling with her might, she finally opened her lightless eyes and let out a other-wordly screech. The space around her was so small, and it was then that fear settled in her bones. The voice was calling again, calming her as she realized that she was breathing in the stale air just fine. It was telling her to break out and finally face the light of day again. Without any hesitation, she beat her fist against the crimson silk prison she woke in. It wasn't long before the silk hung in tatters around her and her fists were bloodied from the effort of it. Running her nails against the smooth velvet underneath the silk, she felt her nails ripping off of her and yet she felt no pain. It only took a couple of hours before her hand finally punched up into the earth above and she was free. She'd dug her way out and finally pulled herself from her casket in the run down cemetery. This time, she screamed with everything she was, throwing her emotions into it. The sound was chilling, that of rage and a agony so deep which seemed to make up what of her soul was left.

The flash back caught her so quickly that when she came to, she hadn't realized that she was already in her room and dressed. The black leather hugged her hourglass figure while guns were at each of her hips. She could feel the weight of many weapons on her persons, but that wasn't what she was concerned about. Moving to the mirror, she took out a ink bottle and began the process of painting her face. An hour later, a shadowed figure left the building with a painting of a crow hiding what their eyes and half of their face looked like. After all, she was on a mission. It was payback time.