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Fᴇʙʀᴜᴀʀʏ 4, 2019.

Young Alessia Sterling has existed for 12 years now. Never once has she lived and she's not expecting anything big to come her way today, just because it is her birthday.

The day she came to be.. is it all for nothing? Or, is this really her something? Her purpose? To be the little secret messenger of her drug addicted mother, who is always abused half way through each service?

It's now daytime. Her room is in darkness, and through every crease it can find, sunlight forces it's way in, streaking everywhere. On her back, she lies, sprawled out and imitating the white painted figure of a murder scene. Announcing the awakening of her body, her breathing becomes uneven and her chest rises and falls a little heavier.

People say, everyone looks the most peaceful as they sleep, but Alessia sleeps like a rock; unmoving, still, throughout the whole night, until she wakes up the next day.

She looks dead, until her eyes snap open, with an intense stare aimed at the dim white ceiling. Her first thought of the day is, 'well, fish sticks. Didn't die in my sleep? Maybe next time.'

With a grunt, she lifts herself upright, sitting with her palms pressed into the warm sheet behind her and feet stretched out before her. Her muscles cry out at every shift her body makes, reminding her of some of the crazy shit her mother has had her participate in. Slowly, Alessia slips off the bed, feeling her joints crack; her head spins a little when she stands.

Numb, she feels so numb to everything. Even as she stumbles towards the bathroom and turns up the heat of the shower to scalding, she barely feels the water itself, burning her flesh. She was immune to pain; mental, emotional... All that torture, all that laughter at her reactions will forever taunt her in the back of her mind. It's a struggle to even keep them there, so how will she ever forget. However, she has to be composed. She can't lose to them anymore. They like to see her "break," but they must be stupid or blinded by their sadist behaviour, to think, that they can break something that's been broken for years now.

Or, can they? No matter, they all are still a painful reminder of the shit she has to keep up with.

They? They who?

The Gonzales Gang of Hispanic fools.

"Alessia! Get the fuck downstairs. The guys are here!"

That is her cue. Mechanically, she responds, getting dressed and heading downstairs. The guys litter the living room chatting animatedly, and in the midst of them all, he stands, stretching his broad shoulders and moaning in delight. He is the worst of them all.

Sebastian.