Preface

Cold. That was the only conscious thought in her mind. Like ice water was flowing through her veins. Something grabbed her around the throat, yanking her backwards until her head smacked against cold stone and sticky red ice water seeped from her skull.

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               “You’re scared of me?” It wasn't a question, Sitri could feel the depth of the cattles terror.

     “Of course I'm scared of you!” He answered anyways. “You're a psycho, do you know how many innocent people you’ve killed?”

    “None.”

    “Don't you feel any remorse?” Now that was a question.

    “Why should I? They can't feel anything. They're not part of my family,  I can use them as I please.”

    “You crazy bit-” Before he could finish the insult Sitri plunged her knife into his stomach, sufficiently silencing him. She tsked at the blood that splattered on her dress.

    “Naila!” She shouted for her friend. The other quickly came into the room, a horrified look on her face when she saw what had happened.

    “Sitri! That dress is brand new and you already got blood on it, I shouldn't let you wear anything other than red.” Her second in command sighed, knowing the scolding would get her nowhere. “What happened here? Another reporter?”

     “They think we’re murders.” She whispered.

     “Sitri...”

    “I'm trying to teach them!” The other seethed, the grip on her knife tightening. “How could they think that? How could they think I don't love them all?” Naila stepped foreword, taking the knife from her friends hand.

     Sitri crumpled to her knees, her scarred cheeks damp with tears. “I just want to protect you all, I just want to teach you.”

Author's Note

first draft