Ch.1

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Maria often wondered why she was different than the other teenagers. Was it because of her pale complexion? Her delicate health?

Every day when she went to school, she was targeted. Whispers lingered in her ears. Taunts and insults made new cracks in her confidence. And if that wasn't enough, the people behind the words would often result to physical violence. She was often pushed around, shoved to the ground, or tripped on a daily basis. Once a popular girl slapped her hard, leaving a painful red mark on her white cheek.

But the worst part was that she couldn't fight back. Her delicate health wouldn't allow it. And the repercussions that followed. She was always blamed, always at fault.

And she had no escape.

Home wasn't better, in fact it was worse. To be hurt by your own family... Her father always beat her mother everyday. And if she intervened, she would also be beaten until she had more bruises then skin. Her mother and her couldn't leave though, they had no where else to go, and living on Gotham's streets was not something her mother wanted her to experience. Plus Maria could see her mother still loved the man she called husband. Yet Maria found no love in her heart for him.

But she vowed that as soon as she became eighteen and graduated, things would change. She would move out and do something great.

But for now life would presume as it is...

Her mother and her both sat with their backs straight at the table, Waiting for her father to come home so they could have dinner. And she inwardly flinched as the front door opened and slammed. Their heads lowered as her father came in with a thudding of his big boots. He sat and started to eat, then her mother and her did too. Obedience was a main rule.

It was after that when they retired to the living room when it happened. Her mother was patching up an old shirt of hers, her father read the newspaper, while she did her homework. That was when a knock sounded on the door. Her father grumbled, as he stood. Annoyance in his features. But once he opened the door, his face went white.

"Who are you?" He whispered, fear filling his voice.

"Are you afraid of little old me?" A man's voice taunted from outside.

Then the person of the voice entered. It belonged to a face hidden by a burlap mask that resembled a scarecrow. Who wore a simple black suit, and when he lifted one arm, a fast streak of gas shot at her father's face.

Her father screamed as he batted at his arms, while her mother and her watched with wide eyes. They watched as her father regained control for just a second and lunged at the man. Who step sided him easily and slid a knife in his stomach. Her father fell to the floor with a thud, as he pulled the knife free. Blood running down the blade and falling to the floor like red rain.

"Maria!" Her mother's voice suddenly yelled, as she also lunged at the man. "Run!"

So she did, running through the kitchen, but stopping at the kitchen door. Maria turned around, wanting to scream her mothers name, but held her tongue. She so desperately wanted to go back as she heard a haunting laugh and her mother scream. That chilled her to the bone. And somehow she knew she was alone now, so she turned and ran from her shabby house.

Maria only looked back once as she ran across the street, diving into an alleyway to catch her breath. So she thought she was imaging things when she saw a giant bat fly and land on the roof of her house.

Then with tears streaming down her pale face, and with her mind grasping at reality, she turned and ran, and ran.

And never looked back.

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