The Devil From Above

~1~

I have a new least favorite color. I now officially hated the color grey. I mean, after staring at the same wall for over four years, I think I have the right to hate the color. It's all I ever see, considering I'm locked up in solitary. That's right. The Council decided to lock me, Alissa Pang, the 17 (soon to be 18) year old girl , in solitary. Why, you ask? The answer is simple. I'm dangerous. At the age of 13, almost 14, I killed 5 people. And to be honest, I don't regret it. How could I? Those people had it coming. Sure, maybe the way I killed them was a little brutal, if not horrifying, but they had it coming for them. Those five people had all been whispering and spreading rumors about me. Saying I was insane. Saying that the Council should lock me up. Saying that I was the devil. Oh well, too bad they were right.

The darkness inside had taken over at the moment, and back then I was trying to control it. Obviously, I had failed. But I figured out a way for me to stop going insane over it. All I had to do, was let it, control me. That night was the night that I officially gave into the darkness, after my first kill. The next four that night were just helping me let go of all feelings. When the bodies were gone, so were my feelings. They made me go numb. Since that night, I had killed four more, all of them guards. That's why they made adjustments to my security. Instead of a guard coming in and handing me my food, instead they slide it under the door. That's why I haven't talked to anyone in over three years. Fun. Oh well. I still don't regret anything that I did. Does that make me a monster? Oh yeah. Does that make me insane? Probably. Does that make me weak? Definitely not. And that's all that matters. Now you may be thinking, what made her that way? Don't worry, I can provide all the answers.

Flashback

My mother glared at me harshly. "Why are you crying little girl? Stop being a disgrace, and look me in the eye when I am talking to you." I tried my hardest to stop crying but it didn't seem to be working. That was my mother's favorite word it seems. "Disgrace" . Or at least I think that was her favorite word, since she never seems to stop calling me one. My 13year old self didn't seem to know when to back down, and glared at her harshly. My blue eyes filled with rage, and her brown ones glassy from the substance of alcohol. The only things we had in common physical wise seems to be my gender.

Otherwise, I was the splitting image of my father, or at least that's what people told me. My father died when I was just 9 years old, floated for punching a guard that had grabbed my wrist extra hard, while trying to get me to hand over my rations. The guard got off with no punishment while my father was killed for "assaulting a guard". Since then my mother has been falling into a deep hole of sorrow, drowning herself in alcohol.

That night ended with me and my mother fighting, like always. The next day I woke up to a knock on the door that led to out room in the Mecha station. I opened it to see a guard standing there. Immediately I stiffened, my hate for them filling my mind. I hated all guards with a passion. He spoke, and when he did, my blood ran cold. " Alissa Pang, I am sorry to inform that late last night your mother was floated for the crime of stealing alcoholic substances. I am sorry that you did not get to say goodbye. Your mother's things will be taken to the Redistribution Center this afternoon, I am sorry for your loss." He said it with a stone cold face, no emotion showing. As he walked away I stumbled back inside the room after shoving the door shut, crying. Even if we did not have the best relationship, she was still my mother and I was going to miss her for the rest of my life. It was a crushing defeat, that left me feeling like I was holding up the world. No one cared anymore. But I guess that was true the day my father died. I spent the rest of the days on the floor, not crying, but sitting there, drowning in the horrible realization that my mother was dead, and the irony of the situation being that she died the same way my father did. Later that night I roamed the halls, just looking for something or anything to distract me. As I walked by a group of two boys and a girl, I heard them talking.