(My childhood was nothing but scraping to survive in a hostile dimension filled with predatory creatures, strange, alien intelligences, a few cowering scavengers who had no idea how they got there, and the absence of light. The only illumination I received in that dimension of darkness was being able to watch the dimension I'm now in. The people of it think it's the only one. They are so clueless. I have my mother to thank for that. Watching her and my father was like watching a dvd in slow motion. Time moved much faster where I was. That's how Darkstar is able to have a daughter who is...well I think I'm 19 or 20. I'm not really sure. There wasn't exactly a group of scientists around to explain how time worked. My mother's death brought me back...my blood brought her back. She felt I owed her that much since she gave me life. She owes me more than she'll ever realize.

I'm out of that place and in the supposedly real world and yet how much different is it really? The world is hostile. People are predators and prey. The only real difference now is that I'm one of the monsters. When I left that dimension I never really left it behind. Instead of being in it, it's now in me. As soon as I crossed into this realm my insides ached. Strange urges filled me and urged me on. It was like instantly being struck with the afflictions of my parents. My hunger for violence, my desire for pain, my clinging to rage all products of my genetics. I fought so hard against it at first. I entered into fighting just as a way to feed myself enough violence to quiet my urges. Just enough to sustain me. To keep me from going mad. It only served to make me crave more. I remember the agony it bestowed on me when struggling to maintain my control. I remember the horrifying thrill it gave me when I lost that control. Eventually I gave in. I became just like them. I became that which I fought so hard against...and I liked it. Too much in fact.

It became where my matches weren't enough to sate me. My dark hungers only ripping at my insides harder. Soon I was kidnapping, torturing, maiming, and ruining lives outside the ring. Poor Alexis was my main victim. I put her through such hell. Part of me still gleams inside when I think about it. At one point I almost had myself convinced that I tormented her because I was trying to help her. It wasn't true. I did it because I hate her with every fiber of my being. Her suffering became my pleasure. Still her pain wasn't enough. So I branched out to Jesse Williams. I used Alexis as an instrument of torture on him. I still can't help but wish I had been there when he found her hung upside down on a door in his house. Covered in blood. When he realized that not only had I hurt one of those close to him, but that I had so easily entered his home and made it mine. Yet, it still wasn't enough. My insides demanded more.

Even my beloved Angel wasn't safe from me. My love wasn't enough to secure that safety. I loved him so much that I had often decided he had to die. I used to be dumbfounded at the strange obsession my mother had with my father. She loved him, yet most of the time she yearned to destroy him. Only she was allowed to do that in her mind. She'd save him from danger and then try to kill him. Then I found myself feeling those same strange emotions. Poor Angel. I blamed him for things beyond his control. It's been a long time since I've seen him. I stopped watching him from afar awhile ago. We'll see each other again. This I know.

Things have come full circle. I left OWF, and my father's mansion, to find myself. I couldn't have the external stimulus of either around if I was going to pull myself back together. I wasn't always a monster. I just always had the potential and the genetics to be one. The months were long and painful, but I reclaimed the control I desired. My inner demon isn't locked in it's box like it was when I first entered this world, but I've managed to rip it from the surface and place it beneath my skin. It's still there. Still calls to me. Still tells me what part of me wants to here. I am just trying really hard not to listen. I want to be a better person than I have been. A better person than Darkstar and Andrea Raven. Truthfully I'm not sure this goal is even attainable. It may be even more futile than I think, but I have to try anyway. They say you can't fight destiny. Time to find out if that's true.


(5:30pm. Everyone in this nocturnal household has just woken up and managed to find their way to the living room. The television is on and play is pressed on the dvd. An episode of the Young and the Restless begins to play. Ah family time. It almost sounds like a normal family household, but never manages to look it. In a recliner sits my mother, Andrea Raven. Chopsticks hold her crimson hair up as she rests stiffly in her kimono with a glass of tea in her hand. Her hateful, pitch black eyes look over at me with contempt. She's been back to treating me like an outsider. Back to showing me her more bitter side. Back to calling me "whelp". It's been this way again since I started trying to better myself. The insatiable monster I had become is the creature she considered to be her real daughter. What I was before it, and what I am now, is just some thing wearing her daughter's flesh. On the couch to my left is my father, Darkstar. His crazed, piercing, blue eyes stare intently at the screen. His scarred, shirtless body resting eerily still. His face is already painted in it's blue and black, techno looking skull. It's not often he's without the paint. Why does he record and have us watch this soap opera every night when we wake? It's one of his quirkier habits. He feels that soap operas are what people's real lives are like. Every emotion amplified. People even more cutthroat and backstabbing than real life. Everything full of hate, drama, and people looking to ruin someone else to get what they want. That is his view of people, and the world we live in. I would call his perspective warped, but I really have no room to talk.

Me, I'm still in my bathrobe. No paint right now. No makeup. Just my scarred face. I don't get real into the soap opera thing. It's okay and all, but I don't like television. I think it's a waste of time I never had growing up. I don't need it now. The two women laying on the floor in front of the couch, well they're a different story. They live and breathe my father's teachings. The silent one with the serious look on her painted face, that's Fatalia. The black streaks painted down her cheeks from her eyes represent the last tears she ever cried when her only friend was murdered in front of her. She doesn't have fun. Doesn't laugh. All she does is listen to and follow everything my father says as if it's a sacred duty. She was the first of the new apprentices he eventually took on long after Demonica's death. There's a subject we never discuss in this household. No good could come from it. My parents would instantly be back to trying to kill each other. The other apprentice, the one laughing with sick pleasure as she watches a character on the show cry about losing her baby in a fire, that's Mutilatia. She's actually scarier when her face is not painted up like a black and white jack-o-lantern. No I don't mean she's ugly. I mean that her looking human is a twisted mockery in itself. Rather unnerving. She's a fowl, sadistic creature with a mean streak, yet she never seems to take much of anything seriously. She is always having fun. More than anything though she's a twisted masochist. I think she truthfully enjoys her own pain even more than that of others. That cackling laughter of hers is a sound that often frequents the halls of this home.

This is the family I'd always longed for and missed while raising myself in the wilds of the darkness. It's not quite how I pictured it would all be, but it is what it is. I have two parents, and for all intents and purposes, two adopted sisters. What more could a girl ask for? I've been back from my soul searching journey for two weeks now. I'm not sure what the deal is with my parents. I mean are they back together or do they still want to kill each other? Mother moved in back when she first brought me to meet him. Back when she had first risen from the dirt to reclaim her wicked life once more. She's been here ever since except for the occasional mission for the Dark Assassins. Sometimes they almost seem to be close. Almost like a normal couple, but in the next ten minutes they can be seen throwing punches. I'm not really sure how they've managed to live in the same home for over a year now. Part of me would love to have her gone. I get along with my father better, but she's my mother and for some reason I often feel the need to gain her approval. Something I can almost never do. The episode ends and she breaks up my reflection as she stands and looks down at me. Always looking down at me.)

Why'd you have to come home like this? What did you spend your time doing in the wilderness little whelp?

(I've known this was coming ever since I returned home. When I first came in the door she looked into my eyes briefly, pushed me against the door with a grunt, and walked away without a word. I hate arguing with her. It's never really an argument. Eventually my protests annoy her enough to where I know if I speak again she'll kill me. So it's a whole lot of impotant anger mixed with a large amount of fright. I answer quietly, but I make sure my voice is solid. I'm not going to let myself falter. I have to be strong.)

I was training my mind.

(She snorts at my words. Her eyes seeming to darken in reaction. Oh how I hate having those eyes fixated on me. My skin grows cold. Her words come out even more bitter than before.)

You mean ridding yourself of what makes you special. You're wasting yourself whelp! You're pathetic again. My real daughter left here and you came back in her place.

(I try to ignore the pain her harsh words bring me, but it's too difficult. I move to respond even as my heart aches from her verbal assault, but I don't get a chance as my father suddenly stands up and glares at Andrea. The intensity of his eyes catching both of us off guard. His raspy voice is almost a growl.)

That's enough Andrea...Leave her be...

(Empty tea cup in hand she sighs in anger as she looks between us.)


(With that she exits the room. My father looks at the apprentices and they immediately leave the room. After a long moment of silence I feel a firm hand on my shoulder.)

I can't say I agree with what you are doing either. I think you are only going to bring yourself pain by fighting against your nature, but that is your decision. This path you are choosing may just tear you apart. Don't listen to Andrea though. Do what you must Eclipse. Just remember what I said.


(Sure I'm looking to become a better person, but I know I can't try to suppress my darker nature. My urges are too great for that. They would eat me from the inside. So I'm going to feed them. I'm going to give them enough to maintain control of myself. I'm going to leave the demon within just below the surface. As long as I keep it fed enough I'll be able to keep it from rattling its chains. I realize this is a double edged sword. The more I get the more I'll want. This is why I went through great pains to get what I needed in my contract. I have to be separated from people except when I'm in the ring. Along with that I can't allow it to take over even for brief moments. I must avoid frenzy at all costs. My father wasn't wrong when he pointed out how hard this will be. Let's hope he's wrong on what the result could be.

I look out the window of the private jet I opted to take to Determined only to find darkness. Story of my existence. At the last second it looks like I may end up wrestling there afterall. Things have changed since I was in OWF before. Musicians invaded. Jesse Williams somehow managed to be world champ. There was recently an MVW show. Something my father would be rather displeased to learn he missed out on. Oh, and the person he hates the most in this world, Specter, is here. I think he hates Specter even more than I hate Alexis. Though who can measure such things? In the end none of it really matters. OWF will get what it wants because I will get what I so need....violence. I don't have to worry about who I hurt. No one here is innocent. I'm free to do what I must. Just thinking about it I can feel the darkness rushing to the surface. I force it back down by biting my lip till it bleeds while gripping the arm rests with all my strength. My breathing, instantly heavier. Such a short time till I fill the void within. Such a short time till I wear their blood.)