(Am I truly empty? Am I incapable of all but the most base emotions? I see other people and their broad spectrum of emotions. Their attachments to each other. I see them rely on each other for strength. Sure, they often tear each other apart soon after, but the fact is they still do it. Am I even capable of feeling what they do? I wonder if I'm replacing these emotions with my anger. With the violence. The curse I've inherited seems to run far deeper than I realized. There's something wrong with me...and I'm not sure there's a way to correct it. I'm trying though. I really am. I yearn for a balance to my madness.

My thoughts drift to Alexis...ensuring there will be no balance. Everything immediately shifts within. My obsessive hatred of her brings out my worst aspects. Makes me desire to revel in them. When it comes to her I not only accept the monster within, I embrace it willingly. Happily even. Her pain brings me pleasure. Her tears quench my thirst. Her blood bathes me. Cleanses me. It's both beautiful and deplorable. I sometimes wonder if my desire to destroy her will ever cease. A large part of me hopes it never does. Very soon she'll have to stand and face me again. She knows what's coming. We both do. Still, I'm bothered by something. Why is she so interested in Moxie? Her mind should only be on self preservation. Moxie's answers when questioned about it had no substance. No real clue as to what Alexis wants. The little pop singer seems to have a difficult time formulating any thought that requires depth without it being pre-scripted. Yet, somehow, she's able enact semi-intricate schemes in her effort to control Vacant. After my encounter with her and Specter I can't fully determine if they are working together, or if each of them have their own agenda with Vacant's mind. I intend to find out. I can't help but be curious.

I look down at the cup of coffee in front of me. I can't say I particularly care for the beverage. I much prefer tea, but I'm trying to blend in at the moment. Today I'm trying something new. Something I'd never even considered before. So I got dressed in a pair of blue jeans and a form-fitting, white t-shirt. I put my long brown hair up into a neat ponytail and spent an hour trying to figure out how to apply makeup the way a normal girl would. I eventually succeeded after much effort. I look as normal as I possibly can. Then I came down to this coffee house in Anchorage. They have books here and sometimes have an open mic, music night. Why am I subjecting myself to this? I want to see if I can feel what others do. I want to see what it is to be out among people, participating in whatever it is they do. I thought maybe if I was among them I'd have a better understanding of the range of emotions everyone else seems to have. I understand the concepts of these feelings I see them have, but I haven't experienced most of them. Even the ones I think I have had I can't be sure I actually did. Does everyone feel an attachment to their fellow man that I don't?

So far I've been here for an hour. I've been coming up empty. Sure, there's people all over in here, but none of them have even come near me. I realize I have a few things working against me in this endeavor. The most obvious is that the entire left side of my pale face is a series of scars. I realize that doesn't make me seem the most inviting. I've seen people stare at me. They can't seem to help themselves, but I don't like it. It makes me uncomfortable. I don't think that's the main reason this isn't working for me. I think somewhere deep down they can feel I'm not like them. They sense there is something wrong with me. They know I don't belong here among them. Can they see right through me? Is there no way for me to experience actual human connection? Is it so much for me to ask to feel what they do? Maybe it is. How depressing.

Their staring is starting to get to me. I see the mixture of curiousity, repulsion, and fear. I can practically smell it on them. Time to end this hellish experiment. I choose not to endure it any longer. Grabbing my jacket, I pull it on quickly and stand up. The coffee is tossed in the garbage as I walk out into the sunny night. I both love and hate summer in Alaska. It doesn't get dark till around midnight in the south central area of the state. Even then, it gets light again around 4am. I like the daylight, but I can't enjoy it. I want to enjoy it, but it unnerves me. Growing up without it I find myself more comfortable in the dark. It's an uneasy comfort. One that often brings me pain. Apparently I don't fit in in the light or the dark. Or anywhere else for that matter. I put on my sunglasses so that my eyes can stop stinging. I should have waited till 10pm to come out. Less dreaded sun.

There's nothing more to do here. I don't want to leave myself exposed to humanity anymore tonight. I head back to my father's dilapidated mansion and quickly scurry to my room. I don't want to talk to anyone. Especially my mother. I take off my farce of an identity before sitting on my futon with my head buried in my knees. I don't think I should do that again. It's too painful. I don't belong in their world. Hell, I don't belong in mine either. In the end, I don't think there is anywhere I do.


Don't act like it's my fault. She's the one throwing away everything. Your daughter has chosen to be weak. To be pathetic!

(Andrea Raven, professional killer, pscyhopath, mother of the year. She'd known this conversation with Darkstar was coming. He just has to meddle. She runs her hands back through her crimson hair in frustration while her pitch black eyes glare at the father of her child with heated bitterness. His raspy voice invades her ears.)

OUR daughter is lost. She doesn't need your contempt. She doesn't even need your guidance. She needs time to discover the truth on her own. She'll realize her struggle is futile eventually. She's a monster just like we are.

(Darkstar, former wrestler, murderer, mentor of lost souls. It annoys him to have to talk this much. He much prefers silent action to speech. His piercing, blue eyes stare back at Andrea with their normal, hard-edged intensity. The only thing he's looking for is to get the woman to lay off their daughter. He'd hoped to avoid this conversation, but her disposition towards their wayward child grows worse each day. Andrea is quick to fire back. Her steely tone grating against him.)

MY daughter was only here for a brief time! She was the fierce one that was content with who and what she was. That whiny sack of flesh you're referring to isn't mine. It may look like her. It may almost sound like her, but it's not my child. You've no right to tell me how to act or feel.

(With each word uttered she can feel the temptation to lash out at him. Unlike DS and Eclipse she doesn't suppress her inner demons. She leaves her rage, bitterness, and hatred just below the surface of her skin. She cultivates it. Let's it flow. She walks the razor-thin edge between control and frenzy during her every waking moment. It's always there to accept her commands. To give her strength. To take control. She enjoys what she is. Still for the moment she'll maintain composure. It's obvious she's starting to get under his skin. She'd rather see where this goes for the moment. Growling at her his response is filled with menace.)

You're going too far...

(Within him his demon rattles its chains. The cage that holds it has already began weakening. He doesn't fight what he is either. He just keeps his darker nature trapped within until it has a reason to be let out. Until its given a taste of anger or pain. Then he lets it out to feed. To destroy. It feeds often. There's always anger inside. Always pain. He thrives on both. Uses them to fuel him. There's nothing like the feel of when his rage fills his veins. It's as if his blood turns black and burns. He can already feel it trying to surge from his chest to his arms. She laughs at him in a cold, twisted manner. He grunts as she pushes his buttons further.)

Too far? Not far enough lover. This is your fault. I blame YOU! I want my daughter back.

(Stepping up, she closes the gap between them to mere inches. An empty smile crosses her features. Invading his space only antagonizes him further. She can see the demented swirl that fills his eyes. Feel the aura of menace that envelops him and begins to swallow the room. His fists clench causing muscles in his arms to visibly tighten.)

My fault? My fault?! I'm....

(Whatever sentence he was forming explodes into an unintelligable roar. Words are an impossibility for him now. This is what she wanted. Now there won't be any arguing. Besides, to her, this is his true self. This is the creature she still loves and hates. The one she wants to be the lover of again. The one she'll destroy with her own hands in the future. No sense in wasting these precious moments with him. This is quality time. Her knee thrusts upwards into his gut, separating them by a few more inches. It's enough to allow her to kick the side of his knee and knock him off balance. He swings at her, but she merely ducks before connecting with a couple of blows to his face. She goes for his throat with her next punch but is backhanded so hard it spins her around. Blood immediately runs from her smiling lips. She feels his steely hands grip her shoulders and spin her back around before seeing his head thrust forward and slam against hers. The room distorts. Suddenly her surroundings, and her body, feel very distant. His growling feels so very far away even though she can feel his hot breath on her. He goes to headbutt her again, but instead of dodging she does the same. The full force of both of their might collides with the sick thud of bone on bone. It echoes in both of their ears. Another thud echoes as they continue. And another. And another.

They both release the grip they had on the other and step backwards. Darkstar's head shakes violently back and forth as if he's trying to clear the cobwebs manually. She can barely see him as her vision has glazed over. She has to close her eyes a moment as the room begins spinning. Dropping to one knee she can feel a lot of her strength leave her. Her body feels heavy. Movement awkward and slow. World distorted. Then suddenly she is flying. The air pushing against the back of her head. For a moment she feels such freedom. Such lightness. It all grinds to a sudden, painful hault as her back hits a wall. Her eyes shoot open to see him holding her off the ground by her throat. His breathing is heavy. Blood runs down from his scarred, painted face. Those beautiful, angry eyes of his register that he's regained some form of composure. Or, at least, an unreasonable fascimile of composure. His demonic sounding voice is all she can hear.)

Ease up on her...Get your head together..or get out...