Author's Note: WARNING! WARNING! WARNING! This story is very much rated M. It has some themes that are not for the faint of heart, so if you cannot deal with the ideas of death, murder, violence, rape etc. DO NOT READ!

Elizabeth:

"Be good sweetie," her mother said absentmindedly.

"Of course mommy," Elizabeth replied sweetly but inside she was laughing. If her mother only knew what she did while they were out.

Julia took Elizabeth's hand and lead her away to the doors. She was trying to take Elizabeth to school, but Elizabeth had other plans.

"Julia, my tummy hurts," she whined. She got a simpering look in return.

"Do you want to stay home from school today?"

Julia was sweet, docile and plain old dumb. Elizabeth nodded pathetically and asked to go to the bathroom. Instead of turning right at the end of the hall, she turned left- towards the morgue. Elizabeth felt vaguely disgusted at having to play dumb four year old... again. If the adults only knew what she was capable of.

She smelled the stench of a freshly dead body and instead of retching- like most people- she continued eagerly toward it. After her routine check to make sure no one was around she tugged on the heavy door and entered Lab 1.

A man was on the table, he was probably about thirty or so. Elizabeth circled the body, trying to ascertain the manner of death. No gunshot wounds, no bruising on the neck. Perhaps he was beaten, or got poisoned. It might be one of those uninteresting deaths caused by disease, but her gut told her otherwise.

Footsteps echoed in the corridor outside, stirring Elizabeth out of her musings. She tiptoed out the other door and made her way through the labyrinth of hallways back to Julia.

If it were up to Elizabeth, she'd never have to leave the morgue. However, being 4 had some disadvantages.

"Were you okay?" Julia asked sweetly when Elizabeth arrived back in the lobby.

"Yes. Can we go home?"

"Of course sweetie." Elizabeth hated it when Julia used that nickname. That was her mother's pet name for her! In fact, Elizabeth hated almost everything about Julia. She looked forward to the day when she would go to full day school and finally be free of her bothersome nanny.

Miranda:

The books spilled out of her arms for the fifth time that day. She waited until they had all fallen before even bothering to bend. There was no point to trying to catch them. That much- at least- Miranda had learned during her first few weeks at this stupid high school.

Oh great, now she was going to be late. It was uninviteable, but Miranda quickened her pace to a half run anyway.

"Special. Gifted." That's what they'd said when they told her she was going to high school. Miranda sure didn't feel "Special" right now. Didn't adults understand that kids just want to fit in? Didn't they feel that when they were in school?

Amazingly, she made it to science with a couple seconds to spare. She collapsed into her seat, wishing for all the world that she was like the tall fourteen year olds surrounding her. Maybe then they wouldn't hate her as much.

"You're going to be in high school! Isn't that exciting sweetie?"

Miranda had tried her hardest to look happy but all she had felt was a horrible sinking feeling in her stomach.

Miranda listened to the lesson-biology was her favorite- but she couldn't focus. Fear invaded her mind, causing her to blank out. What would they do next? Up until now it had only been dirty looks and shoving. Miranda had watched enough television to know that it would get worse. Much worse.

Her stomach tightened in anticipation. Oh God, she'd give anything to be somewhere else- preferably far away.

"...highest GPA out of all of you and she's only eleven. I find this very disappointing..."

Oh no! The teacher was talking about her. Miranda could feel the angry gazes of her classmates burning holes in her back and her shoulders automatically curled up. Some kind of instinct, to try and present less of a target. Or was it like the hair reflex on animals? Now Miranda was getting her facts mixed up which was never a good sign.

The bell rang and it was like a death toll for Miranda. She hung back in the classroom for as long as she possibly could. Then she stepped into the hall and began to do the equivalent of sprinting... at walking speed.

Nope, too late, they were already on her like flies to rotting fruit. A beefy boy pinned her against the lockers while a gang of girls and guys ringed her.

"Hey shrimp, you better stop showing us all up. You're such a fucking know-it-all!"

Miranda whispered apologies and they seemed satisfied for now. With a final kick of her papers they left.

A sigh of relief escaped Miranda, it almost sounded like a sob. She had gotten off easy today. "There's always tomorrow to look forward to," she thought grimly to herself. Hefting her heavy pile of books, she continued on her way, keeping her dark rage to herself.

Marie:

With the shutters closed her room looked so different. So mysterious. It suited Marie perfectly, it made a good atmosphere for writing. She flipped a switch on her huge stereo set which caused the music to thud through the subwoofers into the floor. In her favorite chair, Marie settled down to write. Red ink - like blood - flowed from her pen onto the page. Her computer beeped continuously, signifying all the messages coming in.

This was when Marie felt most alive, with her music playing, a blank page in from of her and her computer by her side. For once, the words came effortlessly. It didn't even feel like she had to think.

Then came a pounding on her door, her mother demanding something. Reluctantly, Marie turned off the music and listened.

"...and get dressed in something nice because some very important people will be there."

Marie couldn't care less, but the need to obey her mother was deeply ingrained in her. She walked to her closet and pulled out a dress her mother would consider respectable. Marie hated herself for not being able to disobey her mother, or even say her feelings. They were all bottled up inside her, waiting to explode.

Her online friends were her only comfort, her only escape. They understood her because they were like her. She was a damned queen, an empress of bloody fiction. No one but her online friends knew what she wrote about. If anyone else read her stories they'd think she was crazy! They'd lock her up!

Marie put on the dress, hating the feel of the fabric on her body. How could her mother stand to wear these all the time? Her legs felt bare and exposed, the outfit felt indecent- even though some of the things she wore were much worse. She didn't want to go to some dumb-ass dinner where all the old people would fawn over her. She hated it when her parents showcased her. Sure, it felt nice to feel appreciated. But it was all false. None of those adults were real, their very existence was a lie. That was what made Marie hate them so much.

Alex:

Cold air wrapped around Alex's body as she stepped out of the shower. She rubbed condensation off the mirror so she could study her appearance. She looked good, it didn't take a genius to tell you that. She dressed in her skillfully selected clothes- all in dark colors. A black shirt, low but not too low, a skirt, soft grey leggings and a pair of Converses. It didn't take another glance in the mirror for her to know that she looked perfect.

Her ride would be coming soon so Alex left the bathroom. Her fake I.D. was lying on the table, ready for her to use. Who knew that Tatsiana Gabriel, 21 was actually 14 year old prodigy Alex Nevermore? No one, of course!

A car horn honked outside her window. Alex calmly walked downstairs, not caring how long they waited for her because they would wait. If she didn't come with them, they wouldn't get the boys they desired so much. As for Alex herself, she desired them too... but not to get in their pants. Alex loved playing games with them.

"You're so beautiful Doll," he crooned. Alex smiled coyly. She had him hooked and now was the best part- the rejection.

"You really think so?" He smirked in a way that unsettled her. He wasn't supposed to be this cocky... oh shit, he had a knife. The silver blade flashed in the moonlight as it pressed against her neck.

"Son of a bitch," she hissed. This wasn't going as planned.

"Now, don't scream, relax and this will be fun," he chuckled maliciously. Then he started removing his clothes. Alex waited until he bent over to take off his pants, then she pounced. She flicked the knife out of his hand into her own and pinned him facedown on the ground.

"What the fuck?" he hollered.

"Ah, ah, ah," Alex waved the knife menacingly in front of his face. "Just don't scream, relax and this will be fun." Then she pressed the tip into the exposed back of his neck.

Slowly and meticulously she began to carve letters into the soft flesh. He whimpered and sniveled but she didn't stop. When she was done she sat back and surveyed her work. The word 'rapist' looked back at her, spelled out in precise capital letters.

Alex giggled out loud. This felt good, it felt powerful and ALIVE!

"Now, you won't go telling anyone will you?" she drawled.

"N...n...no!" he squeaked. She laughed again and let him slip away into the night.