Many years ago when I was around five, maybe, my mother held me one last time. I'd gone with that man, he claimed to keep me safe. Many years ago I was forced to live on scraps and fight for my life. To say the least, I wasn't anywhere close to fragile and I taught a form of Justice that many would call vigilantism and many would call murder. I call it artistic differences.

The Child grew into an adult and said child grew into a life that wasn't meant for her.