Merely Existing

Prologue

"It's your birthdays, little ones. Tell daddy anything you want."

"Ni-ni wants Suzy doll! Ni-ni wants Suzy doll, pweeaaazee?"

" And you, Blacky?"

"Nothing...."

"Nothing? There must be something you want!"

"I have everything I want already."

The beginning of this story, is like any other. In a place, at a time, when something happened, that changed someone's life.

It all started in the peaceful village of Giverna. A village set far apart from the capital, but famous nevertheless for its crafty handiworks.

The villagers lived closed off to the outside world, except when trading in the markets. They led a calm and serene life, with their beautiful fields, their clear skies, their crystal like streams. A place left untouched by darkness.

All they had ever wished for, was eternal peace.

In this village, there were no strangers, everyone was part of that one big family. They worked together, making musical boxes, wooden flutes, stringing violas and so on. It was a musical place.

There was one melody in particular, that remained unforgotten, always hummed by young and old alike, for the past 10 years. Some sang it wistfully, some for the pure feel of it.

It was a requiem that haunted their memories. Sad and beautiful.

Requiem for The Jacksons (played to the tune of "Lacie")

Do you know that cottage up the hill?
There was a man who hummed the lightest tune,
A woman who could put princesses to shame,
Love showered them with the flowers of June,
Our village filled with melodies as they came.

Do you know that cottage up the hill?
Burnt to crisps with ashes flying,
Blackened and abandoned lays the land,
Its silence broken only by the wind's crying,
For the two who are buried, hand in hand.

Do you know that cottage up the hill?
No light graced upon it ever again,
So we grieved for that light we lost,
Even the sky shed tears like frosty rain,
When we sang for those we cared most.

Oh, we'll sing it, we'll sing it,

Now and forever,

The requiem for the Jacksons,

The tragedy of two lovers.

******

[10 years ago]

The originally peaceful night in the village of Giverna flared up in chaos, just as the cottage up the hill flared up in flames.

Enduring the unbearable heat, approaching the scorching mass was a little girl of five. Her eyes transfixed on the sight before her. She saw her father, her mother, and her precious twin sister, everyone she loved and everything she had, burning away in front of her. They were beyond her grasp, with a wall of fire standing in between. Their screams pierced through the roaring fire, their eyes of a caged beast, their bodies writhing in pain as flames danced across their skin.

An unending stream of tears poured from her silver eyes, mixing with the sweat and dirt on her face. Yet she was unable to think, unable to accept the truth of what she was seeing.

She met the eyes of her mother through the flaming window. She who was suffering from tremendous pain still forced her mouth open to omit one word.

LIVE.

That night, the little girl lost everything she had. All except her own life.

But she lost sight of herself.

Blacky Jackson.....that girl no longer existed.

She became an orphan with no relatives to go to. Shifting from one orphanage to another, foster homes after foster homes.

Her wavy black hair, silent silver eyes and angelic face were enchanting enough to attract many people. But none would keep her for long.

They feared her. They called her the "Black Cat of Misfortune".

Her intelligence, strength, maturity didn't match her age, it was above an average human even. She wouldn't smile at you, she wouldn't play like a normal kid. She wouldn't cry when you beat her. She wouldn't do anything unless told. Like a puppet moved by strings. But more importantly, she brought trouble wherever she went, strange accidents just seemed happen around her. Fatal accidents that terrified them.

At the age of seven, she was sent to particularly abusive foster care. Nights of torture, but not a scream escaped her mouth. Her mind kept replaying one word.

Live. Live. Live. Live....

She ran away. Not from fear, but to achieve her goal. Live.

She slummed the streets with nowhere to go. Soon she was picked up by a vulgar man and was used for his sinful deeds. She was forced to steal for him, beg cash for him. The man had a collection of such stray kids that did his bidding, but his delight for her grew as she proved to be more affective than any of the others. Her nimble fingers stole better, her beautiful face received more pity.

She was even dragged to illegal race tracks and underground fighting rings. But she survived, she kept on struggling, kept on moving forwards.

That was when he came. He who reached a hand out to her and pulled her into an even darker world. Any innocence, any hope her fragile heart held onto, was crushed into pieces, thrown into a black abyss of no return.

He was the boss of a mafia.

Claus Cavarone, head of the Cavarone famiglia. The most powerful organisation in the underground society. With his cold eyes and elegant smiles, he trained her into a demon. A demon that sought blood. She became an assassin who was known by the name "Black Jack".

A name so notorious that just the mentioning of it would strike fear in the hearts of many.

She was his most prized weapon, a beloved masterpiece. She served him loyally, listened to all his orders but she never lost sight of her true goal. Quite determination and tremendous will, were the only things that kept her sane, kept her from breaking down or falling into despair. For eight years, that place was her only place to return.

Then one day, she planned her escape.

To be purposely caught by the police and presented to the court where she tactfully acted as a vulnerable little girl, a victim trapped by the mafia. Naturally, she was released with no charges, but there was an unexpected factor that intruded her plans.

A lawyer who adopted her for reasons she couldn't fathom.

Kylee Henderson, 27 years old. An eccentric lady with mane of red hair and pale blue eyes.

As of now, she was Blacky Henderson, 15 years old. Living in that person's lavishing apartment. With what seemed like normal and peaceful days ahead of her. An end to the legend of Blacky Jackson.

But 'the end' was only the beginning of this story. She who will be haunted by her past and struggles to overcome it, will only face more obstacles again.

When will she ever reach her goal? To breathe, to stay alive, to survive...is that really 'living'? Or is she merely existing?

****

AUTHOR'S NOTE

To the lovely people who took time to read my very first story:

The prologue was in third person's view but the chapter to come are all different. Also, the setting for this story is completely fictional, down to the countries.

I don't know what you were hoping for when you decided to read this book, but please give it a chance. It won't always be so dark and depressing though, it will take on a lighter tone from now.