Prologue

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*NOTE: IN NO WAY, SHAPE, OR FORM AM I TRYING TO CLAIM YOUR RELIGIOUS BELIEFS ARE WRONG OR THAT YOU ARE MISINFORMED. THIS IS A WORLD THAT I MADE UP MYSELF, AND THEREFORE A WORLD THAT DOESN'T HOLD ANY GOD/GODS. IF THERE ARE ANY COMPLAINTS ABOUT SUCH IN THE COMMENTS, I WILL DELETE THEM.*

*Photo is Clara*

My name is Clarissa Marie Sparx-- Clara for short, really-- and the destruction of Prince Griffin DiVereaux was, in all of its entirety, my fault.

Since my birth-- the dawn of my existence-- I held hatred in my heart and severe pain in my mind. I would never understand peace in any manner, and I could never find happiness in the midst of liars. That's why I was tossed about from foster home to foster home so often. I would call out their lies, ruin a scheme or desperate attempt to keep information from the dearly innocent. Considering it now, I could still list the main lies I contested; Santa Claus, the Easter bunny... God...

God was the main lie I'd attested towards, and also what offended the Pentacostal families most when I'd lived amongst them in the heart of Georgia. I actually remember one family quite well;

The Watsons

The Watson family consisted of solely an obese teenage daughter, who blasted gospel music in her room when her parents were out, shouted at the TV when any "profane" movie trailer-- who's worst asset would've been a women sporting a short hairstyle, and shoved her grand total of three purity rings into people's eyes as she strutted around and claimed; "If God wanted me to be skinny, then I would be!" They weren't able to have any more children, so the parents adopted me in a last attempt to spread their religion.

And in all honesty, I barely lasted a year with them-- all it really took was a simple sentence sprouting from a simple 5-year-old girl, who hadn't been exposed to much of anything other than education before that family.

"Mom, why do we go out and praise a man that doesn't even exist for our own accomplishments?"

And I could still recall every name they screamed at me amongst the searing shocks of the teenager's palm slapping across my cheeks; Demon, fiend, antichrist, the spawn herself, etcetera, etcetera...

That was the most intense reaction I'd had in the midst of religious families I'd stayed with, and my final claim that the mother in one of my families was sleeping with the priest was what had me cast off to a boarding school for three years, where I'd found a true family to take care of me.

Where I found my fellow mutants, all of them desperate for a family that I never got used to having.

One of those mutants had adopted me, and her ability to manipulate liquids kept me calm when I was thrashing about in pain. Shelby Grey has done this at this time and in this spot, Isabella Zanetis said these words at this time in response to this phrase. It was all terrible, leaving emptied bottles of Advil in my wake.

And then came the war...

The war had taken that woman from me, leaving me to witness her demise to a pack of werewolves. Since then I craved that vengeance, and so the story came to be; the story of how I, Clarissa Marie Sparx, ruined everything-- like I'd been doing from the beginning.

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