Anastasia's p.o.v:

The first year raising Selina was the hardest year of my life. For an entire year, right before she would head off to bed, Selina would ask, "When is Mommy coming to get me?"

And every night I would answer with "I'm sure she'll be home soon Kitten."

One night, however, the question changed. I remember as clear as day. It was around 7:30 at night, and for once I could see the stars outside of the window starting to appear. She climbed  up onto my bed, resting her head full of blonde curls onto my lap. "Do you think Mommy is ever coming back?"

I remember looking down at the poor girl and saying, "I'm not sure kitten."

That was about nine years ago. Often Bridgette would come over and sometimes would even stay the night. Her older 'brothers' were not pleased at first.

"Who the hell do you think you are, turning our sister against us?" They demanded.

"I didn't do anything. You boys do that well enough on your own." I will never know where their parents have gone off to. Someone had to  take care of Bridgette.

I will admit that they threw the first punch. My head whipped to the side before I threw a punch back. The second brother held me while the first one punched me in the stomach and chest.

I bucked my hips forward, both my legs hitting him straight in the chest; then swung my legs backwards, hitting the second one where it counts. I stepped forward and kicked the guy on the ground in the stomach twice before whipping around and punching the guy in the chin, knocking him out.

I may have looked pretty weak and noodly, (a/n: Is that a word? Also I don't remember Bridgette's brothers names.) but I do know how to win a fight. I mean, I had to seeing as my Aunt was a thief.

I never met my mom. If Mom was anything like my Dad, then it's better this way. My Dad used to beat me. He never raped me or anything, but I was always covered in bruises.

One day, I snapped. He had broken a beer bottle over my head that night. I, in turn, grabbed a knife and slit his throat. When I realized what I had done, I was absolutely terrified. I cleaned up the blood off the blade and the floor before I dragged him to some random ally. I had been able to make it look like he was mugged.

It had haunted me for years. Whatever had been my motive, it scared me. I had never felt that much anger, that much adrenaline.

I made a promise to myself that day to never kill again. But will I be able to keep that promise?