The night air fills my lungs, and the moon beams its luminous, white rays at me. My dim gray skin and grapefruit hair blend with the other dark colors of the night. The stars twinkle, forcibly stuffing eagerness and hope into my gut so it overloads, and it causes my body to shake with delight. My smile is ever growing like the chill arousing goosebumps on my covered arms.

I calmly stroll down the stone paths, and silence echoes through my soul. My fingers rub my shaven chin, reminding me of a note Ten left me like an idiot. After I shaved my stubble, cut my mustache shorter, and finished up with our typical grooming, I found a letter he left the next time I took over.

The paper stated, "Asshole! What did you do? You shaved the stubble from my chin! I wanted to grow it out and try a beard! Bastard! Zero-One, we're growing it out."

I don't wish to grow it out. Fuzz on my face feels odd. On the other hand, Ten will continue to harangue me about this little matter. But Ten can't do much about this, and I can simply rip apart these notes. But he may take this too far like he has in the past. Last time I didn't listen, we were in the forest, and he got to our food supply, dumping it all into a hole in the ground and burying it. Digging it up was a hassle, but I didn't wish to hunt for more. That's a larger hassle.

I suppose I should allow it to grow out. He'll realize it's a mistake soon after. Besides, that's the least important happening currently. I've only got twenty-one minutes to claim the pleasurable sense of freedom I'm after.

A taste of freedom will be grand. So, my pace quickens, and I reach the edge of town. The buildings stop where an old stone wall emerges from the paths. Behind, a thick forest sits, and I can hear the chirps of crickets and hoots of owls from here. The oak trees are deep green, and the midnight sky causes the trucks to have a sort of blue luminescence.

Part of the wall is smashed open, so it must be a hot spot for thinkers of the night. Those poor souls who need somewhere to go when home life is stressful or they've dealt with a poisonous romance. Or those who wish to rebel against caring parents. Worst of all, they could be those bastards who push around others and complain about their own pathetic lives that spark bloodlust in those they shove to the dirt.

If I see tears, it's someone like me. If I spot alcohol or another human of the opposite sex, it's my freedom. A taste of freedom will be grand.

With my innocent grin, I walk through the broken wall, peering from side to side. It's too dark to make out much. I better listen. My ears hone into their surroundings, and a cluttered mess drags from eardrum to eardrum before leaving my agonized skull. Too much sound floats around.

Bugs humming, leaves rustling, a howl of the wind; it's all in the way of the sound of humans... unless one isn't here. I hope one is.

I take a few steps out, glancing in both directions. Yes, it's too dark. I can only make out objects I know, and it's merely a rough border then. It's time to listen closer.

I draw in a few breaths of air, closing my eyes while every sense feels like the color black. Everything seems still, and my heart throbs in my chest. With a gulp of my spit, I focus on my surroundings, and I pick up a sound. It's drinking. Alcohol, perhaps? Hopefully, so I can have the taste of freedom I seek.

My eyelashes flutter while I squint in the darkness. The sips came from the left, so I start walking in that direction, the leaves and twigs beneath my feet crunching like the spines of mice.

Finally, I see a silhouette sitting on a fungi-covered stump, a bottle of obvious booze in its slender hands. The size tells me this must be an older teenager; it's someone anywhere between sixteen and eighteen.

I smile with the thought of freedom's taste, but it warps into a frown when I hear sobbing. This figure; she's crying over her drink. My heart drops, and my eyes grow watery. But I suck it up, tiptoeing closer until I'm directly behind her: this youthful female whose orbs make pure tears.

Her hair is blonde, so it's very noticeable in the moon's beams that flow through the leaves of the trees. I'm at the back, and she's not very curvaceous from my view. She seems a little heavy though flat and board-like in shape.

An image flashes through my mind of myself looking into a mirror with sorrow-filled eyes, holding a flabby chunk of myself from the side. A tear drips down my current eye, matching that in the memory of my naked, chubby, and childish form. I still overeat, but the weight doesn't pile on. I'm not sure why, but it's a good thing. However, this girl isn't as fortunate.

I wipe my eyes, walking out from behind the girl and sitting on a stump in front of her. She looks up from her drink, setting it to the side while she stares at me with confusion glinted, blue eyes. She rubs her hand against her face, causing the irritation to spread. Her lips quiver, and her black dress is a mess; it appears like she's spilled alcohol on herself, and dirt covers her clothes and knees.

It's silent. She hasn't spoken, and I'm trying to formulate what to say. I'd like to know what's wrong. She isn't my freedom, but she may be able to lead me to it. A taste of freedom will be grand.

She picks back up her bottle, tipping it up in her lips before letting it rest in her hands. Her eyes stare mine dead on, so I tilt my head upright to her face. "So, are you under the goddess of light? Are you Gresiva's follower? Those eyes are a dead giveaway," she sorrowfully says, taking another swig from the amber bottle. "Are you here to lecture me about what I'm doing? It's wrong for a seventeen-year-old to be drinking in the forest at the dead of night, or something like that?"

I nod my head. "No. No. I've done the same thing as a child, though I was younger," I reply quietly, putting my hands on my knees. "And I'm no follower of the goddess of light. These eyes are of her brother, Vaesio, the god of murder." I'm too open when I meet people like me. I shouldn't have said that.

I expected a reaction, but she isn't giving one. Wait, she's picking up her bottle. She holds it out, motioning for me to grab it. I take it as she wishes, having a small sip to be courteous. It makes my insides burn, and I gasp while smiling, handing the bottle back to her. She chuckles, taking another swill before setting it firmly in the dirt beside her, and I can hear the grains digging into the glass.

"A killer can't handle his alcohol? That's a surprise." She laughs, and I'm wondering what screw is loose with her. I just told her I follow Vaesio. Why is that the reaction I received? I don't understand this one.

"No, I can't. I haven't been able to since I was young. It's just something I try to stick away from," I explain, rubbing the back of my head. "Why does that surprise you? Shouldn't the fact I'm a killer make you run?"

She suddenly puts her hand on my chin, making me look into her piercing eyes. "Why the unwor should I run? You don't have a menacing vibe," she responds seriously, moving back from me and running her fingers through her long hair. "Besides, my brother worships Vaesio. He's an assassin under the Sapfang guild, and he's a just, strong man with a few kids he's raising well. You know, if that's evil, I don't wish to be good."

"Interesting," I mutter, curious of her ideals. Whenever I hear of a family member going into what's seen as an evil occupation, the family shuns that member and acts like they are no family, never caring for how they feel in the matter. It's nice to know she is proud of her brother, regardless of the darkness blinding society of the truth of the job.

"So, why are you a murderer?" She blatantly questions, her head gravitating toward me and her hands in her lap.

"Uh, well," I stutter, clenching my teeth while looking toward the soil.

My mind flashes to the past, and I look down in the memory. My body has to be that of my sixteen-year-old self, as I've lost some weight around this time. I'm wearing a pine short sleeve and cerulean pants, but I'm all roughed up.

On my hands and clothes, dirt has attached, and blood dribbles down my lips. One of my eyes stings and swells, and my head is wrapped in fluffy anger. Numbing rage.

The fire of my head spreads throughout my body, and my pulse accelerates. With my breaths almost hyperventilations, I tighten my fists, eyeballing a thick, club-like stick on the forest ground. I pick it up, ready to smash some heads in. And I did.

When I come back to reality, my chest throbs, and I'm breathing so fast that my tongue dries. My eyes vehemently stare at the ground, and my body tips toward it, my rear slipping from the stump. Fearful violet surrounds me, permeating my chest that I grasp onto.

Suddenly, the purple clears, and this teen's hand rests on my shoulder. My cheeks are tickled by the water that runs down them, so I swiftly wipe it. My insides melt into a pool of cool, and some kind of beast takes over my throat, forcing out emotional words.

"Let go, let go, let go! Don't touch me!" I shout, and she immediately withdrawals her hand, her eyes gaping at me. I didn't mean to scare her. I just... don't want to be touched. "Sorry."

She sighs, nodding her head. "Don't apologize. It's my fault. I should've assumed not all kill in a way like my brother. You're an actual murderer, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am. It's not a career. I kill to kill, and killing is my life."

"There's no way someone like you kills just to kill. What's your reason?" She questions, and I angrily look up, grinding my teeth.

"You really want to know?" I growl, my brain boiling. "I hate teenagers! I hate them! You people are bastards who feed off each other's weakness and beat them to the ground! You people beat me to the ground and stole whatever chance of a sane life I had!"

My nose is bleeding. I know, as it stings and feels cold, and I've seen myself in the water's reflection after this feeling in the past. I dab my finger against my nostril, holding it in front of my face to see crimson. This girl punched me in the face. When did that happen?

My fingers dig into the leaves of the ground, and my body lies against the earth where I landed after hit off the stump. My legs are still on the tree's remainder, and my confused head seems like fluffy clouds and sparkling waters.

My eyes shift to the teenager, and her aura suggests a dragon's wrath roams free within her. I screwed up.

"Do you think I like my fellow people? Don't you dare compare me to those who feed off each other! I hate society! Why the unwor do you think I came here today? My fucking boyfriend cheated on me with another girl, and I thought he accepted all my flaws! No, he exploited me and made me a target for assholes! And I thought you were cool, but you are another jerk!" She yells with all her might, panting heavily. I really screwed up. This is something Ten would say, but fuck my life.

Slowly, I rise from the ground, taking a seat back on the stump. I put my hands together, placing them on my lap. My head bows in shame, and I nod back and forth.

"Sorry. Sorry, sorry, sorry. I know you're not my freedom. I shouldn't have related you," I softly utter, unable to look her in the eyes until she moves my head up with her hand, a smile on her miserable face. Did I screw up? I think I merely messed up.

"You're cute when frantic, you know that?" Is that some attempt of flattery? Should I blush at that? Is this teenager trying to show infatuation to an adult? I don't like romance. If I did, I don't think I'd go for this one. However horrible it may be considering my past, I'm only ever able to picture myself with someone really thin. This teen isn't a pig like that earlier woman since she's not gluttonous for happiness, but... I don't like weight. "Stop staring like that. It's just a compliment."

I'm staring? Hmm. I suppose I am. My eyes dig into the ground after she points out the fact. "Sorry."

"Hey, it's fine. Anyway, what's this freedom you speak of? Sounds nice."

"Corrupt teenagers. I want to kill. It's relieving," I blurt. I'm too open with those like me. I screwed up again. But a taste of freedom will be grand.

She's not caring. She's exactly the same. What is wrong with this girl?

After a massive gulp of her drink, she gasps and passes it off to me. I don't want any. Still, I remain polite and have another mouth-full. My organs feel like the depths of the underworld. It burns.

"What's your name? I'm Eschele."

I know that name style. She's a Scale: someone with dragon in their bloodline. But it's not enough to make one a dragonkin, though deformed members of any color Scale clan appear from time to time.

"You're of the Slatescale clan, are you not?" In response, she taps near her eye while it flashes to Vaesio's yellow, and gray scales appear on her cheeks quickly before it all goes away. Damn Scale. They can control the magic flow to their features, and I'm stuck with these damnable eyes. "It's not only your brother who worships Vaesio."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm a Slatescale. And I don't kill, so I didn't bring it up. I may follow Vaesio, but that means little. He won't give me any damn perks since I don't murder," Eschele complains, spitting on the ground beside her. That's not very... lady-like.

"Is the Slatescale status why you were cheated on? Is news of it spreading?"

A tear starts to fall from her eye out of nowhere, and she nods in agreement.

"Yes. As a good girlfriend, I told him everything about me. I don't think secrets should be held in a relationship. But he couldn't accept who I am! Yes, Scales are deformities. I'm not going to deny the fact I shouldn't have been born, but I need someone in this world. I'll just go to another Scale clan and marry one of those men." Eschele turns silent, staring at me for some kind of response. This guy seems like he could be my freedom. He is a great candidate. "What is your name?"

Right, I never told her. "Zero-One," I say seriously, and Eschele has a glimmer in her eye that shows her belief in my name. I wouldn't lie, but many think my name is false. True, it's not my birth name, but Zero-One is my name.

"Well, Zero-One," she mutters, clenching her teeth. "I don't know what to do! I'm going to have my entire family here shunned when news spreads! He isn't saying it now, but he will! Trust me, he will! And I don't wish for this burden to sit on the Slatescale clan because of me!"

I reach forward, holding her hands in mine. In the past, such a simple gesture would've made me feel better, though no one felt sympathy. I can't allow this teenager to inhabit the same emptiness I had as a child. My fingers adjust to her smooth hands, and I hold them on my knees while her face lights up.

"Eschele, your clan will be fine. I'll assure it. So, let's go. I'm meeting this man of yours who left you."

Thanks for reading chapter 2 part 1! I hope you enjoyed enough to leave a vote or comment.

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