DARK NIGHTS AND DIRTY STREETS. The thoughts came out clumsily, messy and unjust for the starry night, ridden with constellations and the atmosphere perfect for stealing.  

  She was a gang leader, cunning, precise and a stealer of many things that she never gave back.

 All shades of grey, evil and good, light and dark, villain and hero, Romhild Haenraets was something and nothing.

  She was a story herself, the type of story that would lure the laziest goon crave to hold the book in their hands, with the scars of the past, the yellowing pages and a yearning for the ending as well as her bare soul, the soul no would take, for it was all shades of grey just like the woman herself and no one could intercept it. 

  No one knew why, how and when Romhild did anything. 

  She was a secret, the kind that wasn't worth keeping, the kind that didn't make you spark with interest, but the kind that you would keep out of sheer loyalty and a promise.

  Street rats are known for keeping their honor, and she was the only one who didn't.  

  And how much hurt the fugitive felt when she tore apart the only thing he gave to the public, his fragile and lost soul, the gods above will only know. 

  Robin Hood met its own Maid Marian, and the story unfolds out of this storyteller's tongue, for the storyteller was obliged to tell these sadistic tales.

  As your fellow narrator and character of this nightmare, fairytale, whatever you'd like to call it,
  Lucille Farris.