I have a bounty on my head.
And nowhere to run.

My name is Aegis.
I am a creature of the dark.
Or, a hybrid of the dark.
In my mother's finally stages, she was bitten by a pure-breed vampire Lord.
Because of this, she gave birth to an abomination.
She gave birth to me: A half-breed vampire.
I was taken in by this vampire lord, whom I learned to call father.

He took me under his wings as I began to learn magic.
It was natural to me.
Especially the powers of darkness, swarming me in a warm embrace.
I didn't ask for this power, but it is a part of me. I cannot deny myself.
That scent would waft into the air.
Oh, what sweet essence.

Then I went on an adventure and I learned the truth.
I was bred for this.
Bred for disruption, chaos, the lost balance in the world.
My mother was targeted, by no other than him.
I dare never to utter his name ever again.
He brought me into this world, so I will take him down with me.
Oh you, who was a familiar.
You are now my enemy.
Prepare for your downfall.

Imagine anything.
Imagine.
But why?
How do we imagine?
It's because we are here, right?
We are beings, aren't we?
Human Beings.

Beings can dream.
They can imagine.
But why?
It's because of Change.

Our surroundings change.
Our places change.
Everything begins to shift.
We beings become confused.
We are unaware of the path anymore.
The path's become blurry.

Beings must adapt to the flow of change.
That's the only way.
The only way to find the path again.
But there are obstacles.

Once we have the courage to step forward,
Arms grab at our feet.
If we cannot find out strength,
The arms will drag us down.
When reaching our resolution,
Only then can we take our next step forward.

We eventually find the courage to step again.
Then, we begin our journey over.
We may walk down the paved and constructed path,
But the uneven road may be our new direction.
Filled with uncertainty and danger.

The pavement is just a start.
Taking another step, bricks arise from below and catch our balance.
Paving a new road each step we take.

The mist of confusion and uncertainty cloud our sight.
Yet, we continue to pave down the new road.
Our own path.
One we can call our own.
Other people help lead us to the path.
But now, we must finish the path on our own.
To our new worlds.

Let me tell you a story.
A story of sadness and happiness.
A story of defeats and triumphs.
A story of dreams and reality.
A story that has no ending.
Let me tell you a story about me.

I was born the middle child of a middle-class family.
We were richer than most, but I always thought otherwise.
As I grew, I realized mom was always there.

But the youngest always cling to her.
And the oldest caused trouble for her.
So I stood quietly in the corner.
I have to take care of myself, I thought. I cannot bother mom.
I would look towards the empty chair that my dad had sat in.
He just left for another country.
No time for kisses or goodbyes.
Just got up and left.

I became used to keeping myself company.
Sure, I had friends.
But I was an introvert.
 I would get extremely nervous just answering the phone. 
And too shy to invite them over.

Junior High rolled around and I began to have problems.
The once-obvious displays of affection between my parents had collapsed.
Now the sounds of bicker and despair loomed over the house.
My will always shattered at the first uttered word of discord.
The tears are comforting to me, but I cannot control them.

I was not vocal at the time.
I was not a vocal person at all.
Because of me being me, I got a stalker.
There were days when I dreading coming to school.
It was not in fear of my life: it was the fear of seeing my stalker again.

He loved me: I treated him as though I had scorned his parents.
He claimed to love me: I insulted and degraded him.
He claimed to love me: I hated him.

High school was not far behind.
But that's when the London Bridge fell down.
My London Bridge fell down.
Grades fell, Parents separated, Going to therapy.
And in the midst of everything, I fell into a trap.
Crafted by an abusive boyfriend.

I was slandered.
I was scared.
I was hurt.
I was abused.
I was controlled.
I was insulted.

I was pushed into a drinking fountain.
There was no blood, but I still remember where it hit.
I was insulted repetitively: rivers erupted and my face was drenched.
I was taken advantage of: I was now terrified for my life. I gave into his commands out of fear.
I was a toy: he found someone else while we were dating, leaving me all alone. 
I hate being alone.
I was controlled: he made me dependent on him. And I was afraid to refuse when he came crawling back to me.

It was not until Junior year.
Junior year started it all.
I had some courage. I had some guts.
The break-up happened.
I became happier and confident during the aftermath.
But the past would not leave me alone.
I tried to date again, but my chest would clench just thinking about it.
My nerves go on overdrive and my senses are heightened.
I cannot relax around men.
At least, not men I want to date.
Even the thought provoked panic.
It baffled me so.

Senior year was the best by far.
There was resolution in my eyes.
My hands trembled, but my heart did not.
The die was cast.
No fear held me back.
Only one thing bothered me.

Would I survive?
Or would I die?

I have not fully bloomed.
I do not know what a true, bloomed flower looks like.

When I was born, I was protected in a brown encasing.
Appointed to the people I called parents, in a place I called home.
They were my guardians and my lovers.
Even when I began to began to sprout and grow a green stem, they still surrounded me with love.
That is, until my first bud began to grow.

When I was thinking of budding, the protection around my foundation broke.
The once-brown casing had cracked and broken as my two guardians.
I try to straighten myself and grab at the brown outline.
But it is hollow and breaking.

My roots begin to grow beneath me and I cling onto what is left of my lovers.
My roots reaches soil and even though I feel broken, I feel amazing. My bud grew, despite my uncertainty since my protection abandoned me.

Just when I had grown more buds and about to bloom my first flower, my roots hit some bad soil.
The soil was dry and cracked: my roots grow no longer.
The rain had eased and my soil was lackluster.
I begged for the rain to come back, I prayed for it to heal my dying and drying roots.
And as I waited, I began to wilt.

Weeks went by and I continued to wilt.
My once pink colour had been tainted brown.
My leaves had turned a bark brown, scrunched into a violent, compressed form.
Even my powerful stem had succumbed to weariness and could no longer stand tall.
There was nothing else I could do but wait.
Wait for the rain to come.

And then, I saw a sight that I couldn't recognize.
I was shaded from the sun's rays by a grey apparition.
I felt a trickle slide across my form and felt another in my soil.
Oh, wondrous day!
The rain had come at last!
I savored every moment of that rain, that glorious, wonderful thing!
I felt revived and anew.
Oh, beautiful day!

Using every bit of the renewed soil and water, my bud was reawakened.
Slowly, I pressed a petal back little by little.
I took my time to do it right.
My first flower, I had to do it right.

Underneath, I had kept the struggle inside.
But now, it was time I show how happy I really am, inside and out.

That was when I bloomed for the first time.
And it was worth the pain.

I look different inside everyone.
I am the being who rests on your shoulder when you are brought up to dismay.
When you have no where else to go, do not worry.
I will always be with you.

Most people view me as the perfect, innocent person.
With blonde hair stricken with the light of the sun.
A white, flowing dress as clear as the clouds.
Some imagine me with wings that allow me to reach up to the skies.
What do people really think of me, I wonder?
My body is petite and small, without the presence of wrinkles.
I open my eyes, clear as day's sky.
Light blue orbs puts the finishing piece on my face.

My feet brush against the blades of grass.
I walk down the grassy hill, not noticing the eyes from afar.
After a while, my bare feet scrape against the hard surface of cement.
Groups of people do not stop even for a second and a loud, deafening sound slinks into my ears.
Without thinking, all the people walking past me step on my toes, crushing them.
To get away from the noise and pain, I make a turn into an alley.

All the sudden, I realize that I am no longer in the open fields.
Now, I am in the enclosed space of shadows.
In my burst of confusion, I am grabbed from behind.
My lip collides with the brick wall, causing it to split open.
The blood trickles down the outline of my face, staining the once-pale skin into a red blush.
I let out a gasp when pain becomes a factor.

A weapon of sin rests enclosed in me.
My wound seeps into the front of my dress.
Everything is turning flush red and my eyes are fogged by tears.
Pain and its foreign concept become real.
The object in my body is ****** out and I feel my essence fading.
My life is fading; yet the person does not stop.
Using the same smeared blade, a sliver gleam rips the bottom of my dress.
My voice is strained and struggling to make any sound.
I am silent: where has my voice gone?

My hand manages to cling on the perpetrator's arm, but he does not stop.
I feel another wave of pain in my lower half.
My voice comes back in a single scream
He does not stop.
There's so much blood, I am beginning to feel light-headed.

Please, somebody, save me!

Hours go by and I feel my conscious fading.
He finally stops and gets up.
He does nothing to help and leaves me in the alleyway.
My disheveled form is hidden by the shadows that lay deep in the darkness.
I cannot move my body from the pool of blood leaking from my wounds.
Am I dying?
I close my eyes, too tired to keep them open any longer.

The man walks down the street and heads home for the day.
He greets a woman in his house, kissing her and rubbing the apparent bulge from her stomach.
He shuffles under the covers as he attempts to sleep.
He feels another weight on the bed and looks over.
He might have been expecting his wife.
What he got was me.
My wings were tainted with my own blood, maintaining a dark red color.
The eyes that had once been as clear as the sky are now clouded with yellow thunder.
My face adorns a grin wide enough to make my cheeks fall off of my face.
The bloodied knife was raised in my hand.

The grin still on my face, I plunged the object.
The blood splattered on my soiled dress.
A laugh erupted from the pit of my stomach.

One should know better than to **** the very angel of Death.

I am Darkness.

Some people do not understand me.
Some people worship me.
No matter what they say, the truth will always be the same.
I am Darkness, and no one can change that.

Little kids fear me.
Something about me is foreign to them.
Their instincts act first and they fear me.
That does not change me, though.
I am Darkness, after all.

Then the kids grow up.
To some, I am no longer feared.
To others, I continue to be their fear.
This does not phase me.
I will always remain in the corner of your eye.
I am Darkness.

I know all of your secrets.
I know all of your hardships, your joys and your triumphs.
I take the form of a shadow.
I mimick your every move, but I cannot speak for myself.
I am Darkness, and I will always be by your side.

On the fourth day, God said "Let there be light."
I remained for those three days.
I did not disappear, though.
I became the shadow during the day.
I am Darkness.

Your monitor begins to beep.
Your strength is slowly fading.
Your eyes battle to see that one glimmer of light.
Do not fear being alone, though.
Do you remember what I said?
I am Darkness.
No matter where you go or how far you go...

You will always come back to me.