The name’s Persephone Rodriguez; I’m 14 years old and a criminal or fugitive (whichever it is). I’m a mutant, that’s the basic line of who I am. I spent four years on the run making my way as I go; mostly just doing jobs as a hit man ( or girl, makes no difference to me). I have unusual purple eyes and strange hair. My roots are black but after an inch or so, they turn white for some reason. It doesn’t really matter to me as long as no one from my past recognizes me. I mean having white hair does make me stand out a little, but at least no one remembers me. I travel from place to place, town to town, and city to city; earning money illegally. It wasn’t always like this; I did have a happy life once.
Four years earlier…
I looked up at the apple shaped clock in the kitchen that read 7:43; it was already dark out and Grandpa still wasn’t home. I turned of the TV and walked over to the window next to the front door. Nope, still no headlights in the driveway. I headed back into the kitchen and grabbed the Garfield shaped telephone, and dialed my Grandpa’s office. After a few rings or so, the receptionist finally answered the phone.

“Hello, Mesa Home Systems. How may I help you?” asked a squeaky voice on the other line.

“Uh yes, Curtis Rodriguez please,” I replied very politely even though it killed me to.

“One moment please,” the squeaky receptionist asked. There was a small, low tuned humming noise at first; then came the ringing.

“Hello?” asked a dull, crackled, old voice.

“Grandpa! Where are you?!” I shouted into the phone with an angry voice.

“Well considering you called me at work, I’d say I’m at work,” Grandpa replied, his voice ripe of sarcasm. I always hated it when he did that; he always made me feel like a fool.

“Don’t make me feel stupid!” I shouted some more.

“I just got off the phone with your teacher so don’t start with me young lady,” he threatened. This is bad; he talked to Ms.Armstrong, and now I get a long torturing lecture and extra chores. I hate those lectures more; they’re always so long.

“Fine then I’ll go to bed!”

“Fine, then.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“Okay”

“Seriously, I’m hanging up now!”

“You do that.”

“ARGH!”

I slammed the phone down with all my might: why did Grandpa have to be so sarcastic?! He did the same thing to my dad and now he does it to me. I decided to go out for a walk to calm my self down a bit; I grabbed my dark blue jacket on my way out the door. I locked the door, walked down the steps, and onto the sidewalk towards the park. I thought I should take a detour, so that the kids at the park wouldn’t bother me. So instead of going straight across the street, which led to the park, I went right. After a few minutes passed by, I walked in the middle of the side walk that way I could close my eyes as I walked. Then before I knew it I bumped into a huge soft thing; right in the middle of the sidewalk.

“Ugh! Watch where you’re going!” I shouted at whoever I bumped into. I looked up while I rubbed my sore butt, and saw a tall high school boy that had baggy shorts.

“Well, well, well,” the baggy shorts guy teased. All his friends turned and looked at me; they all looked like a bunch of wanna be rappers. This is really not what I need right now; I better just walk away.

“Look guys, I’m not in the mood so buzz off!” I snapped. I turned around to start walking, but big guy stepped in front of me.

“You’re not going anywhere ‘til you give us somethin’,” the baggy shorts guy threatened. All his friends started to form a circle around me; blocking me at every angle.

“I got nothin’ to give so let me go or you’ll be sorry!” I threatened back; raising my fist at him all tough like. I know I’m all talk, but it’s saved me butt countless of times.

“Oh, look at Miss Tough-Girl! She raised her fist at me, she’s so scary!” the baggy shorts guy mocked. I suddenly felt a hand grab onto the back of my shirt and lift me off of the ground. I would’ve yelled, but the collar of my shirt was choking me. I looked down a little and saw my feet dangling about three feet off the ground. I gasped for air as the guy let go of me, and I felt myself falling all of a sudden. But I only had a little time to feel that because I felt a great force hit my back sending me forward. It felt like a rhinoceros just ran into me and sent me flying through the air; I probably would of if it weren’t for the guy standing in front of me. My head went back like a whip when the big guy hit me and sent me flyin’; I was able to lean my head forward just to see where I was headed. Then WHAM! The baggy shorts guy threw up his right fist and hit me square on the left cheek; sending me head first towards the sidewalk in front of the big guy.

“UNH!” I shrieked in pain.

He punched me; the damn baggy shorts guy punched me! I heard a faint snap in my neck as me head was forcefully turned to my right. I landed hard onto the sidewalk as all the pinheads around me started to cheer. I slowly pulled myself up on my elbows; I stared at the gravel that was cemented into the sidewalk.

“UGH!” I yelped, I felt my jaw throb. It hurt so bad cause no one ever did this before. No one even thought about beating me up like this; then again I never went this way when it was dark. I felt something drool out of my mouth; it tasted coppery and didn’t feel like saliva. But I knew it was blood.

“HA HA HA! I got her good!” cheered the baggy shorts guy as I slowly lifted me self up off the ground. I felt this anger inside of me; its nothing like what I felt before. It wasn’t anger, it was more than anger; it was rage. It felt like the rage took over my body; before I knew it, I turned around and glared at all of them. All of those jerks who will feel my wrath; they will beg for mercy and beg me to end their lives! The baggy shorts guy looked at me and I could tell he shuddered at the evil intent in my eyes. I spread legs apart so that I was in a squatting position; I forced me right arm down so it that my nails touched the ground. The jerks looked at me with fear and disbelief; the baggy shorts guy was shivering already. I felt energy build up inside my fight palm that was down; it felt like all my rage was going towards the palm of my hand. But for some reason my arm couldn’t handle it; I grabbed my right arm with my left hand to steady it. I never took my eyes off of my targets; I had no idea what was building in my hand. I bent down a little so that the energy hit the sidewalk, and that sent pieces of the sidewalk flying everywhere. The jerks mouths dropped at the power I was showing of at them. I stared right into the baggy shorts guy’s eyes; I had an evil grin across my face. Then I ran with my hand full of energy dragging behind me sending chunks of cement everywhere.

I ran towards my first target the baggy shorts guy; before he knew it I was fight in front of him and had my built up energy right in my hand. Even though it hurt, I forced my hand forward and hit him right in the chest with all my might. There was sparks and lightning all around my hand that hit my first target, but I didn’t care. I was too angry to care; all I wanted to do was make him pay. I felt soft liquid splatter onto my hand and face as my palm went further into his chest. I really didn’t care that his blood was all over me, so I pushed even further into his chest. I kept on pushing and pushing; feeling my hand pass by soft, squishy objects and something that beated a rhythem that I could dance to in his chest. Until finally, me hand came out of his back and the all the energy in my hand, along with all the lightning and sparks flying everywhere, was behind his head. I smirked as I looked into his eyes full of terror and pain; I used all my strength and pulled my arm out of his chest, leaving a big whole through it. I turned to face the other pinheads; I was a pleased to see that they had not run yet. I felt my rage against the big guy and broke into a run straight towards him. Then I did the same thing to those guys, what I did to the baggy shorts guy; then everything was a blur as I fulfilled my endless rage…
I looked around to see eight dead, bloody bodies, with holes in their chests, all around me. I couldn’t believe what I did. I saw what I was doing, but I was too angry to stop myself. I looked at the palms of my hands that were covered with crimson blood; I knew it was on my face as well, from the angle of where I hit all those guys. I studied the scars on my hand that had all that unknown energy in it earlier. The scars looked familiar; they looked almost like the scar I got when I touched a light bulb.
I started to feel something else; it was in my gut that I felt this way. I backed up a little and stepped on a motionless hand; I looked at it and found the body that the hand was still attached to. I looked at the dead body and realized it was the baggy shorts guy; I started to hyperventilate from the look that he left on his face when I took his life. His big blue eyes were fear stricken and I swear I could see the last image of what he saw before he left this world. I felt the strange feeling inside me starting to build; I felt like screaming at the top of my lungs. I felt like I was going to be punished by God, but instead I feel the fear of the dark that’s growing inside of me.
I turned around and ran. I ran as fast as my legs would let me. I stopped and skidded a little in front of my big house. There was no big truck in the drive way; Grandpa wasn’t home yet. I ran up to the door, pulled my keys out of my pocket, unlocked the door, and ran inside. I slammed the door behind me and leaned my back on it. I slumped down and sat there a few minutes. I can’t believe it! I killed them; I killed them all! I’m a…murderer! I gasped at that the thought of what would happen to me: would I be taken away from Grandpa? Would they lock me up forever? Or give me a death sentence?
I jolted up and ran to my bedroom. I can’t let Grandpa go through a life of regret all because of me! I grabbed my backpack and emptied it out. I stuffed it with shirts, jeans, and shoes. I had to get away from here; I’m a danger to everyone around here! I ran into the bathroom to grab my essentials. I stopped right in front of the mirror; I stared at my blood stained face. I can’t go out like this; it will attract attention. I turned on the water faucet, grabbed a washcloth, and started to scrub my face and my hands raw. I ran back into my room, put my essentials in the backpack, and opened the closet. I quickly changed my clothes.
I zipped up my backpack, and slipped my feet into a pair of flip-flops. I started for the door, but remembered I needed money. I went over to my bed, got on my knees, and looked under it. I saw the small tin box that held the money I made from chores. I opened it, and pulled out the 2,000 dollars I saved. I stuffed it in my back pocket. Then it hit me; they’ll be able to ID me because of my long hair. I looked around the desk and found a hair tie and some scissors. I worked all of my hair into a tight ponytail and tied it good. I looked at the scissors and thought it wouldn’t work on my tight, thick, black hair. I ran out of the room and into the kitchen; I stopped in front of the kitchen knives; I took off my backpack so no hair would get on it. I grabbed the biggest knife with my right hand, and I gripped my hair with my left. I slid the knife under my hair, and thrusted my hand up. I felt the knife slice my hair as it took off all that extra weight. I put the knife back into its rightful place; I looked at the limp chunk of hair that used to be connected to my head. It was still held together by the hair tie, but it was just dead weight now.
I picked up my backpack and threw it on as I ran for the door. I peered through the window to make sure the coast was clear; Grandpa is really lucky he decided to stay at work this late. I opened the door once more, locked it one last time, and ran across the lawn to the left. Grandpa always comes from the right when he pulls up, so if I go left he won’t see me. I was a few houses down when I looked back to see a black Nissan Titan pull up into my driveway. I whimpered a bit from regretting what I’m doing, but I shook my head and continued running towards my destination.