A Really Interesting Title, Something About Deadpool ~

1: In the Beginning

So stories usually start at the beginning right? But where is the beginning? What constitutes a beginning?

The start dipshit. He says.

'He' will be important later, just keep reading because I was actually going really deep.

That's what she said.

Well you can just shut up right now, can you?

Okay, the beginning, where the beginning is, no one really knows, it could've started yesterday, at your ex's birthday party last year, when your grandma was born or when one universe collided with another into a formation of molten lava and flying rock.

But my point is, who the fuck knows?

But for now, we'll start at my beginning. My name is Anna Avery Albeit. My biological mother is called Avery. I had a twin once, her name was Agata. But she'll come back into the plot later on. So my Mum's name is Avery, I was probably like what, four? anyway, basically, my mother was walking downtown with my twin and I when these really suss guys jumped out of a van and kidnapped Agata and dragged my Mum away and I was freaking so much about my twin that I completely lost my mother. She just... Disappeared.

So I start fighting off all these gang member guys but PLOT CONVENIENCE I'm really strong and then I busted their asses and saved my sister and my Mum.

Just kidding, it was nothing like that.

My family were walking down the street; Mum, Agata and I. I didn't have a father, who needs a Dad anyway? There was a drive by shooting, stupid gang kids doing stupid stuff for the fucking sake of it.

My sister and my Mum died, I was four. The memory of their crimson blood hot and sticky on my fingers never left my mind. I remember pressing the side of my head to her bloody chest and the side of my face being covered in blood. I remember screaming their names while tears spilled, hoping they'd wake up from the prank and we'd laugh and go home and have burritos. But I remember them staying there; still. Their bodies coloured in the same red. Red. Red. It was everywhere.

Hold up, this wasn't supposed to be some tear-jerker backstory where I tear up while telling the author what to write. But yes, Blood, I got used to it. When girls tripped and cried on the playground, crying over their bloody knee I'd peer with slight interest. And by the time I was ten, there was nothing I was more used to than the Crimson colour of blood. Horror movie gore didn't affect me, it interested me. But after admitting these findings to someone who I thought I was my closest friend, I was cast out. It was hard enough being the reject in the adoptive family but now I had no friends as school either.

So I made me own little friends, in my own head, they speak to me a lot, like him up above.

So now that's out of the way, lemme start at the beginning...